Fiction logo

Something Borrowed

Family laughs

By Don MoneyPublished 2 years ago 7 min read
1
Something Borrowed
Photo by Scott Rodgerson on Unsplash

“Why is there a sheriff's car parked in front of the church?” Aunt Peggy’s voice echoed through the foyer.

My cousins Chris and Scotty rushed over to look out the window toward the road. “And look mom,” Scotty called to Aunt Peggy, “there are two deputies coming up the sidewalk to the church.”

Chris rushed over to open the door taking his usher duties seriously, “Should I ask if they are on the bride’s side or groom’s side?”

Scotty and I laughed as Chris pulled the door open. The three of us lived close together, and much to the detriment of being able to take anything serious, we spent all of our time together. Most of the family had taken to calling us the three musketeers. Much to our dislike, my older brother Tommy had taken it a step further and nicknamed us: Dorkos, Weirdis, and Wimpos. The older brothers of Chris and Scotty were happy to continue that tradition.

As the two deputies came into the church, Chris decided to carry out his questioning of the two deputies. Neither of the two looked happy at what they must have perceived to be a joke.

The taller deputy spoke up, “I’m Deputy Thomas. Who is driving that white Monte Carlo parked behind the church?”

Aunt Peggy spoke up, “I don’t know, deputy, we are getting ready to have a wedding here. I don’t think it belongs to anyone in the family, but let me go check with the groom and see if it is from his family or people.”

Aunt Peggy disappeared through the door into the sanctuary headed for the back. The two deputies looked uneasy at being stuck with three kids staring at them. The other deputy decided to break the tension, “So boys, which one of you is getting married?”

The other deputy laughed. The three of us were not unfamiliar with the feeling of being teased, as we all had older brothers who made a profession of it. Scotty beat me to the punch, “Oh, no sir, it’s not one of us, it is two of our cousins.” He tried not to snicker as he continued, “they are marrying each other.”

The two deputies obviously knew they were being put on. The shorter deputy patted his handcuff case, “How would the three of you hooligans like to take a ride in the car?”

The threat did not escape us, but I was a little miffed at the name calling, “We are musketeers not hooligans.”

Before the verbal exchange could escalate Aunt Peggy came back with her oldest son Rusty in tow. “Deputies,” Aunt Peggy addressed the two, while eyeing the three of us boys, clearly understanding her lack of judgment leaving us alone with the deputies, “This is my son Rusty, he parked the car there. We can move it if it is in the way of anything.”

The two deputies exchanged a glance and the taller one moved closer to Rusty. “Sir, I am Deputy Thomas and this is Deputy Turner, we need you to place your hands behind your back.”

This is the moment I will vividly recall for the rest of my life as the sound that came out of Aunt Peggy was a mix between an air raid siren and the sound of one thousand angry bees. An outsider to the family might be inclined to think that Aunt Peggy was about to intervene on her son’s behalf, but those outsiders were unaware of Rusty’s proclivity at troublemaking.

“Once you have him cuffed I would like a minute alone with him,” she requested of the deputies.

“Ma’am,” Deputy Turner said, “if you will let us continue here.”

In a minute, they had Rusty cuffed and his rights read to him. I found it odd that Rusty had not questioned why he was being arrested. This was clearly an indication there was some guilty matter that he had partaken in.

One of the deputies pulled a set of car keys from Rusty’s front jeans pocket. “Are these the keys to the Monte Carlo?” he questioned.

“Wait,” Rusty had finally found his voice, “Is that what this is all about? It is ok deputies, the car is part of the wedding tradition.”

The two deputies were completely confused at this point. Deputy Thomas sought some clarification, “The stolen car is part of the wedding?”

Aunt Peggy was as confused as the rest, “Wait, Rusty, you stole a car?”

“No, mom,” Rusty replied, “I borrowed it.”

Deputy Turner jumped in, “Borrowed?”

“Borrowed,” Rusty said.

“That car was reported stolen this morning,” Deputy Thomas added.

The three of us boys watched the conversation bounce back and forth like a ping pong match.

“Not stolen, borrowed,” Rusty reiterated.

“I don’t understand, Rusty Lee,” Aunt Peggy said.

That was a bad sign for Rusty. Aunt Peggy had just called him by his first and middle name. If she got to all three names the safest place he could be would be in police custody.

“You are the one that told me to do it,” Rusty said, still obviously confused at these circumstances he found himself in.

The deputies looked questionly at Aunt Peggy based on this revelation and possible confession.

I leaned over to Scotty, “If your mom goes to jail, you can live with us.”

“I appreciate that,” he said. “If they put Mom and Rusty in the back of the same police car then she will be in jail for much longer.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Well, I figure murder carries a pretty long jail sentence,” Scotty said.

Back at the main event, Aunt Peggy, Deputy Thomas, and Deputy Turner were waiting for Rusty to explain himself.

The stares prompted him, “Remember, Mom, when at Tonya's reception last night the family divided up the bride’s traditions?”

Aunt Peggy, Scotty, Chris, and I all fell into a flashback of the preceding night. As with each wedding in our family the gifts for the bride's tradition were assigned at the reception. Chris’ family was responsible for something old, my family was to bring something new, Aunt Peggy’s family got something borrowed, and Grandma was bringing something blue.

I was still in the dark, but I could see the light come on in Aunt Peggy’s head, “Rusty, you told me that you wanted to show me you could be responsible and would take care of something borrowed.”

Rusty jumped in, “And I did take care of it.”

“By stealing a car?” Aunt Peggy was getting mad I could tell. Every time I spent the night with Scotty and saw that little blue vein pop out on her temple I knew it was time to head back to my own house.

“I didn’t steal it,” Rusty tried to justify, “Borrowed. That was my assignment.”

I am not sure if it was the sincere way he delivered the explanation or the complete clueless look that was splayed across Rusty’s face, but Deputy Thomas excused himself to go out and make a radio call. Aunt Peggy just stood there shaking her head speechlessly, which was something that didn’t happen often.

My mom came walking in from the back of the church and saw the deputy standing there with Rusty handcuffed and thought this was a good time for a speech, “See boys,” as she addressed Scotty, Chris, and I, “This is going to be what happens to you if you don’t straighten up and act right.”

Before anyone could explain, Deputy Thomas returned. “I talked to the vehicle’s owner and after hearing the circumstances decided against filing charges.”

Deputy Turner took the cuffs off of Rusty and the two men left to return the keys of the Monte Carlo.

Rusty apologized, “Sorry, now we don’t have anything borrowed.”

Aunt Peggy said, “We could count the borrowed time you are living on.”

In the end, my mom saved the day finding something borrowed. All I remember is that the three of us boys got a good laugh at seeing one of our tormentors on the receiving end as Aunt Peggy, once the deputies were gone, chased down Rusty with a broom delivering only the swift justice a mom can do.

family
1

About the Creator

Don Money

Don Money was raised in Arkansas on a farm. After ten years in the Air Force, he returned to his roots in Arkansas. He is married with five kids. His journey to become a writer began in the sixth grade when he wrote his first short story.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.