by Tabatha Kiss
“Kansas Highway Patrol,” a man answers.
“Yeah, hi. I’m in need of a tow truck. My car stalled on me.”
“What’s your location?”
“I’m heading east on 70,” I say, clearing my throat. “About five miles outside of Clover near the gas station.”
“Clover, eh?” he asks, amused.
“Yeah, unfortunately.”
“Make and model of your vehicle?”
“Uhh…” I chuckle. “It’s a 2002, powder blue… POS.”
He laughs for a moment before turning serious. “Are you traveling alone?”
“Yeah, but I’m safe.”
“Good. Hang tight, ma’am. We’ll send someone out to get you.”
“Thank you.”
I hang up and slide the phone back over. “Thanks again,” I tell the kid.
He nods at me and watches as I turn around to walk back out into the cold.
I rush down the highway, counting the moments until I can get back in my car again. I could have stayed inside but I’d rather risk getting slammed by a speeding truck than stay in that gas station. No offense to the kid, of course. I just have a few memories there I’d rather not relive if I don’t have to.
I climb into my car and lay my head against the steering wheel to rest my eyes. Every few minutes, I peek up to check for incoming cars but the street is vacant and black, save my own headlights illuminating the few feet in front of me.
Finally, a tow truck rolls up beside me and comes to a stop in front of my car. The logo on the side reads Marv’s Auto Repair. The best Clover can offer. I could never tell whether or not that was sarcasm.
I step outside and roll my hands into fists in my pockets, preparing myself just in case this guy is any kind of creep.
The door opens and the driver pops out onto the ground. He looks up at me like I’m a side-dish but the smug smirk instantly falls as he recognizes me.
“Jovie?”
I squint at him in the dark, making out my cousin’s familiar face. “Tucker?”
“Oh, my God! Jovie!” I flinch as he throws his arms around me and squeezes, nearly lifting me several inches off the ground. “What is this? Where the hell have you been? Are you okay?”
I laugh softly and pat his back. I guess it was only a matter of time before the awkward reunions started. I’d hoped to put it off for longer than this, but shit happens, I suppose.
“I’m all right,” I answer the last question.
He leans back and sets me down but keeps a solid grip on my shoulders. “It’s been a long time.”
I nod. “I know.”
“Are you back in town like... back back?
“Uh...” I glance around. “Not sure yet. Just kind of back for now, I guess.”
“Does anyone else know you’re here?”
“No. I haven’t told anybody. I was just going to surprise my dad when my stupid car broke down.”
“So, nobody knows you’re here?”
I shake my head. “Nobody knows.”
“Like...” he steps back, “nobody?”
“Nobody,” I confirm. “And I would really appreciate it if nobody found out yet.”
He throws up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I read you loud and clear, ‘cuz. Nobody knows and nobody shall know. It’s our little secret.”
I wonder how long that’ll last. “Thank you, Tucker.”
He gestures to the car behind me and knocks twice on the open hood. “So, what happens to be the problem here, little lady?”
“No idea,” I say, stepping to the side. “Just kind of went ka-bloom.”
He leans over, withdrawing a flashlight from his pocket and clicks it on as he scans the inside. “Hmm…”
“What?”
“No idea.” He shrugs and releases the hood down. “Well, I’ll go ahead and get you cinched up.”
I stand back and watch as he attaches the hook to my front bumper. “So, you’re a mechanic now?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“And they stiff you with the night shift?”
“Who’s getting stiffed?” he asks. “I love the night shift. I volunteer for it. It’s quiet and chill. Mostly just get truckers but every once in a while, I get the call for a beautiful lady stranded out in the middle of nowhere and sometimes she’s very grateful for my help… if you know what I mean.”
I nod. “I think I cracked your code, Tucker.”
“Of course, I don’t expect that tonight, obviously,” he says, gesturing at me. “In fact, the last thing I expected to find on this road tonight was you, ‘cuz.”
“Same.” I wrap my jacket a little tighter around me to block out the cold breeze.
Tucker slides the car into neutral and nods to his truck. “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride to Uncle Hank’s.”
I climb inside and sit still, silently taking in the view. Tucker turns off the highway and we navigate a tight, empty road for a few miles before passing the welcome sign into Clover, Kansas.
Main Street is dark and empty, as it always was after ten. Local businesses must still close their doors just before eight o’clock, leaving very little — if anything — to do.
Not much has changed since I left, though I’m not sure why I would expect it to. Tucker glances over at me every so often, no doubt plagued with burning questions but I can’t exactly blame him.
He slows to a stop on Ninth Street. “This is as far as I can go in this beast,” he says. “Unless I wanna wake the neighborhood beeping backward to try and get out again.”
“It’s okay,” I say, grabbing my backpack. “I can walk it.”
“Want me to go with you?”
“No, I’ll be all right. It’s Clover, ya know?”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I know. Well, it’s really nice to see you, Jovie.”
“You, too.” I step outside, instantly shivering the second my feet touch the ground. “I’ll stop by the car shop in the morning to fill out paperwork or whatever you guys need.”
“Uh…” He shifts forward in his seat. “You know, don’t bother. I’ll fill it out for you and call you with updates.”
“No, I can do it, Tuck.”
“Well… he works there now.”
“Oh.” I pause. “He does? Really?”
“Yeah, for about two years now.”
I bite my lip. “Okay, then… yeah, you can fill out the forms and stuff for me. That’d be great. Thanks.”
He gives a short wave. “Say hi to Uncle Hank for me.”
“I will.”
I close the door and turn to stare down my old street as the tow truck rides off with my car hanging behind it.
An eerie calmness washes over me. I suppose if we’re talking traditional definitions, this is my home. I grew up on this street, walked down it every day for twelve years to go to school, but I feel very little connection to it otherwise.
I start walking down the block, wrapping my jacket a little tighter around me and cursing whoever it was that invented the skirt in the first place. I’ve almost forgotten how chilly it is here in January. There’s still even a little bit of holiday snow stacked up along the curbs.
And here it is. The house I grew up in. Just me and my dad, for the most part. One story. Two bedrooms. A whole lot of repairs that never quite happened.
I walk up to the door. It’s late and who knows if my father is even awake but it’s not like I have anywhere else to go.
I tap on the door, knocking softly. A few seconds later, a light flicks on in the living room and my chest tightens.
The door swings open and my father gawks at me with a beer can in his hand. Gravity has done hell to the bags under his eyes and there’s more silver than brown in his mustache but otherwise, he’s the same as he ever was. Tobacco stench included.
“Hey, Hank,” I say, forcing a smile.
He looks me up and down. “Jovie.”
I nod. “Yep.”
More wrinkles crease his brow for several long, cold mom
ents. Finally, he turns around without saying anything else and walks off, leaving the door wide open.
I step inside and close it behind me as my dad topples into his armchair across the living room.
The same as it ever was, indeed. The carpet is still that awful shade of dark peach, held over from the eighties, at least. Scratched furniture with layers of dust and the same damn couch that’s been sitting there since I was a kid.
The television blares loudly from the corner with one of those procedural crime shows. I step lightly to the couch and sit down on the edge, tapping my tongue against my teeth.
“What do you want?”
I flinch with the sudden growl of his voice. “I just wanted to ask if I could stay here for a while.”
“How long?”
“I’m not sure,” I say. He glares at me from the corner of his eyes. “Not long. Just need to save up some money and I’ll be out of your hair again.”
His gray eyes flick back to the television. “Rent is three-hundred a month,” he says, taking a swig of his beer. “Or seventy-five a week, whichever works best for you, and you’ll chip in for utilities.”
I dig my thumbnail into my hand. “All right,” I say. “I’ll go into town tomorrow and see about finding a job but I probably won’t get paid for a few weeks. I might need an extension on the first month.”
“You know where the spare key is,” he murmurs.
I stand up. “Thanks… Dad.”
He gives a passive nod. “Real nice to see you,” he says, his tongue hitting every word like an ice pick.
Overall, it’s a far warmer welcome than I expected, so I can’t complain.
I walk out of the living room and enter the hallway, my eyes instantly pausing on the picture frames hung on the wall. Baby pictures of me, mostly. A visual timeline from birth to age three and then nothing after that. My dad wasn’t really interested in keeping up with it, I guess. It must have been Mom’s thing.
I push open the door to my room and flick on the light. Not a damn thing has changed in here either, save the layer of dust on everything from years of forgotten neglect. Travel books and posters of landmarks across the country. Places I always dreamed about. Anywhere but here.
I sit down on the edge of the bed and glance around, silently reminding myself that it was all my idea to come back.
“Home sweet home,” I whisper to myself.
Two
Jovie
You ever have that dream where you’re walking down the street and everyone is staring at you?
They start to laugh as you pass by, subtly at first, but it gets faster and louder until you finally look down and realize that you’re naked.
Yeah, it’s kind of like that.
Except I’m not asleep and I’ve checked three times already to make sure I put on pants before I left Hank’s house.
No, they’re just staring at me because that’s what people do when your name is Jovie Ross.
It starts on my street with Mrs. Clark, the pastor’s wife. Her dog barks at me from the porch as I walk by her house. She steps outside, takes one look at me, and bolts right back in, dragging her dog by the collar as she goes.
I should see this for the omen it is but I keep on walking like an idiot, quickly happening by several other neighbors who more or less do the exact same thing. Some just stare. Slightly fewer wave. One literally clutches the pearls around her neck.
It’s nice to be remembered, I suppose.
I hit the town square and walk down Main Street until I reach Trin’s Toy Store on the corner, sandwiched between the bookstore and a coffee shop that wasn’t there when I left. There’s a ‘HELP WANTED’ sign displayed in the window. My lips curl at the small victory. At least I know he’s hiring.
But is he willing to hire me again?
Only one way to find out.
I pull open the door and the entry bell rings above my head.
“Welcome!” I hear from the check-out counter to the right.
I catch sight of Mr. Trin himself standing behind it. He doesn’t look up from the small stack of paperwork in front of him, displaying his shiny, bald head to the world.
I snatch the ‘HELP WANTED’ sign from the window and walk straight toward him, taking wide, purposeful strides until I can lay the sign down in his eye-line.
He peeks up at me over the rims of his glasses and his brow furrows.
“Absolutely not,” he says.
“Hi, Mr. Trin.” I deepen my smile. “It’s good to see you!”
“No.”
“I would like to talk to you about a jo—”
“No.”
I tilt my head. “Please?”
“The position is for serious applicants only, Jovie.”
“I am a serious applicant, Mr. Trin.”
“Serious applicants include those with perfect work histories,” he argues. “Not girls who stop showing up without notice.”
“I know,” I say, leaning forward. “I was going through something at the time — and I’m really sorry — but that’s all over now…”
“You left me in a lurch.”
I hold my hands in prayer between us. “I did and I felt really badly about that.”
“It took forever to find a decent smock girl again,” he continues. “Then, she left to go have some schmuck’s babies in Topeka.”
“Well,” I feign a laugh, “I can assure you that I won’t be doing that anytime soon. Or ever. Most likely never. I don’t even know anyone from Topeka.”
“I’m from Topeka.”
I inhale a sharp breath and let out an awkward chuckle. “Okay, I don’t think Mrs. Trin would like me cracking a joke about having your babies, so I’m just gonna let that one slide…”
His head shakes. “I’m sorry, Jovie, but I already have interviews scheduled for today.”
“Cancel them.” He glares at me as he steps around the counter with his papers in hand. “I worked here for over three years. You barely have to even train me. Think of the time save, Mr. Trin. I know how much you value time save.”
He wanders across the shop toward the office in the back. “The other girls have good resumes,” he says, raising the papers above his head.
I follow one step behind him. “Yeah? Well, will the other girls arrange the dinosaur figures alphabetically by species?”
“No, they’ll arrange them by size and color the way they’re supposed to.”
“Oh...” I pass with him through the doorway. “That’s not very educational.”
“Hey, hey—” He points over my shoulder at the ‘Employees Only’ sign glued to the door.
I step back but stay in the frame. “You know, I hung this sign,” I say, rapping my knuckle against it.
“I know.” Trin collapses into his desk chair. “It fell off twice.”
“Come on, Mr. Trin.” I sigh. “I’m falling on my sword here.”
He wavers, flexing his jawline and squinting at me. “I don’t know—”
“Please,” I beg. “You can start me at minimum wage. I don’t care. My availability is wide open. Days, weekends, holidays. You name it, I’ll be here. I can start today — right now, if you need it. Just… please.”
Trin rubs his shiny head. “Fine,” he spits. “Seven twenty-five an hour. Ten to close every day with an hour lunch.”
I raise a brow. “Seven twenty-five? Is that really what minimum wage is now?”
He glares. “Is that a problem?”
“No, sir,” I say quickly. “Not at all.”
“We can talk about raising that if you last six months,” he adds.
I fill my lungs with relief. “Thank you. That’s perfect. Really. Thank you.”
He points over my shoulder. “Grab a smock from the back. I assume you remember where they are?”
“I do.” I spin in a half circle but double back slowly. “So, now that I’m hired… can we discuss a possible fifty dollar advance on my first paycheck?”
His stern
face twitches.
I surrender my hands and back out of the office. “You’re right. Never mind. No problem. Sorry I asked.”
“Jovie…”
I poke my head back in. “Yeah, boss?”
Trin stands up and reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. “You can start tomorrow morning,” he says, fishing it open. “I want you here at ten sharp. There are a few things that have changed since you left so we’ll need to go over those.”
I nod, trying not to stare at his hands. “I’ll be here.”
He grabs a folder off the desk, paper-clips a fifty dollar bill to the W-2 form inside, and offers it to me. “Fill these out before you come in.”
I take it from him, once again feeling warm relief fill my chest. “Thank you, Mr. Trin,” I say.
He pats my shoulder as he passes back onto the shop floor. “Welcome home, kid.”
My smile deepens. I’d forgotten that he used to call me that. It’s strange how it all comes back. Not just the physical details of a life once lived but the emotions that came with it. I really do feel like shit for leaving Mr. Trin in a bind the way I did. He was one of two people in this town who pretended to give a crap about me, after all.
The second person? Well…
That story is much longer.
And it hurts twice as much.
Three
Will
“You’re all set, Mrs. Clark,” I say, setting her keys on the counter between us.
She grabs them with an old, wrinkled hand and grins at me. “Thank you, William. Have I mentioned that you’re my favorite grease monkey?”
“Only every time you come in here.”
“Oh, good! Because you are.”
I smile. “Thank you. Remember what I told you about riding your brakes, all right?”
She leans in. “Remind me again...”
“Don’t.”
“Oh, that’s right! I’ll try and remember that, dear.” She turns to leave but pauses with her hand on the counter. “William, you’re still single, right?”
“Uhh... yes,” I answer slowly.
Her eyes twinkle. “Have you met my granddaughter, Lillian? I think you’d like her...”
