Farrow is Friendless
A Hazard City Limits 'Teaser'
Things have been tough — real tough since my best friend Mary went missing. For as long as I can remember, people in his town have put me down, sneered at me or taunted, but the tension of late has grown to a whole new level.
I’ve tried to keep going, putting one foot in front of the other, minding my own business, like my mama taught me.
“Don’t react, Farrow. You do, an’ you’ll just be fuelling their fun,” she’d say, as she cleaned up my scrapes and cuts.
Mary’s advice sat at the opposite end of the scale.
“You can’t roll over Farrow, you gotta stand tall, give some back. You’re too soft!”
Dale’s was busy. People sat in the cafe, or shopped for produce, but all went quiet as I stepped in the door. Trent was doing his barista thing, his sister Betty Sue at the till.
Wishing to disappear, I grabbed a wire basket, and dived between the narrow aisles. I loaded up with milk, cereal, bread and Velvita cheese, tossing in some chips and a frozen pizza.
I hunched my shoulders, and queued up to pay. I heard my name a couple of times — seemed I was today’s hot topic.
“Yeah, Farrow Jackson, Velma’s boy.
“He was thick as thieves with Mary.”
“That fairy boy? Sounds suspicious, if he don’t like girls,”
Two women’s sharp tongues, talking trash about me, to a man with a gravelly voice.
“I heard he was with her, the night she went missing. They were down by the river.”
“’Spect that’s where he done away with her.”
“Sylvie talked my ear off last Sunday — she’s beside herself with worry.”
“Can’t blame her, she’s lost enough already.”
“Damn shame!”
“What I can’t understand is why he’s still walking around town — bold as brass.”
Other voices chimed in, prim church ladies, the type who’d looked down their noses at Mama and me. Dishing their dirt and ecstatic for me to overhear it.
“Mary was bold, but she took care o’ them boys. But him — well, he’s always looked shifty to me.”
“Mmm-hmm. A black sheep.”
“Black heart.”
I edged forward, almost to the till, and the haven of Betty Sue, who was glancing uncertainly from my face to the people behind me.
“Hey! Farrow!” the gravelly voice was raised, and getting closer — cutting across the gasp of the coffee machine, and the scrape and chink of cups and knives.
“We all know what ya did, why dontcha come clean?”
A scalding flush flooded my neck and ears with heat. Sweat prickled under my shirt. Years of being bullied rushed back to torment me — a frog splayed out for class dissection.
“Sheriff Mahoney!” Betty-Sue almost squeaked, her wide eyes bright with emotion.
“Now what’s all this then?”
The Sheriff’s voice rang with authority and, as he swept into Dale’s, his swagger held a hint of menace.
There was a confusion of shuffling and muffled voices, before the gruff fellow became their spokesman.
“We was just wondering how your investigation into Mary Dermot’s disappearance was going, Sheriff. Thought maybe Farrow had something to share.”
“How I conduct my investigation is none of your concern, Glenn.”
He rested meaty hands on his black leather belt, his belly slightly straining the buttons on his uniform shirt, but he still looked imposing.
“Do you have some new information Farrow? If so, let’s go to my office.”
It was hard to look him in the eye, but the way he stared me down, I knew it wouldn’t do no good to act squirrelly.
“No sir, nothing.”
I wiped one sweaty palm on my jeans, the other clutched the basket. Panic roiled in my belly. Folk’s accusatory glares pressed in, near melting me into my sneakers.
Sheriff Mahoney re-directed his laser-beam stare at the hateful faces. People still inched forward, reminding me of villagers with pitchforks. Jeez, I wanted to run.
“Everyone, go about your business.
Eric, I need a word — my vehicle is still running a little rough.”
With those words, the Sheriff dismissed us. I paid for my groceries and high-tailed it out of Dale’s, without even glancing at Trent.
My body trembled as I walked home, adrenaline I guess, from facing the hatred I’d always known was there. This town never accepted, or trusted me or my mama.
I’d love it if you took a peek at the longer series I’m teasing here - it’s a dark and secret-packed, written in collaboration with Short Fiction by Jet Propelled.
The seed of our inspiration was a moody hit from the 1980’s ‘Hazard’ by Richard Marx, and we used the lyrics as our starting point for building a narrative of small-town prejudice and intrigue which revolves around a girl (Mary) going missing and how all the suspicion is turned on a troubled young man —the last person to see her.
A few weeks ago I shared a piece about our collaborative process. We have just 3 more episodes to go.
Hey, this was great! Got me wondering about Farrow now 🤔