01
June 2, 1992 5:51 PM Gram, Kentucky.
Marlene McKinnon laid in her bed. The same, twin-sized mattress she had slept on since she was a child.
She stared up at the ceiling, the same glow-in-the-dark stars dotting the ceiling. She remembered putting them there many years ago.
So many things in this room were the same. Beyond the room, too. Her days were the same. Her whole life was the same.
She woke up, went to school, came home, went to work, and went to sleep.
Every.
Single.
Day.
And she was so fucking tired of this endless cycle. She dreamed of the day when something came to take her from it. An angel from heaven, or a knight in shining armour. Something to break this grueling routine.
But that would never happen. Nothing would magically save her. And she was tired of waiting.
Marlene had saved, stolen, and collected everything. She had $2,000 in cash, two duffel bags full of her belongings, and a dream.
A dream of New York City.
She had heard of immigrants coming from foreign lands and starting a new life in New York.
She wasn’t from a foreign land. But the idea of starting over was so enticing. She could make friends, get a new job, hell, even get a boyfriend.
Gram, Kentucky was the most boring town anyone could think of. It was the only civilization in a hundred miles of farmland. The nearest big city was Dayton, but you could hardly call it that. It had a few bars, a mall, and a handful of restaurants. But nothing special. Not as special as New York.
The only restaurant in Gram was a diner called Dean’s Place, and all it had 3 booths and a 6-seat counter.
Marlene worked at Dean’s, as one of the three staff members. There was the owner, Patty. She was Dean’s wife, and she took over for him when he passed away a few years ago. She hated everyone but him, so she was quite the lady to work for.
The cook, Mick, kept to himself. He would cook the few orders they got per day, and spend the rest of his time smoking out back.
And then there was Marlene. She did everything else, wash the dishes, count the money in the register every night, and serve customers. There had been a few notable ones over the 4 years she worked there, which she had some steamy one-night-stands with in the backs of cars. The others were mostly old people or giggly teenagers. She got a kick out of messing with them. Switching the salt and sugar definitely fucked with people.
“Marlene!” her mom yelled from the kitchen, snapping her out of her daydream.
She knew damn well her mother could do whatever she wanted Marlene for. But she made her do it, just to get her to come out of her room.
According to Melissa McKinnon, Marlene spent too much time by herself, and that was the cause of her ‘depression’.
Not the years and years of being in the middle of a horrible marriage.
Not being forced to take care of her four brothers from a young age.
Not being ruthlessly hit for any mistake she ever made.
Marlene stood up at her mother’s second yell, and stalked down the hall and into the kitchen.
“Kill that spider. And go clean the bathroom. You’ve been in your room too long.
Marlene grabbed a dishrag that was hanging off the oven handle. She rolled it up, and snapped it at the spider.
Its dead body fell down the wall and beside the stove. It was kind of symbolic.
That spider had ventured inside the house, and decided to climb onto the kitchen wall, all to be ended by a simple dishrag. What if when she got to New York, Marlene was ended by a dishrag? What if her body fell down the wall and behind the stove?
She shuddered, turning to go clean the bathroom and ignoring her mother’s orders to not scrub the toilet with one of her good towels.
What if something happened in New York? People get jumped and killed all the time.
But she wanted to leave. And New York was her biggest desire. Honestly, she could get jumped and killed. At least she’d die somewhere other than Gram.
June 2, 1992 10:45 PM Cashland Pawn, Dayton, Kentucky.
Marlene stepped out of her truck, and grabbed the trash bag full of stuff from the bed. She was going to pawn it all for cash, and steal some from the shop too.
The bell above the door let out a soft ping as she walked inside. People’s old junk lined the walls and shelves, and the smell of must and cigarettes filled her nostrils.
“How can I help you, miss?” asked a lady behind the counter, smiling and showing the hot pink lipstick smeared on her lips and teeth
“I’ve got a shitload of stuff I need cash for,” Marlene replied, placing the bag on the counter. She knew that the lady was judging her. All the people like her that wore too much lipstick and foundation judged her.
The people that had a problem with the amount of eyeliner Marlene wore. The people that would frown at her kissing girls, and even guys. The people that whispered a certain slur that started with an F as she passed, just at the way she looked.
“That’s what we do here! May I take a look?” the lady asked, dishing back her attidude. Marlene saw that her name tag read MACY.
“Sure,” Marlene replied, untying the top of the bag and dumping the contents onto the counter a little too aggressively. For good reason, because she saw Macy’s scowl at her fingerless gloves.
Macy sifted through the contents, making little piles of the cassettes, CDs, and books. She counted them, pulled out a little calculator, put in a bunch more numbers, and finally looked up.
“I can do 200 for it all. You said cash?” Macy asked.
Marlene nodded, slightly dissatisfied with the price. That was at least $300 in music alone. But she was eyeing some conveniently pocket-sized CDs on the shelves, so it evened out.
“Can you do that in store credit, actually? I think I’m gonna look around some,” she asked, narrowing her eyes at Macy. If she said she was gonna buy something, she could pay for something small and stuff the rest in her pockets without looking suspicious.
“Sure. Grab what you want and I’ll give you back what you don’t spend,” Macy answered with a little too much sweetness in her voice.
Marlene turned around a little too fast, and headed toward the shelves. She picked up Bleach by Nirvana on CD and stuck it in her hoodie pocket. She grabbed a few more, tucked them in her waistband, and decided to buy Abbey Road, which she had just sold a copy of.
She moved towards a rack of clothes. She’d have to buy the jacket, but she could get away with a few T-shirts up her sleeves.
Once she had Abbey Road on CD and a brown leather jacket in her hand, two CDs and a shirt in her hoodie and 3 more CDs in her waistband, she headed for the register.
“That's all?” Macy asked, narrowing her eyes at Marlene as she set her purchase on the counter a little too hard.
“Yup. All you’ve got in here is oldies and moth-eaten shit,” she lied. Stealing wasn’t really all that hard. You just had to have a good story, and some big clothes on.
Macy nodded, pushing some buttons on the register. “Is that so,” she said. It was less like a question and more like a statement. Like she knew something Marlene didn’t. “That’ll be $7 off your 350, so here’s your $343.”
Macy handed her the wad of cash, and Marlene took it from her a little too harshly.
“Thanks!” she said, flashing a fake smile and turning to the door.
“Have a good one!” Macy called, her tone cold. “Bless your heart.”
She turned, flipped her off, and slammed the door on her way to her truck. She knew what that meant. You disgust me.
***
Marlene emptied her pockets onto the seat beside her. She folded the clothes up and threw them into the duffel bag on the floorboard, leaving the CDs spread out.
She looked over all of them. Metallica, Alice In Chains, Nirvana, Megadeth, and Pearl Jam. Which one?
She settled on Metallica, and skipped to Wherever I May Roam. It felt like a movie, driving back to Gram and stopping around the corner from her house.
This would be the last time she came here. The last time she saw her childhood home. The last time she parked around the corner to sneak back in.
And she had absolutely no problem with that.
Marlene walked silently through the house, and into her bedroom. She hopped up on the bed, and picked one of the stars off her ceiling.
A little piece of home she could destroy once she got to New York.
She shoved the little star in the pocket of her new leather jacket, and walked down the hall. She poked her head into the room all four of her younger brothers shared. She felt bad leaving them alone with her parents, but they didn’t have it as bad.
They didn’t get the harshest of the beatings, or the loudest lectures like she did. Sure, her parents were abusive to them as well. Maybe when she was gone, Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon would realize how much of a hostile environment they had created.
Marlene moved on, into the kitchen. She found a notepad by the phone, and scribbled down a note.
I’m leaving. I’m 18 and school is over. You can’t keep me here forever. Tell Patty I quit. Don’t hit the boys anymore.
Fuck you,
Marlene
She stuck the note to the fridge, and walked out the door. Nothing was keeping her here. She could leave now.
And that’s exactly what she did.