Dylan screamed.
Mick cringed then looked down at the mask and the few strands of hair wrapped around the rubber strap. “Sorry.” He shrugged and handed it back.
“Asshole.” Dylan shook her head. “You’ve exposed us.”
“To what? To me? The flu? Darling, this,” he kissed her, “is exposed. Now what’s up?”
“Can you watch Tigger?”
“Watch Tigger? Now?” Mick asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m working.”
“I know, but I need you to watch him. Just for a couple hours. Let him hang here. It’s safe.”
“His home is safe,” Mick told her. “Why can’t Chris and Dustin watch him?” Mick’s eyes widened. “Son of a bitch. Dylan, you aren’t letting those boys run around, are you?”
“No.” Dylan shook her head then rambled on, “They can’t watch him. Chris is in his room. Dylan is in his. I’m trying to keep them separated. You know, if Chris has it he won’t give it to Dustin. If Dustin has it he won’t give it to Chris. I want both of them away from Tigger, because Tigger is so small, you know he’s susceptible to—”
“Stop.” Mick held up his hand. Then after staring at Dylan for a moment, ran his hand over the bridge of his nose. “Quit this. Now.” He held up his hand stopping her again. “Where are you going that you need him watched?”
“Work.”
“Work?” Mick asked. “The video store?”
“Yes. My father thinks me working will help take my mind off of things.”
“Please tell me your father doesn’t have the store open.”
“Okay. My father doesn’t have the store open.” Dylan paused. “But he does.”
“Aw!” Mick whined. “Why does he have to go and put me in this position? Son of a bitch.” Mick went back to his desk and started rummaging. “Where’s that order? I’ll show him myself. The Army rolls in here, sees he’s violating the ordinance, they’ll arrest him… found it.” Mick held up the paper then slammed the drawer. “Take Tigger home. I’ll be there by dinner.” After running his hand over the top of Tigger’s head, Mick walked to the door.
“Wait.” Sounding concerned, Dylan stopped him. “Are you shutting down my Dad’s store?”
Mick hesitated in answering. He felt uncomfortable telling her, but it wasn’t his choice. “Dylan. Just… just understand, okay? It’s not personal. It’s my job.”
“Are you shutting down his store, Mick?”
Slowly, regretfully, Mick nodded.
“Thank you.” Dylan smiled. “Whew. I thought I had to work. Let’s go, Tigger.” She grabbed his hand. “Hold your shirt over your face and we’ll run real fast all the way home.” She walked with him from the office. “See ya later, Mick.”
Mick stood dumbfounded for a second as he watched Dylan sweep up Tigger and dash from the station faster than he had ever seen her move. Dylan wasn’t upset. Mick could only hope Tom would be as understanding in light of all that was going on.
Tom leaned on the other side of the counter and read the order that Mick gave him. He raised his fatherly eyes above his half glasses and tapped his hand on the paper.
“So, you understand that?” Mick asked.
“Yep.” Tom nodded then inhaled. The breath was heavy and deep; it carried loud as Tom stood upright. “Mick, you know me as a God-fearing Christian man, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Mick said.
“Don’t like to hurt anyone, don’t like to break the law…”
“Not you.” Confidence and calm permeated Mick’s voice.
“And never do I disrespect those in authority. Or use vile language. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“So forgive me right now, Mick. But fuck you, I am not closing my store.” Tom slid the order to Mick.
At that moment, Mick really wanted to respond. But he was shocked, totally shocked. His lips parted as he stared at Tom.
“So you just take that order,” Tom said, “fold it back up, stick it in your pocket, and go on.”
Mick cleared his throat as he recovered. “Mr. Roberts, I don’t think you quite understand.”
“No, Mick, you don’t understand. What aren’t you getting? I am not closing my store.”
“There are no if, ands or buts about it. You have to close the store,” Mick said more firmly.
“No, I don’t. And I won’t.”
“Goddamn it, why are you—”
“Language.”
Mick grumbled. His voice dropped to a growling whisper as he leaned over toward Tom. “Don’t force my hand. Don’t you do that to me. Now, listen up…”
“Michael Owens. Stop right there.” Tom’s voice deepened and he spoke slowly with authority. “Don’t you dare talk down to me. Hear that?”
“Mr. Roberts, I am not talking down to you. You are forgetting who I am. I have never before thrown my status at you.”
“Don’t start now!” Tom said strongly as he walked around the counter. “This is my store, Mick. My store!”
“And this…” Mick held up the order, “is the law! Shut down the store!”
“No! I don’t give a rat’s ass about that law, or ordinance, whatever you wanna call it. I care about the people of this town!” Tom argued.
“And you think the people of this town need videos at this moment!”
“It’s not the videos, it’s the message.” Tom’s hand slammed loudly on the counter. “If I close my doors, shut out my lights and pull my blinds, I am sending the message that I’m scared. Well, I’m not scared, Mick. And I don’t want the people of this town to be scared! If they walk down the streets of Lodi and see a ghost town then they will not see hope. You have a flu bug raging. It’s closing down cities, states, countries. And despite what the sugar coated media tells us, it’s shutting down the human race.” Tom’s voice calmed down. “And if my people, in my town, can walk down the street and see one light, even if it is in a tiny, no name video store, they’ll be able to see that not everything normal in their lives is gone. Not yet.”
Frustrated, Mick closed his eyes as he groaned and wracked his brain for the right argument. He nodded once, then took a step toward Tom, speaking as calmly as he possibly could. “More than you realize, I understand what you’re saying. You and Marian… I love you guys. I don’t want to shut you down. I don’t. But if I don’t insist upon it, and Federal Emergency Management rolls through here, they’ll shut you down. They won’t be as nice. They’ll pull you out, arrest your ass, close your doors and board you up. I don’t want that. I don’t. Please, Tom… please.” Mick’s voice dropped. “Close the store… please.” Taking a moment to stare silently at Tom, trying to convey his desperation in a look, Mick quietly walked out.
It said a lot.
More than any reports from the media, more than new ordinances left and right from FEMA, or even the blue masks that people ran around in, the reality of the flu struck Mick in the moment after his confrontation with Tom.
Mick stood on the sidewalk for a long time, in thought, feeling really bad. He didn’t want to move. And if Mick felt guilty before, he felt even worse when he heard the ‘ding’ of Tom’s entrance bell. He turned around to see the ‘closed’ sign and Tom locking up. His voice cracked. “Tom.”
Tom said nothing. From under his arm he pulled out a piece of cardboard and placed it over the door’s glass. The ‘rip’ of packing tape sounded loudly as Tom secured the homemade sign on the door. He looked once at Mick, then, tape in hand, walked away.
Mick read it. Written in big black magic marker, the sign declared, ‘I did not give up hope.’ Mick turned his head and shut his eyes as another wave of remorse washed over him.