SAVING GRACE

SAVING GRACE

Grace Teasedale doesn’t feel the need to be saved, but that doesn’t stop the world from trying.

Maybe she’ll save it instead.

Grace Teasdale opened her eyes shortly after sunrise on her 70th birthday, stretched, and groaned out loud.  Where had all these aches and pains come from? This getting older crap was for the birds. Well, she might not have the body strength to muscle an armoire across the room anymore, or the grip to twist lids off jars without special tools, but at least her mind was still sharp. She only foundered for words now and again, didn’t lose her keys more than a few times a week, and found herself standing in a room wondering why she was there only occasionally. She was doing better than most her age, with their pharmaceutical cornucopias and blood pressure cuffs. This granny still had a few good protest marches and some solid world changing ahead of her.  So what if she needed a grabber to pick up her socks.

She ticked off the day’s possibilities. Her birthday wish was for relaxation and contemplation, and where would be better than the beach? Floating in the salty waters of the Pacific Ocean sounded dreamy.  Maybe she’d take the dogs!

Scratch that. Sky, her big, lanky hound dog was a friendly, galloping bag of happiness and slobber, while Tangy, a compact alpha female, was aloof with strangers and would just as soon eat their small pet as play with it. Tangy was great on lone hiking trails, but anti-social in public where Sky would be rounding up playmates. Determined to give them equal time, she snapped Tangy on a leash and headed outside. Sky looked on with sad eyes, but gone were the days she could wrangle two dogs at once. And gone were the days they could enjoy the neighborhood unrestrained. 

“You’ll get your turn,” she said, patting his head lovingly.

They were almost to the corner when a woman walking a Yorkie in a green hoodie

 approached briskly from behind. Grace planted her feet, tightening her grip on the leash in case

Tangy decided to engage. She felt prepared when Tangy hunkered and growled.

“Tangy, STAY!” Grace commanded.  Tangy stayed. Then leaned quietly around behind her and charged.  The leash whipped Grace’s legs right out from under her, flipping her flat on her back. Still restraining the dog, she lay there looking up into the blue sky, marveling at how quickly she’d found herself in this new position. The shadow of a husky black dog covered her face, as Tangy leaned over it and licked her cheeks.

Grace took stock. Could she get up? At least she hadn’t cracked her skull. Noticing the picket fence to her right, she did two barrel rolls and managed to pull herself up.

“Your walk’s ended, Tangy,” she muttered, limping home. This would not ruin her day!

With Sky settled amidst the beach gear, Grace turned her car toward Point Dune, taking a quick detour through her favorite taco stand. She watched with relish as they piled high the fresh ingredients. “Extra guacamole, please,” she said, practically drooling in anticipation.

Still early, her favorite cove was deserted. She spread out her blanket, poured water for Sky, then set him free, laughing as he bounded ecstatically down the beach, galloping back dragging driftwood far too heavy for fetching. Settling into her beach chair, she took a deep breath. The sun shone, seagulls soared, and surf sounds combined in exquisite ways to lull her to sleep.

She awoke to a poke in the arm. Grace shaded her eyes from the sun to look into the face of a panting, red-faced woman.

“My gosh…he’s fast…thought lost… yours?...thirsty… got water....he’s foaming,” she

gasped, pointing to Sky. Grace turned to look.

Huge, slimy bubbles reflecting the green of the sea cascaded from Sky’s mouth like an electronic bubble machine.

“Oh that. He’s just excited. Over-active salivary glands. He does that when he sees meat, too,” Grace smiled.

The woman caught her breath. “Wow. Weird. I called the number on his tag. Left a message. Neighbors were afraid, but just spit, right?” She leaned in closer. Sky chose that moment to shake his head violently, sending a monstrous glob of industrial strength saliva hurling straight at her. “Yeeeeeiiiii!” she screamed, flailing her arms to shake it off. The motion caused the goo to stretch, wrapping around her head like a turban as she twirled to escape it. She dry heaved and ran for the water.

Grace closed her eyes again.

The sun soon reached its pinnacle and the ocean beckoned. Grace grabbed her boogie board and paddled out. She was floating happily just beyond the breakers, when a stranger on the shore waved. She waved back. He pointed at her, to the sand, then back at her. She waved back again. What did he want? She’d always attracted the kooks.  She’d ignore him until he went away.

That’s when her lunch took flight.  It lifted off, in a tug of war between two seagulls who ripped the bag in half, mid-air. Grated cheese drifted on the wind, fragile taco shells crumbled, precious guacamole plunged to the sand as fifty more gulls converged.  Sky leapt out of their trajectory with a startled yelp. One skewered her soda. Green carbonation spread like an infection across her blanket. Anything left would be finished off by dog before she could reach land. She bobbed in the water verging on tears, watching her birthday lunch fly away.

She had just relaxed into the motion of the waves again, when a sharp whistle blasted her from her reverie. A burly lifeguard motioned her towards the shore.

Good Lord.  Couldn’t an old lady just relax?  “WHAT?” she looked around for sharks.
She couldn’t hear a damn word he said, but she understood his motions. 

“I’m FINE!” she yelled back. “A-O-K!”

Up came his megaphone, “YOU’RE TOO FAR OUT! COME BACK IN!”

Can’t these people just let me be? I’m perfectly safe! “I’m FINE!” she shouted again.

“COME BACK IN. NOW!”

“YOU COME OUT!” she bellowed.

“DON’T MAKE ME COME GET YOU!”

“Fuck it!” Grace snarled, paddling ashore.

She shot from the surf like a missile, aiming straight for the lifeguard, fury in her eyes. “I’ve been surfing and swimming here since I was sixteen years old! That’s over fifty years, if you’re wondering. I know these waters, and I was doing just fine out there before you turned your job into performance art!”

“Ma’am, there’s a riptide and you were getting very far out.”

“I know the difference between...” Just then, a small, sharp cross-current cut through the rolling ground swell. It rose up suddenly, smacking her from behind, flinging her forward with such force she landed face down in the water before it dragged her twenty feet backwards into the surf. Caught in the riptide, she came up sputtering. The lifeguard had her arm in seconds,

leading her coughing and choking from the water.

“If you hadn’t dragged me to the shore, that wouldn’t have happened!” she snapped, shoving his arm away.

Back on her blanket, she’d barely closed her eyes to shut out the humiliation when the lifeguard approached again.

“What now?” she snapped. “The sun here too hot for a little old lady?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but dogs aren’t allowed on this beach.”

“WHAT? Since when? I’ve been coming here for—”

“Fifty years, I know. New rule.”

“Well, some RULES just scream to be broken.”

“Maybe not this one. There’s a fine.”

“Since when has this been a rule?”

“It’s a new law. Sheriff comes by to enforce it. Just trying to protect you.”

“You know, I used to spend the night on this beach with only a sleeping bag, a dog, and a hunting knife for protection.”

The lifeguard stepped back. “Not today though, right?”

Grace plucked a string of cheese off her leg and popped it in her mouth, smiling a secret smile.

“That’s not a mad dog, right?” he asked. Sky, still salivating, stood up and wagged his tail.

“Madder by the minute, I’m thinkin,” Grace answered, scooping the froth from Sky’s mouth.

“Whaddaya’ say, Sky? Relent, or resist?” Sky sat down promptly. “That’s my boy!” she laughed, pulling him to her. “Power to the People! And the Dogs!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the lifeguard grumbled, turning away. Grace drew back her arm. The handful of slobber missed him by inches.

She leaned back once more, letting the drifting clouds, soaring birds, and sound of the surf soothe her, determined to take control of her birthday once again.

“Ma’am…MA’AM! Is that your dog?”

Jesus! What now? Grace opened one eye, taking her own damn time with the other. “What dog?”

“That dog.” A man in a sheriff’s uniform towered above her.

“I don’t see a dog,” Grace said, looking directly into the sun.

“You don’t?” said the officer from behind sunglasses so dark, they’d protect someone

from solar flares.

“Who are you? Men in black? Please don’t eat my dog!”

“We’ve gotten calls about a mad dog on the beach. Probably not mad.”

“No, in fact, he’s pretty damn happy here. So was I…until, well, you.”

“He’s foaming…”

What was that expression about sticking yourself with a fork?  Grace was done.  She mused on the exact wording before replying, “He drools over meat, too. You meaty?”

“I…uh, he can’t be on the beach.”

“Well, that’s funny, officer, because he’s ON the beach, have you noticed?”

“Well, get him off.”

“Why?”

“Because the law says he can’t be here.”

Grace stood up to her full height of 5’5” and shrinking. “I’m wondering who made this law?”

“I believe it was originally drafted by the homeowners down the beach.”

 “You know, Officer Obie, I’ve been bringing my dogs here since before there were houses on this beach.”

“Name’s McClintock, ma’am.”

“Well, I’m Grace, and you’re Officer Obie to me. Do you know who that is?”

“NO, ma’am.”

“He’s the main character in the most brilliant anti-establishment protest song to come out

 of the 1960’s.”

“I was born in 1980, ma’am.”

“Your loss, Officer Obie, your loss. I think you’re going to have to take me to jail. It’s a   

small protest, but it’s my protest.”

“Grace, I wouldn’t be taking you to jail, I’d be writing you a ticket.”

“Write it then.” Grace slapped the sand for emphasis.

“Your funeral,” McClintock scribbled out a ticket and handed it over. “Sign here.”

“Two hundred and fifty dollars? You’re insane!”

“Pretty sure I’m the sane one here,” McClintock mumbled.

“I’ll fight this, you know,” Grace said, handing it back.

“You’ll lose. The law’s clear.”

I’ll have my day in court. And it will be loud! Somebody’s got to stand up against intrusive laws enacted at the will of the elite!”

“Great, lady, do your thing. Now get your dog off the beach.”

“I refuse!”

“Then I’ll have to impound him.”

“Touch my dog and you’ll draw back a bloody stump, Obie!” Grace growled, grabbing Sky’s collar.

“Are you threatening an officer?”

“MOM?” Grace looked up the hill to see her daughter hurrying down the embankment. “Officer, what’s going on?”

“Your mother’s talked herself into jail, that’s what,” McClintock snapped.

“Jess! What are you doing here?”

“Somebody left a message that Sky was loose on the beach. I thought you’d been murdered or something. Did you spend the night?”

“No, but you’re just in time. They’ve banned dogs from our beach!”

“But we’ve been taking dogs to this beach since…”

“Time began, I know,” said McClintock, veins pulsing in his forehead.

Grace offered him her wrists, “Jess, take Sky, get my stuff, and get this all on video!”

“Geez,” muttered McClintock. “I really pulled the short straw today!”

“This wasn’t my vision for my birthday, either, Obie.”

***

Outside the courthouse, reporters clamored for news of the “Gutsy Granny.”

“All rise! Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge J. Rawlins presiding.”

Grace sat calmly awaiting her turn but flinched at the words:

“Case 57064 State of California versus Grace Teasedale.”

Judge Rawlins watched as a slender, silver-haired woman approached the bench. “There’s quite a clamor outside, over you, Grace Teasedale,” he said irritably, aware that his every word would be dissected live on the 6 o’clock news. “You’ve become quite the celebrity. I’ve read your statement. What say you?”

“I say some things need to change, Your Honor.”

“What kind of change you looking for, Grace?”

“The kind that limits government overreach and the ability of the rich and powerful to enact laws for their own benefit without the consent of the people.”

Ruth, the court reporter threw herself into high gear.

“And you believe arguing over a dog will accomplish that?”

“It will start the conversation, Your Honor. Little things do. That beach has been unregulated since before I was born. It was public property, snatched up by wealthy powerbrokers in backroom deals.  Afterward, they enacted laws that took away access for the rest of us! That’s wrong!”

“So you think the wealthy should go unprotected?”

Let them protect their own rights! If we rabble have problems, we handle them ourselves. We don’t make invasive laws to protect us! Let them get off their fancy fannies and resolve issues like grownups, instead of whining to the government for protection!”

The courtroom cheered wildly.

“Order!” snapped the judge. “You getting all this Ruth? His stenographer nodded, fingers flying.

Grace pressed on. “Your Honor, most people try hard to accommodate others.  Sure, there’s always some irresponsible apples, but mature people learn to get along without taking rights away from others because of a few.”

“YEAH!” someone shouted.

“People my age struggle with dogs on leashes. So, what? We shouldn’t own dogs?  A dog park is like an old folk’s home. I can’t access trails anymore because there’s no parking signs throughout the canyons. Why? That beach got along just fine for decades without that law, and Officer Obie there…”

“McClintock!” corrected the officer, shooting to his feet.

“…Officer Obie to me, reminiscent of…” a spark of recognition swept across the judge’s features and a hearty laugh erupted.
“…the brilliant 1966 counter-culture anthem satirizing the authority complex with ‘Alice’ in the title?”

“The very one,” Grace beamed.

“That song once meant something to me, as well,” he mused, caught inexplicably in her glow.

“All right, Grace. You’ve had your say. My verdict is as follows:  Fine suspended in lieu of time served. I suspect the furor that’s waiting outside will be sentence enough. Who knows, maybe the revolution starts with you. You’ve already managed to go viral.”

“I went viral?” Grace’s hands flew to her mouth.

“And I’m assuming some bootleg version of these proceedings will, as well,” Judge Rawlins scowled threateningly.

“Thank you, Your Honor, and respectfully, I’ve one last thing to say!”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

 “POWER TO THE PEOPLE!”  Grace shouted, pumping her fist skyward. “AND THE DOGS!”

Pandemonium erupted. Judge Rawlins slammed his gavel down on the bench. Then he leaned back, smiled conspiratorially, and flashed Grace the peace sign.

~taree Belardes

NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Comp 2019

3/13/19

Genre; Comedy/ a dog leash
1000 words, 48 hrs to write
2nd place in group-