This is one of my favorite short stories that I wrote many years ago. The premise began as a joke between a couple of my sci-fi friends and myself. I've read it publicly with a great response.
I always hoped a publisher would pick it up to publish it, but that hasn't happened. Thus, I've decided I'm just going to post "Mints" here and share this tale with all my readers.
Mints
by
Heather Hobson
"You
didn't," Serina giggled. She
snatched the perfectly wrapped present from Adam's outstretched hands.
Adam beamed
as Serina yanked off the silver ribbon, then the white paper. His brown eyes looked on, mesmerized, as her
carefully painted fingers tore the last bit of paper away. He licked his lips.
"You
know me so well," she laughed, reading the words "Bespin Han
Solo" across the top of the package.
She grinned at him, knowing their passion for Star Wars was one of their
common bonds.
"I know
he's your favorite," Adam teased, his eyes focused on the packaged action
figure. He read over the bright colored
words again. He licked his lips.
"He
sure is," Serina replied. She
leaned forward to kiss Adam.
"Be
careful," Adam scolded not knowing how harsh he sounded. "You don't want to damage the
package. One crease and the value
drops."
"You
know I don't care about that," Serina stated. Her eyes twinkled with mirth. She positioned her fingers as if she would
rip the card board backing from the plastic cover.
Frowning,
Adam took the action figure from her as if she were a small child. He rose from the bed and carefully placed it
on the hotel dresser. He stood looking
at it for a long time. At last he said, "Oh,
did I tell you? I bought something else
too." His voice had softened a
bit. He still stood, peering down at the
figure as he continued to speak.
"It's the new Boba Fett Replica by Don Post Studios. It's actually full-size."
Serina gave
a half laugh. "Where are we going
to put it? We have yet to move all my
stuff into the house?"
"I was
planning on the living room," Adam stated with all seriousness.
Serina shook
her head. At last she called out,
"Adam?"
"What?"
he questioned, wondering if he should tell her about the life-size Stormtrooper
now or later.
Not wanting
to talk anymore, Serina said, "Adam, you know this is our wedding
night."
"I
know," he answered, turning to see Serina stretched out across the bed,
her white teddy clinging tightly to her.
* * *
Shelves,
from floor to ceiling, covered two whole walls of the spare bedroom. Serina's eyes roamed over them as she stood
in the doorway. She hardly dared
breathe. Her arms hung limp at her
sides, her fingers itched. She read the
labels of each box: "Star Wars
Return of the Jedi Rebel Soldier"; "Official Ben Kenobi Light
Saber"; "Star Wars Princess Leia Organa Pre-painted 12" Vinyl
Kit." Serina bit her lower
lip. She took one step into Adam's
sterile sanctuary.
Reaching
out, she ran a single finger across the shrink wrapped box reading "New
Star Wars Electronic Power F/X 22" X-Wing with Luke." Not a single blemish of dust clung to her
sweaty finger. She made another
tentative step. Her eyes ogled the
"Official Han Solo Laser Gun."
Heart pounding, she moved to pick up the box.
Just as her
fingers made contact she heard, "Serina?" She leapt back as if the
box had turned into a Jaba the Hut.
Stumbling out of the room, her trembling hands slid the door shut.
"I'm
here," she replied, running down the carpeted stairs.
* * *
"How
much?" Serina asked, her fingers clutching a shot glass. Her heart thundered. Her head spun.
"Ten."
"Okay,"
she whispered. She forced the glass to
her lips. The liquid burned her throat. She found herself thinking of the cantina on
Tatooine. The man opposite her, leaning
back as casually as Han Solo had when Ben Kenobi had approached him.
"Five
before and five after."
Serina
nodded. The man rose up from the
table. She wondered how he could see
anything in the darkened room through his wraparound sunglasses. Nervously, she played with the scarf knot
under her chin. She hoped no one would
recognize her.
"Tomorrow. Here.
Bring the money," he added before departing.
* * *
Serina paced
by the phone. Her hands tapped
occasionally against her thighs. She
half expected to hear the click of the lock, instead of the phone. She wondered where Adam was. Her mind raced over the possibilities.
A quick ring
interrupted her thoughts. Shaking,
Serina stared at the phone. Four rings
faded before she picked up the receiver.
"Yes?" she hoarsely whispered.
"It's
done."
Whatever
reply Serina had been formulating disintegrated as the buzz off the door bell
radiated through the house. Dropping the
phone handle, a wave of nausea assailed her.
The buzz blasted again.
Slowly
Serina walked to the front door, passing the full-size Boba Fett which she had
been forbidden to touch. He seemed to glare at her through his helmet, his gun
pointed upward, ready to shift at the slightest need. As she turned the dead
bolt, Serina felt certain she would faint.
"Mrs.
Sinclair?" The police officer asked before the door was halfway open.
Serina
leaned against the two-inch door jam.
Her eyes stared at the silver badge plastered against neatly pressed
navy blue.
"Mrs.
Sinclair?"
Serina
nodded.
"May I
come in?"
Serina
neither moved nor replied.
"May I
come in?" the officer asked again.
When Serina still failed to respond, the officer shuffled his feet for a
moment. Then he said, "Mrs.
Sinclair, I regret to inform you, but your husband was shot and killed."
A red haze
clouded Serina's vision. She wavered on
her feet. She did not notice the
policeman's arm reach out to catch her.
* * *
"What
is this world coming to?" Aunt Rose complained angrily. Her fingers clutched her purse
ferociously. "They better catch
that fiend. Death penalty for sure. You can't even drive your car without being
shot."
Serina said
nothing. Her fingers tugged on the hem
of her black sleeve. Her breaths were
quick. She felt suffocated, as though
shoved in a box. There appeared to be a
ceaseless flow of mourners. Her head
ached for quiet and releases. Looking
up, she focused on the Boba Fett. She
felt certain he would lower his laser gun and shot her at any moment.
"Do
they have any leads?" Aunt Rose pressed.
Serina shook
her head, still staring at Boba Fett.
* * *
A faint
smile cracked Serina's lips as she locked and bolted the front door behind her
parents. With renewed energy, she ran to
the kitchen. Yanking out an entire
drawer, she spilled the contents over the island. Her fingers knocked rubber bands and candles
and unidentifiable keys onto the floor before they locked on a package of
matches.
Darting from
the kitchen, she ran into the living room.
Without slowing she brushed her hand across the fiberglass armor of Boba
Fett. Then she bounded up the stairs,
two at a time. The spare bedroom door
banged against the wall. The shelves
rattled. Serina grabbed the garbage can
out from under the desk.
Laughing she
seized the "Bespin Han Solo."
With squeals of delight she ferociously ripped apart the packaging. Tossing the action figure on the desk, she
lit a match. Her eyes danced with
sadistic mirth as she held the cardboard backing over the garbage. She waited until the flames leapt at her
finger tips. Serina then dropped it into
the waste basket.
Her hand snatched up another perfectly mint box. She would not be satisfied until ever last
toy was freed and marred with her finger prints.
