Red Rush by Julia Vanstory

Red Rush by Julia Vanstory

The hot metal stung Audrey’s hand as she slammed the door shut on her ‘01 Accord.

“You shouldn’t park under that old tree,” Janet shouted. She leaned across the shaky porch railing and gestured upward.

Audrey looked up at the oak tree that had shaded the family home for fifty years. The branches were covered in a vibrant green, but still dead leaves from the winter before from crowded the tin roof below it. Audrey shrugged and pulled a duffle bag out of the back seat.

A curl of smoke rose from the ashtray perched beside Janet’s hand. The pressed-out cigarette had only been half-smoked. Janet must have ditched it as soon as Audrey had turned the corner. Her mother hadn’t smoked in front of her since the day she’d come home from the third grade crying during Red Ribbon Week.

“It’s poison,” eight-year-old Audrey had shouted with tears streaming down her face. She waved a print-out of statistics the teachers had given the students to take home. Janet, sporting one shiny red cheek, barely looked away from the TV and waved her hand. She muttered “Doctors are always trying to tell you something’s bad for you.”

Janet had pretended to quit after that, but wisps of smoke and lingering smells betrayed her secret.

Audrey took in the sight of her mother’s flannel housecoat draped over a cheap polyester dress. She noted the heavier layer of foundation under her right eye. The only difference between this Janet and the mother of her childhood was the flaming red hair she had been sporting since it had started fading to gray three years ago.

Janet reached out and yanked on the hem of Audrey’s shirt. “Your blouse is wrinkled.”

Audrey batted her mother’s hand away. “It’s just from the drive.”

“Slip it off, and I’ll press it for you.”

“Mom, it’s fine.”

Janet just grunted and slumped back into the weather-worn rocking chair. Audrey forced a smile and nodded.

“Well,” Janet said. “You know where your room is.” Her hand had already slipped back into her pocket for her lighter.

Audrey stepped past her mother onto the porch. A bloated plank sagged beneath her feet. She suppressed the anger that swelled up. She had to remember that she hadn’t come here for her mother. As the screen door slammed behind her, Audrey looked over her shoulder in time to see her mother pull the half-smoked cigarette back out of the ashtray and lift it back to her mouth.

Audrey patted the side pocket of her bag where she had stuffed her own cigarettes. She pictured stepping back out there, sitting on the front steps, laying her head against her mother’s knee, sharing a complicit cigarette. She took a step back toward the door.

Her father breathed in a loud, jerking snore behind her. Audrey jumped. She turned and saw him passed out in his recliner. One of his big toes had wiggled through a hole in his thick white socks. She closed her eyes and raked a hand through her bangs.

& & &

“No, I’m not coming back, Colson” Audrey said as she hit the door of her childhood bedroom with her hip until the catch of the knob clicked into the door frame.

“Aud, I’m sorry,” her boyfriend of three years said as if he’d made a small mistake like lying or forgetting to do the dishes. As if he hadn’t grabbed her by the upper arms and slammed her against the wall. As if he hadn’t punched the wall inches from her head before rearing back, opening his hand and bringing it across her face. “I shouldn’t have called you a slut.”

She laughed at that. That was really the least of it. “You’re an idiot.”

“We’re so good together. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“It absolutely won’t happen again.” She pushed one sleeve of her sweater up and traced the scab that meandered from wrist to elbow as if she had tried to end her own life. She leaned against the wall and sunk to the floor. She tried to focus on the dead cockroach underneath her bed instead of the memory of Colson yanking an 11×14 picture frame off the wall and slamming it over her head, her arms raising just in time to protect the glass from her face.

“I love you, Audrey,” he whispered.

“No,” she yanked her bag off the creaky metal bed and dug the Glock out. She ran one finger down the ridges of the handle. “Don’t call me again.” She hung up and threw the phone onto the bed. She ejected the magazine and pulled back the slide. She dug deeper into the bag for the box of bullets. She loaded the magazine and pushed it back into the gun. She pulled on the slide and let it jerk close. She checked the safety and slid it on top of the bedside table.

She stayed on the ground and pulled her knees into her chest. She circled her arms around her knees and let the pain rush through her in full body sobs. When the tears stopped, she crawled into her bed and pulled the quilt over her head

& & &

When Audrey woke up, the window revealed the dark night punctuated by the overly bright halogen lights perched at the top of evenly-spaced light poles along the street and the soft glow streaming through the picture windows of the neighbors. She heard her mother singing Amazing Grace and knew her father had already left. She reached a hand above her head and ran it over the headboard, the skin of her palm catching where the white paint had peeled away from the iron. She breathed in the faint smell of cigarette smoke that had seeped into the bones of the house after three generations had puffed away under its roof.

Janet stopped singing and called her name through the old thin walls. Her footsteps grew louder as she hurried down the hall.

Audrey rolled her head toward the door and spotted the gun lying beside her. She jerked up and tugged the knob of the bedside table. She pushed the gun into the drawer. The friction of the old wooden piece of furniture caused a shriek as she forced it back in. The door swung wide open, and Janet hit the light switch just as Audrey straightened up.

“Dinner’s ready…” Janet trailed off as she looked from Audrey to the drawer and back again. “That better not be alcohol in there. You know there’s no drinking in this house.”

Audrey snorted, knowing good and well when her father showed back up the yeasty smell of beer would seep through every pore in his body.

Janet raised her eyebrows but chose to ignore Audrey’s reaction. “You settling in OK?”

“Yes, but my room could use some freshening up.” Audrey gestured toward the peeling wallpaper.

“I’ve got a lightbulb for that one’s out.” Janet yanked a thumb upward.

“Then the room will be good as new,” Audrey muttered.

Janet’s eyes flashed, and she popped her hands on her hips. “Now, I get you’re an adult. You’ve been off in New Orleans doing Lord knows what with that boy, but you’re in my house now. And as long as you’re here, you will respect your elders.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Audrey dropped her gaze.

“Now, come help me with dinner.” Janet turned to leave and paused. She reached a handout to pet the soft quilt folded on top of the old oak dresser. Janet turned back to her daughter and smiled. “I’ll never forget bringing you home wrapped up in this. Your skin was almost the same color pink.” Audrey thought her mother might cross the room to hug her, but instead Janet just nodded. “I’m glad your home.”

“It’s only for the weekend,” Audrey smiled.

Audrey followed Janet into the hallway. She smelled the crispy French onion topping of the green bean casserole baking and felt her shoulders relax. Being home did have some good moments after all.

“Audrey, honey, can you get the casserole out of the oven,” Janet called over her shoulder as she dropped a breaded chicken tender into the sizzling cast iron skillet.

The heat from the oven washed over Audrey’s face. She closed her eyes and took a deep whiff of the cheesy casserole. It wasn’t a fancy dish, but it had long been her mother’s go-to for special occasions. Not just holidays, either, but birthdays, homecomings, all As on her report card. Janet was never the mom who threw her arms wide for big hugs or shouted with laughter. Instead she did this, sweating out her love in the kitchen, no matter the temperature outside.

“Set the table,” she said raising her voice over the crackling sound of the grease. She waved her hand over her shoulder. “And fix ice in some glasses for the tea. There’s a pitcher in the fridge.”

Janet wrapped her apron over the heated handle and held it still while she flipped the chicken with a spatula. Audrey squeezed between her mother and the counter to pull the plastic cups out of the cupboard. A drop of grease from the skillet popped up and stung her neck.

“Mama, you don’t have to do all this for me.” Audrey poured the tea.

“Hush, who said I was doing this for you.” Janet turned and wiped her hands on the apron. “Go set the table.”

“Will Daddy be back?”

“We’re not waiting for him.” In other words, Janet had no idea when her husband would waltz back through that door.

Janet heaped food onto the dining table and took her place at the end closest to the China cabinet. Audrey sat to her right, like she always had. She traced the grooves in the wood she had created with her fork as a toddler.

“This is too much food for two people.”

“It’s all your favorites.” Janet spooned creamed corn onto Audrey’s plate.

“Not really,” Audrey muttered. Janet cut her eyes at Audrey and slammed the serving bowl back down. Audrey squeezed the fork in hand. This time she had been the one to ruin the moment.

“Well, it used to be.” Janet abandoned Audrey’s plate and began filling her own. “Until you started spending all your time with that doctor, lawyer, or whatever he is.”

“He’s in finance.”

“Six of one, half dozen the other.”

Audrey yanked her paper towel against her lips.

“You think you’re so special, don’t you? You’re not so different from me. You know that, right?”

“That’s not true.” Audrey scooped some corn onto her fork and poured it back onto her plate.

“Oh, yea. Well then, why ain’t you ever brought him to meet us then?” Janet pointed her fork at her daughter.

Audrey tried to imagine Colson visiting home with her. His nose upturned. His movement constricted as he tried not to touch anything more than necessary. She stifled a laugh. He’d have been on the phone with the Holiday Inn as soon as she had pulled her car into the yard to park.

“You might be living the highlife mooching off of him, but you can’t outrun your raisin’.”

“Mama, stop.” Audrey had stopped pretending to eat her food and gnawed on her thumbnail instead.

“And just ‘cause he buys you all those name brands, like they mean something, don’t mean he’s different. He can have more money than God; it won’t keep him from acting like every other man out there. You’ll see.” She pointed her fork at Audrey, a kernel hung onto one of the tines.

Audrey rubbed her forehead. “I know, Mama.”

She had thought he was different. He wore suits instead of coveralls, drank Basil Hayden bourbon instead of Keystone Light, and drove a sporty little Audi instead of a beat-up pick-up truck. Colson had come from a long line of trim men, whose muscles had been sculpted for their attractiveness and not their utility. Unlike her father, who sported a beer gut but could still split a log of wood with one fluid swing of the axe. Colson’s lack of physical power was initially what drew Audrey to him. His large bank account and his company of a higher class of people kept her around. But it hadn’t mattered. He hadn’t been that different after all.

She breathed out through her mouth and tilted her head back. Her eyes skimmed from the ceiling over the China cabinet and landed on her mother. If Janet was right about Colson that meant her mother was right about her, too. They did have this in common.

Audrey shrugged out of her sweater. Her pale skin purpled in long lines around her biceps, her forearms, her wrist. Janet froze mid-bite. Her mouth dangled open, and she pinched a sliver of chicken between her thumb and pointer fingers.

“Oh, baby.” The chicken fell to the table, and Janet pushed herself up. She wrapped her arms around her daughter. Audrey leaned into the hug. She breathed in her mother’s Bath & Body Works vanilla scent. The hair spray from Janet’s head caused the strands to press like hay into Audrey’s cheek. The faint trace of fingers on her back brought back the comfort of childhood. “It’s not my fault,” Janet whispered into Audrey’s hair. Audrey dropped her arms to her sides and clenched her jaw. She shoved herself away from her mother.

“God, Mom. Of course, it wasn’t,” Audrey scrambled to pull her sweater back up. “Not everything is about you.”

Janet stepped forward. She reached out and took Audrey’s hand.

“You don’t have to put up with this.”

“Neither, do you.” Audrey blinked hard to keep the tears reigned in.

Janet let go of Audrey’s hand. “Honey, I can’t.”

“Why the hell not, Mom? How many black eyes is it going to take?”

Janet lifted a hand and pressed a finger to her cheekbone. “‘Cause I love him, baby.” She pressed both hands down on Audrey’s shoulders. “I’m too old to start over but you’re not. Don’t be like me.”

Audrey shrugged her mother’s hands off and chuckled. “I’m not. Colson and I are done.” She turned her back on her mother and shut herself in her room.

& & &

That night, Audrey didn’t sleep. She laid in bed listening to the sound of the rainfall against the tin roof. The humidity felt thick against her skin. The fan’s light breeze offered only minimal relief.

She couldn’t help herself from thinking about Colson. She imagined his arms wrapped around her. His breath heaving against her neck as he slept. He would take her back if she drove home now. He’d say he was sorry and cover her with kisses. He’d open a bottle of wine and bring home flowers every day for a week. But she knew eventually he’d do it again. They always did it again.

Audrey pushed herself up and shimmied the wooden window open. She reached into her bag and lifted a long American Spirit to her mouth. She flickered the stainless-steel Zippo lighter and pulled the smoke into her lungs. She held it in her chest while she counted to five. She needed to savor the flavor. She wouldn’t be able to afford $8 a pack on her own. She wouldn’t be able to afford much of anything without Colson.

She bent her head down to blow the smoke through the crack in the window. She leaned back against the wall and rested her hand on the windowsill, so that the burning end stuck out into the night air. She and Colson had only been together for two years and leaving him was hard. Her parents had been married for 30 years. Maybe it was too late for her mother to save herself.

She took another drag and checked her phone. It was almost midnight, and her father still hadn’t returned. There was no doubt he would be toasted when he did finally come home, and that’s just how she wanted it.

She balanced the cigarette on the sill, and she pushed herself up from the bed. She pulled the long chain that dangled from the center of the room. The bright white light flooded the room. Audrey pulled the gun out of the drawer, crawled back onto the bed, and let the weight of the weapon lay heavy against her thigh while she finished her cigarette.

& & &

The first time Audrey had seen her father hit her mother she had only been seven. She had stood in the shadows of the hall frozen by the whispered insults being exchanged. Suddenly, her father’s arm lifted up and slapped Janet’s face so hard she spun to the ground.

“Daddy, no,” Audrey shouted as she stepped into the room. Her mother locked eyes with her. Janet’s hair hung around her face. Her skin was still taut then, and a rush of red filled one side of her face. Her eyes widened when she saw Audrey. “No, honey, go back to your room.”

But Audrey ran to her and tried to cover her mother’s long body with her own small torso. She wrapped her legs around her mother’s waist.

“Girl,” Her father ranted above her. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Janet flipped Audrey so that she crouched over the little girl. Audrey saw her father’s red face just past Janet’s shoulder. Janet arched her back down as his hand slid across her back.

“Idiot,” he yelled. “She needs discipline.”

“Not like that.” Janet laid her weight on top of Audrey smothering her daughter with protection.

“Spare the rod, spoil the child.”

Tears from her mother fell onto Audrey’s face.

“Mommy,” Audrey cried as she wrapped her arms around Janet’s neck.

& & &

Audrey’s eyes shot open. Voices screeched through the walls. She recognized the deep drawl of her father and the hurt puppy dog whimper of her mother. She wrapped her hand around the handle of the gun.

“I wouldn’t drink so much if you weren’t such a Goddamn nag. Just leave me alone.”

Audrey could barely make out the sounds of her mother’s apologies between the shouts.

“Can’t I get one minute of peace and quiet in my own house.”

The familiar sound of flesh against stinging flesh rang out. Audrey looked at the gun in her lap. She breathed in and squeezed it. She felt the weight of the dark hunk of metal in her hand. She heard her mother’s body thump and something shatter. Audrey stood up and tucked the gun into the waistband of her sweat pants.

“Daddy, leave her alone,” she said appearing in the living room. Her father swayed on his feet above her mother. Janet was curled into a ball below him. Stuffing from a busted pillow littered the floor around her body. The stench of beer and menthol flooded Audrey’s senses.

“Or what?” he said spitting in her direction.

“Don’t test me.” She clenched her fist until she felt her fingernails dig into her palm.

He stumbled over Janet and lumbered in Audrey’s direction. He swayed in front of her and poked her in the chest. “You ain’t gonna do nothing. You’re nothing.”

“No, Daddy, you’re nothing.” Audrey held his gaze.

He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her neck. She closed her eyes. She felt Colson’s hands on her. She felt the sharp pain across her face, the dull thud into her gut, the hot pressure of the glass sliding into her skin. She let herself feel that fear for a moment.

But this time was different.

She reached one arm behind her and pulled the gun out. She pushed it under his chin.

He laughed. “You don’t have the stones, girl.” He tightened his grip and cut off the rest of her breath.

& & &

The sun beamed over the beach. Audrey was five. She skipped in the surf and held Daddy’s hand. He lifted her high in the air. She was flying. Mama sat under the umbrella and let out a loud laugh. He pretended to let her fall as he guided her back to her feet.

“Do it again,” Audrey shouted. She jumped up and down clapping her hands.

“If the tickle monster doesn’t get you first,” he said crouching down and scrunching his fingers toward her. She squealed and ran toward Mama.

“Save me, save me,” Audrey giggled as she grabbed Mama’s shoulders from behind.

Mama threw her arms wide to block Daddy. “I’ll protect you.”

Daddy dove into the sand and rolled Mama and Audrey into his chest. He hugged them close and kissed each one on top of the head.

“I love you, Daddy,” Audrey said and nuzzled her head into Daddy’s chest.

& & &

Darkness crept into the edge of her vision, and she clawed at his hand with her free one. He snatched the gun from her hand and pushed her to the floor. He hovered over and aimed it at her head. He rocked back and forth like a short tree in the breeze. “Told you.”

She rolled over and pulled her knees to her chest. He dropped the gun onto a side table, and she listened to his footsteps as he walked to the kitchen.

Janet crawled over to her. “Oh, baby. Oh, baby. Are you OK?” She pulled Audrey into her lap and wrapped her arms around her. Audrey pressed her face into her mother’s chest. Janet ran her hands over Audrey’s hand again and again.

Audrey pulled back. “Mama, come with me. Let’s go. We have to get out of here.”

“Oh, baby, I told you I can’t.”

“Mama,” Audrey’s voice cracked. “He pointed a gun at me. He destroyed your face.”

“Come hell or highwater, I made a promise,” Janet said withdrawing back into herself. Her body no longer touched any part of Audrey’s. Her jaw was set, and her shoulders straight. “‘Til death do us part.”

Audrey wanted to argue. She wanted to grab her mother by her shoulders and shake her. She wanted to scream. But none of that would help. Only one thing would. She pushed herself up and grabbed the gun. She darted to kitchen. She ignored the calls from her mother, “No, stop. What’re you doing?”

In the kitchen, her father held a blue cup halfway to his lips when he saw her with the gun again. She saw fear in his eyes this time. “Quit coming after me with that damn gun. Shit.” She pulled the trigger as Janet grabbed her arm. The bullet fired straight into the ceiling.

“Mom.”

“Bitch.”

“You can’t do this.”

Audrey shook her mother off. She turned and slammed the gun across Janet’s face. She faced her dad. This time, she didn’t hesitate. Audrey squeezed the trigger, and the sound of the shot filled the room. Her father crumpled to the ground. She kept the gun pointed at her father as blood poured over the black and white checkered vinyl flooring.

Janet threw herself over her husband’s body sobbing. Blood dripped from a cut on her forehead and mixed with her husband’s. She reached into her pocket for her phone and lifted it to her face. Audrey saw her mother’s lips move, but she couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in her ears. She watched her mother kiss him all over his face. She pressed her hand into the wound. Blood stained her pale skin. Black mascara flooded over Janet’s cheeks. Her mouth never stopped moving even after she dropped the phone.

Blue lights filtered through the window. The gun clattered to the ground as Audrey realized what her mother was saying.

“I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

Audrey brushed her face back from her face and stumbled back. Janet looked up at her daughter. Fury flashed across her eyes. “Get out of my house.”

“I- I just, I wanted-”

“Out,” she shrieked. “Get out.”

Audrey stood and ran out. She met the officers on the front porch. “I did it,” she whispered. “I shot my daddy.” She felt a man grab her and pull her away. It wasn’t the first time a man had jerked her around. As he pushed her into the back of a police car, she wondered if he would be the last.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Julia Vanstory 2025