Mia's Diary
Chapter 31
“Aunt Laura’s coming here? How soon? Did she say what her news is?”
I know firing off so many questions at my mom irritated her, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t contain my curiosity. Had Aunt Laura finally found my dad?
“She didn’t say. Just be patient.” Mom saw the face I was making. “Please, Mia. Please.”
Patient. What else have we all been? We’ve been here three months – it feels like a hundred years – and we have no idea where my dad is or where Luis’ family is or how much longer we have to live like this.
We just wait.
And wait.
And try not to complain but I’m not great at that.
What we’re going through now reminds me of the pandemic.
Right before spring break when I was in second grade, the Covid pandemic started. I came home from school on a Thursday afternoon and that night we were told not to come back the next day.
Instead, we did some sort of weird virtual school using laptops and tablets and it was a mess.
We stayed home for a year. A year without friends or birthday parties or Girl Scout meetings. A year of living at home with no one going anywhere or anyone visiting us.
Kind of like now, to be honest.
So I know I can exist in this vacuum-like state. I just didn’t really want to have to do it again.
Uncle RW came in and saw me slumped on my favorite big easy chair, looking glum, I suppose.
“Do you want your shooting lesson?”
I shrugged. “Sure. But what about Luis and Daniel?” I looked over at the two of them on the couch, hypnotized by Tom and Jerry on television.
“Your mom and I decided it was a better idea to teach you one at a time. Safer.”
That actually made sense. I could see bratty Daniel running around in front of us.
“Okay, I guess.”
“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming, Mia,” Uncle RW said but he smiled to soften his sarcasm.
“Sorry. What do I need? Anything?”
He looked at my feet. “Shoes would be a good idea.”
I nodded. My shoes were by the front door so I slipped them on and we took off across the front field. It was a sunny day – at home I would have gone to our neighborhood pool with my friends – or maybe to Nicole’s house. Her parents have a pool in their backyard but we can only go when her mom or dad is there.
I could feel the sun through my t-shirt and it felt good. I never minded getting hot and sweaty in the summer. It’s the cold I don’t like.
We walked through ankle-high grass and then turned right at the pond – or west, as Uncle RW pointed out – I had no idea about the directions – and entered a wooded area. It suddenly felt so much quieter and the heat was replaced by an almost damp coolness. There was a small clearing and I saw that Uncle RW had some targets set up on posts.
He was carrying a long gun over his shoulder. “This is a shotgun.” He looked at me. “Do you know anything at all about guns, Mia? Have you ever shot one or even held one?”
I shook my head no. “You saw my mom’s reaction. My dad didn’t seem interested in hunting or having a gun, so nope.”
“She’s not wrong that guns are dangerous. Got any idea about the second-leading cause of death for kids under 18?”
“Guns?” Not exactly tough to figure out the right answer since that was the topic.
He nodded. “Guns are dangerous. But they’re also a tool. They have their place.”
Our first lesson? Gun safety. “You never, and I can’t say never enough times, you never point a gun at someone or something you don’t want to kill.”
Strong words, but they made sense.
Second lesson? Always assume every gun is already loaded, even if you think it’s not.
“A gun is a lethal weapon and you have to treat it with respect,” he told me.
He explained that he was going to teach me how to shoot a shotgun. “It’s a good weapon for defending your home because your aim doesn’t have to be precise.”
I’d never thought about why it’s called a shotgun. You shoot it right? So that’s the word shot?”
No. It uses “shot.” Not the same kind of bullets as other guns. It has a cartridge filled with “shot” – small pellets. You use buckshot, which is bigger, if you’re hunting deer (buck – get it?) and you use birdshot, which is really tiny, to shoot quail or pheasant.
There are different styles of shotguns but this one is a pump action. You have to pump it so it spits out the used cartridge. And if you don’t pump it hard enough, it won’t fire again.
“What about aiming it?”
“That’s the beauty of a shotgun. You don’t have to have the best aim to hit something.”
I had to learn all of this before Uncle RW even let me hold the gun. It was heavy, heavier than I expected. And the kick when I fired it was much worse than I expected, too.
When we got back to the house, my mom asked if I needed ice for my shoulder.
“Did you think it hurt, too?”
She nodded. “A little.”
Just then we heard a car pull up on the gravel drive. All of us started to run to the door but Uncle RW stopped us. He’s gotten a lot more cautious since those guy hassled Luis.
“Wait here.” He pulled back the curtains on the front window and peered out. We heard a car door slam.
“It’s okay. It’s Laura.”
