Under the Fireworks
written by: Phyllis Souza
It’s the Fourth of July. After dark, the fireworks will drown out everything—Camille is counting on that.
She’s alone. The apartment feels too quiet, too big. Antonio left, saying she was ‘too much work’ and that he wanted someone easygoing.
A small knife rests in her pocket. Camille inhales, stares at herself in the mirror—then her dead mother’s voice cuts in.
“Don’t.”
“Why do you always have to say ‘don’t’?” Camille answers. She turns, pauses, then walks away.
Antonio will be at the park. He never misses the band, the beer, or the first boom that makes the kids squeal.
He also loves plump green grapes. She remembers how he fed her one grape at a time as she lay with her mouth open and her eyes closed, telling her how much he loved her.
Dusk slides in. Her throat tightens. If she doesn’t leave now, she won’t leave at all—so she steps out and heads toward the park.
***
Camille watches from the edge of the crowd, half hidden behind a family’s folding chairs.
Antonio’s eyes snag on a young woman on a blanket—short shorts, long legs, red toenails. She leans back on straight arms, her chest lifted, as if she knows exactly who’s watching.
The light thins. Smoke from the first fireworks drifts low.
Kids tear across the grass, waving flags. The band thumps from the stage.
Camille spots Antonio—shaved head, tank top, tattoos shifting as he shows off for two women on a blanket. They whisper, then burst out laughing and turn away.
He takes a long pull from his Bud Light, then digs into a small ice chest. Grapes. He pops one in, the peel catching on his mustache like a green comma.
Antonio grins at the woman anyway, the strip of peel still sticking out above his lip.
***
Near the stage, a banner bearing the band’s name flaps. Camille squints—there, behind the mic stand: Johnny Garcia. Still pretty. Still that grin from sophomore year.
She moves toward the maple tree by the stage, as if she belongs there.
Johnny’s eyes lock onto hers. His brows lift—recognition. He leans into the mic and gestures for her to join him.
“You still sing?”
She grips the microphone. Her voice wavers on free, then steadies. The brave fireworks crack open the sky.
Antonio looks up as rockets blaze overhead. Again, Camille hears her mother’s voice.
“Don’t.”
Camille’s fingers shake. The knife rests heavily and inappropriately against her thigh.
People start folding blankets and gathering coolers. She lets her hand fall from her pocket.
Behind her, Antonio laughs—easy and careless—and she keeps walking.
Camille steps into the dark with empty hands, and for the first time all night, she feels the tiniest bit of room to breathe.
- Under the Fireworks - July 4, 2026
- Rock-a-Bye Curse - June 12, 2026
- Beer and Stone - March 17, 2026
