Love In A Trashcan

Pretty in Black / The Raveonettes








Imagine the chord progressions of the ‘50’s, the country Texas twang of Buddy Holly, with songs written by Bonnie and Clyde and you kind of have this Danish Indie duo. If you like music of varying sorts, they are definitely worth the listen.

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It was a beautiful June day. Cool for summer, warm for spring. The week school was getting out, all one had to do was show up. And it had been my day. It felt like everything in the universe had lined up right.

I’d just gotten off the phone having lined up the sweetest summer job ever. Recommended by a mom of a friend, I had just agreed to ‘baby sit’ the Johnson’s girls for the summer: two sisters for an hourly rate that was higher than minimum. The girls, age 13 and 11, were not exactly babies. I knew them both by sight from school. They seemed like good kids. Their mom had explained they didn’t really need supervision; she just wanted someone around with driver’s license and car, in case of emergencies.

I had a car and a license. Their mom said the girls knew me, too, by sight and as I came recommended, it was all but a done deal. She would call in a week to confirm. She wanted to check my DMV record. That was fine with me as I knew it would report nothing. Even better? It was a gig for Monday through Friday 9 am to 3 pm, included a free lunch and use of the family pool. Sweet.

After I let out the whoop and called my two best friends, neither of whom was home, I couldn’t stand to be in the quiet apartment alone. I did what all teenage residents of small rural America do, if they have a car: I took to the road. If one drove around long enough and to the usual haunts, one could always find some other lost soul hanging out and equally as bored.

On a nice spring night, it took me only four miles to find the current parking lot hang out. I pulled in, spoke to my friends, telling them my news. They were not as impressed, still it was nice to have told someone and my adrenaline rush was starting to fade.

Certainly not ready to go home myself, I climbed the hood of my car to enjoy the twilight and laugh at the probably trashed schoolmate who was trying to chase fireflies. The young man who slide up to lean against the bumper next to me, introduced himself as Greg. Though he was a year older than I in our school of 400 students, I swear I had never seen him before in my life.

He was quiet and shy. Cute. Apparently he’d seen me and I was perfectly fine with that. We talked of all the normal things: school, music, town. He told me his address, sure I wouldn’t know the location. Oh, I did. I would be spending the summer working at his neighbor’s house. This was definitely my day.

We talked till the sun faded completely and the mosquitoes started to eat us alive. But to leave meant the risk not speaking again. Still, I knew I had to get home.  So, when he asked for my number, there was no hesitation that I would provide it. With out paper, I gladly scrawled it on his arm.


The next morning at school I couldn’t wait to find Leah, she was not going to believe this. And I had strongly suspected it was her mom that had gotten me the job. This needed to be confirmed and thank yous proffered.


Leah found me at my locker, starting speech mid frenetic sentence as she often did.

“Imagine that? You are not going to believe this…Mandy Johnson is MISSING.”

I missed the rest of her words as my heart and stomach lodged in my throat.

According to good authority, she’d gone outside at 6:00 that morning to feed their pet goat. She didn’t come back in. Updates during the day didn’t offer encouragement. We all watched TV, we all knew the longer someone was missing, the worse it was.


By mid afternoon they had the called in the helicopters, the dogs and every wanna be cop and firefighter in town was searching the area’s fields and woods. Including I heard, their neighbor Greg, who I heard was very upset and had insisted on staying home from school to help with the search. Leah was not only a bit of a busy body, but her mother was too, and her father a cop. Her information was always good.

You look awful, but you’re about to be worse.” Leah began again at my locker the next morning. “They found Mandy. She was three quarters buried alive in the way back of the property…”


Leah always liked horror stories a little too much.  She reported them with a disturbing glee.  My stomach tightened and I’m sure I looked green as Leah went on.

“She’s alive, but…not in good shape. They think she has brain damage, and their not sure if she’ll walk again…”


“Ohmygod. What happened?” The goose bumps were rising on my arm. This was a small rural town. This was a sweet thirteen year old kid in her back yard. If a lunatic was on the loose… “Do they know who did it?”

“Ah yeah.” Leah said, full indignation as she jutted a hip out and hugged her notebook to her, “Their neighbor! They found the shovel he hit her over the head with and used to bury her.” She said leaning in and lowering her voice. “That’s not public info, yet”


It took me a moment, I was thinking, ‘their neighbor, Greg’s dad?’


“Greg confessed this morning. Weren’t you talking to him the day before yesterday? You are lucky, girl….”  I didn’t hear anything else.