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We’ll Make Headlines

The sky was still dark out. Mary-Anne’s clothing was wrinkled and frumpy. Her hair was pulled into a mess ponytail, and had been neglected with brushing. She stood outside Mayor Wilkins’ office, wringing her hands, gathering the courage to knock. She wondered what it was for, and a small prick of fear hit her when she thought it was about Allan. She could see him unconscious in a hospital bed. It frightened her.

Mary-Anne shook it off, trying to think it was just Mayor Wilkins wanting her to drive Allan home. That was probably it. Allan rarely drove; he was such a nervous man. Jumpy. Too jumpy to sit behind the wheel of a car, even in Sunnydale. So Mary-Anne drove, and rarely too. Never on the highway, she was a jumpy woman.

Though she and Allan were perfect for each other, never mind the nervousness and constant bit of fear they shared. He was such a sweet man. And when they were together he always smiled.

Mary-Anne smiled, pausing in her hand wringing. She was so lucky to have a man like Allan. She was even fear-free about the wedding; which the Mayor will personally be at. Front row on Allan’s side.


Allan and Mary-Anne met four years ago at the Bronze. She was new in Sunnydale, and her roomie, a native, forced her to get to know people the easy way. Mary-Anne had transferred to from UCLA to UCS to be with her ailing grandmother. She was a junior, majoring in Psychology and Biology.

Allan had already been out of collage for a few years, with a degree in Political Science and Humanities. His older brother had dragged him from working in the Mayor’s office for one night. He had looked out of place in his nice work suit, and stiff and nervous posture.

She was laid back in a pair of black pants and a red tank top. She offered to buy him a drink.

“I’m Mary-Anne, by the way,” she said as he fumbled with the bottle of water. She held her Coke confidently, in a sort of surprising way. She was shaking on the inside.

“A-Allan.” Mary-Anne smiled and pressed her back against the cool bar.

So…” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the loud music. “Do you go to UC Sunnydale?”

“No,” he answered, his voice still wavering. “I did, three years ago. But I graduated.”

“Oh.” They continued to talk, enjoying each other’s company until Allan deemed it late enough to leave. They said good-bye, but didn’t exchange phone numbers.

Several weeks later they met again and-


Mary-Anne burst out of memory at the sound of her shaking hand knocking on the wood door. She willed herself to take in a deep breath, and waited for the Mayor’s answer.

“Come in,” the Mayor called, his voice void of the usual cheeriness. Mary-Anne turned the cold doorknob, and opened the door to revile two sober-faced men. The Mayor was sitting in his desk, his hands in his pocket. Off to the side was a smartly dressed black man. He kept his eyes down and his hands clasped.

“Sit down, Mrs. Finch,” the Mayor said, motioning to a chair in front of his desk.

“Brewer,” Mary-Anne said, sitting down uneasily.

“Pardon?” Mary-Anne clasped her hands together and dared to look at the Mayor.

“My last name is Brewer. Allan and I haven’t married yet.” Allan had only proposed to her a few months prior, at dinner.

It was Mary-Anne’s birthday dinner, and the Mayor had graciously given Allan the night off. Allan took Mary-Anne to a Thai restaurant where they sat in the dimmed light sipping wine and smiling at each other.

After dinner, when they were full and laughing like teenagers, Allan kneeled on the wet asphalt.

“Mary-Anne Brewer. Will you be my wife?” Mary-Anne collapsed into Allan’s arms, crying. Trying to get the words to come out. But Allan knew, he could tell by the look in her eyes.

It was sappy, and she loved every minute of it.

“Miss Brewer?” Mary-Anne’s head snapped up and she blushed.

“I’m sorry…” They sat in silence. The Mayor looked like he was having some self-turmoil. And Mary-Anne began playing memories of her and Allan to ease her nervousness, all while wondering what the man was doing.

She thought of their first date- a disaster. They were almost killed by a gang on PCP. But, oddly enough, Mary-Anne called back a few days later, asking for another try.

Two years later, Mary-Anne was moving into Allan’s small, cozy house. And the supposed celebration at the Bronze, which ended in terror. The Bronze was held up by another gang on PCP. But some girl from a rival gang came and kicked the leader’s ass. It still confused Mary-Anne.

Later on in the year, when the town had an out-break of the flu, Allan became Deputy Mayor. While Mary-Anne got the flu. They celebrated over Jell-O and ginger ale in Mary-Anne’s hospital room. The Mayor came by to congratulate Allan again, and see how Mary-Anne was feeling.

Allan and Mary-Anne had it all worked out.


“Miss Brewer. There’s no right was to say this…”

“What?” Mary-Anne asked, wringing her hands. “You’re not able to come to the wedding? Does Allan know? Where is he anyway?” The Mayor sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“Miss Brewer… There’s been an accident.”

“Oh, god.” Mary-Anne had to take deep controlled breaths. “Is he alright? Is he in the hospital? What do you have him doing?!”

“No, Miss Brewer, he’s not alright-” Mary-Anne stood in a flash of sudden anger. She glared her best at the Mayor.

“What in God’s name do you have Allan doing?! He’s too sweet of a man to do violent work! What give you the right?”

“I haven’t!” cried the Mayor, holding his hands up, looking stricken. “I have no idea-”
“Well get an idea!” Mary-Anne shouted, stomping her foot. “No what room is he in? Why didn’t someone call me?” He voice began to raise an octave. She was frightened beyond belief.

“Miss Brewer- Allan’s dead.” The room fell deathly still and silent. Mary-Anne was frozen in place.

“W-what?”

“Allan was brutally stabbed, then dumped. He’s gone. I’m-I’m sorry.” Mary-Anne choked on her words, her air, her memories. She couldn’t stand, or sit. Everything she’d ever had was burning down around her.

“God, God.” She could feel her weight sinking down the floor. The Mayor’s warm hands trying to keep her up.

The room was spinning. All the colors and shapes molded into one. One swirling mass of everything and nothing, tearing at her heart. She couldn’t stand it. Who would ever want to hurt him? Was it for the Mayor? God, what sort of enemies did the Mayor have?

All the swirling thoughts and grief turned into red-hot tears choking Mary-Anne. She could feel them burning her eyes, spilling over onto her cheeks.

The Mayor was holding her up. And, as if she wasn’t really in her body, she could feel her self twisting and kicking. Her hands and blunt nails tore at the kind, somber hands. She didn’t need them. She needed Allan.

But he’s dead…

“God, God!” She choked out, throwing her head back. Her sobs were clipped hiccups. And it seemed like her whole body was trashing with each jolt. “Let go! God, God.” She needed to get away. All this kindness and concern was burning her skin.

She needed Allan.

“Please, Miss Brewer. I know, I know. Miss Brewer…”

“NO I WON’T!!! God, Allan. Please Allan. He can’t be. No one could-” She let out a sob. “Oho Gooood. God please. God, God, God!” She tried pushing Mayor Wilkins’ hands away from her. “Don’t touch me. I need him. I ne-eh-d Allan. Why are you doing this to me?

“God, why! Why? God. Noo. No, no, no. I ne-he-d him. Ga-aw-d. Why did you do this to me?!”


It was early evening, and the sun was setting. The grass beneath Mary-Anne’s feet was bright green. She only knew this because she couldn’t advert her eyes from the ground.

I've seen what you have made in all it's beauty.
What I cannot create I recognize.

The priest in front of her droned on about heaven and hell; how Allan was to young to go. The Mayor even got up and said a few words, but Mary-Anne was too intent on the grass to notice.

Let's watch the night explode, just hold onto me.
I'll whisper you this truth uncompromising

“Miss Brewer? Mary-Anne?” Mary-Anne looked up into the Mayor’s kind eyes. She squinted through the sun’s last dieing rays. “Would you like…?” He motioned to the handsome wood podium. Mary-Anne stood slowly, and made her way behind the podium.

“Um. Well.” She tugged at her hair.

Wait for a heart that never lies,
But not this time.
Watch those explosions in the sky and you'll go blind,
But not this time.it.

“I. I loved Allan.” She could feel the angry tears welding up in her eyes. But Mary-Anne continued talking. She needed to. Maybe it’ll sooth the wound a little bit. Help her move forward.

She sighed. Took a deep breath, and tried to give Allan the words he deserved.

Have you seen what I've made beneath the wreckage?
Just suffer through the dust and there you'll find

She recounted the first time they met. She managed to keep her tears down, and her voice sort of steady. She spoke slowly, deliberately. Annunciating every word, so that everyone would know everything she said. She told of their first few dates. Disasters, she said, giving a weak little laugh.

“But that first kiss…” She swallowed a sob, and held onto the podium. “I thought it meant everything. I thought we were going to be together forever.” Mary-Anne composed herself. “But forever is only as long as God wants.”

The color of a night that burned out from us.
Surrounded by it's glow our city lies.

Mary-Anne stepped down from the podium, and walked away. From everything. She didn’t care who killed Allan. She just wanted to forget. He was dead, now. Nothing mattered.

She told him once that they would make headlines with their love. She never thought it would be this time.

Wait for a love that never dies and you've lost life.
One overdoes just to survive.
We'll shine this time.
We'll make headlines