Goodbye Dolly

3

"Brett came sprinting past like he was training for one of those triathlons," she says, looking up from her seat behind the registration table, studying the man and wishing she'd brushed her hair and powdered her nose. Some women can cry their hearts out and still look good.

Not her.

She runs fingers from both sweaty hands under her blonde curls, hoping to give them more bounce. She must look a fright, all puffy and red-eyed. Everybody had gone home after the accident except her, or so she thought. Just a few more things to pack up if she can find the energy.

She still sat in the same position at the registration table, numb all over except for the tears running down her face. But then this man appeared out of nowhere, and she tried to straighten herself up.

"I was working the registration desk. Howie was off in the corner of the truck working his usual magic on the crowd. Right over there."

She points and imagines going back in time to that precise moment when Brett ran past her. If she had it to do over, she'd stop him somehow and change his future. Maybe give him one of those long, passionate kisses she remembers so well.

Her lower lip quivers.

"Don't forget to write that all down now," she says.

"Anyway, he tripped over his own feet he was in such a hurry, and he almost dropped the box."

"You don't say? What kind of box?"

" 'Bout this big," She raises her hands parallel like she's showing off the length of a Gila monster she might spot in the desert near her home. Or a good-sized fish from the Verde River.

" 'Oh damn,' Brett said, all panicked-like, and I was surprised because he is… or was… one of those Promise Keepers. You know, that men's Christian group with the seven promises? I never heard him utter a cuss word before."

She swipes a finger under her eye, sure that she has mascara smudges showing; after all, she's cried a bucketful. "Maybe he was trying to catch up with that woman who came by later and said some boxes were switched."

"Woman?"

"She said she had the wrong box."

"Do you remember her name?"

"Is that important?"

"You never know." He shrugs.

"Gretchen something. Let's see. Like a tree. Oak, maple, uh…" She snaps her fingers. "Gretchen Birch. That's it. Write that down now."

She pauses and watches him scribble in the notebook.

"Next thing I hear are tires squealing and people screaming." She looks out over the empty yard where the auction had been held. It seems so long ago. "Brett and I were engaged once, you know, when we were younger. I should have stuck with him. He was a good man."

"How much time would you say elapsed between the time you saw him and the time you heard the tires squeal?"

"Oh, I don't know. I guess maybe it was one or two minutes after he ran by that I found out it was Brett in the street." She sniffs. "Don't forget to write that down, too."

A loud sob escapes from her throat.