[Flash fiction] If you won’t fix it, I will

My second short piece for Flash June 2026

They found my car in West Oakland stripped to its bones. The thieves had parallel-parked it between a graffitied school bus and a camper van with dirty curtains shrouding its windows, then ripped away seats, steering wheel, wheels, and innards.

Five days later, though, Eugene is still missing. Now I’m sitting in a scratchy vinyl chair at police headquarters repeating facts I already shared last week.

“So he’s your nephew,” Officer Marcos states for the third time since he sat down. I wonder if he has a short-term memory problem, unfortunate for his profession.

“Yes, but I’m like a second mother.” My sister Clara, his real mother, wouldn’t agree with this assessment.

“And he’s from…?”

“Nassau Bay, Texas. Where they launch the space shuttle.” He scrunches his forehead in confusion. “He lives there, with my sister and my niece Ella. I visit three times a year.”

Marcos frowns at his notebook. “And he’s here because…?”

“I explained this to the police last week. Isn’t it in the record?”

He crosses his arms. “Tell me one more time.”

“Eugene knocked on my door three weeks ago. ‘Surprise, Aunt CeeCee! I’m here for a visit.’ Out of the blue. He caught a ride up here, split the gas money.”

“Mrs. Farrow…”

“Mizz. Never married.”

“What has he done since he arrived?”

“I’m helping him look for a job. He interviewed at Whole Foods. We went sightseeing, walked the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“He planned to stay? Not just visit?”

“I called Clara after he crashed on my sofabed the first night. She told me since graduating from high school he’s gotten involved with some unsavory people. Said he was going to California for a fresh start.”

Officer Marcos closes his notebook with a flourish. “Has his mother heard from him?”

“They aren’t speaking. She said she’s washing her hands of him. Typical Clara. So self-absorbed since her divorce. I told her, ‘If you won’t fix this, I will.’”

“I’m sorry to tell you,” Marcos says like he means it, “there’s a good chance your nephew is holed up in a heroin den someplace in the city.”

My mouth drops open. “Why would you say that?”

“A small-town Texas boy with an ‘unsavory’ past shows up in Oakland with no plans—you really think he plans to work at Whole Foods? This city is a carnival for wayward addicts.”

“He’s not wayward. Just…misguided. He’s getting back on track.”

“He stole your car and probably sold it or traded it for drugs. We can keep an eye out for him, but he doesn’t qualify as a missing person. He’ll resurface when he runs out of money. I suggest you plan what to do when he does.”

Out on the street, I slip into the rental car I’ll be driving for the next several weeks. I should call Clara and tell her Eugene’s missing, but he came to me for help.

I deserve a chance to fix this without anyone else meddling. I won’t let Eugene down.