by David Lovato
“Fuck, I really don’t want to work tonight.” Jordan sighed. A calm, warm breeze wafted over him and his friends. It felt good against their bare skin.
“Then don’t,” Aiden said. He found that rather funny, as he found just about everything he said. His laugh was infectious, and Jordan followed it.
“You know, Aiden, that idea’s not half bad,” he said.
“Hey, you know me,” Aiden said. “Just lending my helping hand.” He raised his eyebrow, still grinning.
Jordan frowned and said, “I don’t want your helping hand anywhere near me.”
“Ew!” Ashley said. “That’s nasty!”
Drew laughed loudly, and that got Aiden going again. Ashley didn’t find it as amusing; she just returned to her meal and shook her head.
“What time you gotta be there?” Drew leaned his chair back, gripping the table with one hand to keep his balance.
“It’s a four to ten shift. My favorite.” Jordan rolled his eyes.
“That blows,” Aiden said. “At least you got to chill with your best buds first, and… Ashley.” He laughed.
“Hey!” Ashley said, but was mostly drowned out when Drew added his laughter to Aiden’s. Jordan laughed as well, but it was forced. He was all for laughing it up with his buddies, but when it came to Ashley, it was different. He looked at Ashley and smiled, and she smiled back.
****
The grandfather clock chimed through the house. It was just loud enough that Jordan heard it over his music as he cherished the few lingering minutes before he had to get ready for his shift at the Ferrington, Where quality products and customer service come together!
That motto had been beaten into the employees’ heads, but Jordan didn’t really care one way or another about it. It was only a job. He planned on being something more than a grocery store slave one day.
When the song was over, Jordan took his ear buds out and went to get ready for work.
He decided to wear his white dress shirt. Overlaying that was a red and white striped tie. Jordan styled his hair, brushed his teeth, and gathered everything he needed from the nightstand before heading for the bedroom door.
Jordan’s mother was in the kitchen making dinner. She had the television up with the Food Network on.
Jordan twirled his keys by the ring and said, “What are you making for dinner, Mom?”
“Meatloaf tonight, hon. What time do you get off?” She turned around and headed into the living room. A strong, pleasant smell wafted from the oven.
“Ten.”
“Well, I’ll make sure we save you some. I know how much you like my meatloaf.”
Jordan smiled. “The dinner of champions!”
“Anything with meat in it is ‘the dinner of champions.’” She laughed.
“Very true.” Jordan popped his neck.
“How can you do that?”
“Just can. It feels good to me. Relieves stiffness.”
“Hey, don’t forget to take those bottles, and don’t break them on your way there.” Jordan’s mother took a seat on the couch as Jordan went for the bottles. There were three of them sitting in a row on the table. Jordan collected them by their handles, and they clanged softly when they bumped into each other.
“Have a good day at work. Love you!”
“Heh, yeah,” Jordan said. “I’ll try.”
I can’t wait for some of that meatloaf, Jordan thought as he left the house and made for the car. It was parked on the curb, as usual. He opened the passenger door and set the bottles on the floorboard. They clanged against each other as if in protest of being returned. When Jordan sat down in the driver’s seat, his phone emitted a polyphonic sample of a Taking Back Sunday song. He took the phone out and smiled at the sight of a text from Ashley.
I’m going to the store later tonight. See you there… you should check me out too. I’ll wait in your line all night if I have to.
Jordan was about to respond when the phone buzzed and played the tone again. The message this time was a winking face. He pressed the button to reply.
Sounds good! See ya later.
Jordan put the phone on silent and slipped it back into his pocket. The keys jingled as he lifted them to the ignition. Jordan took a pair of shades from a dashboard cubby and slipped them on.
Pretty soon, Jordan turned onto the main road where the Ferrington waited. As he cruised along, he took a lazy glance at the front of the building. Big curvy green letters displayed the name of the store against the sand-colored bricks. On the far left side were smaller green letters spelling out PHARMACY, and on the other end the wall read FOOD. Two electric-eye doors marked each main entrance. While pulling up to the south side of the parking lot, Jordan watched as customers casually entered the north and south doors of the store.
Jordan yielded to a person who was getting a running start to ride their cart down the lane of cars. Afterward, he turned into the employee parking lot, found a spot close to the front, and parked his car. He grabbed the milk bottles, locked the doors, and headed toward the side entrance, near the drive-up lane.
Jordan passed an elderly woman on the way to the service counter. She waved, her face lit up with a smile, and she mouthed the word hi. Jordan gave a little wave and smile in return. The store director passed briskly by Jordan. His name tag flashed under the bright store lighting. It read JOHN, and in smaller print was his last name, Kensington. John didn’t acknowledge Jordan as Jordan approached the counter.
“Jordan,” the young woman at the counter, Erin Baker, said in a lively voice. “How are you doing?”
“Not bad, I guess.” He put the bottles on the counter. “Just got some bottles to return before I work today.”
“Boy, you sure drink this stuff like there’s no tomorrow,” Erin said with a smirk on her face. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.
“Yep!” Jordan felt a hint of blood rushing to his cheeks. Erin pulled the bottles closer to her and poked at the nearby screen. The beeps the register emitted were like daggers piercing Jordan’s temples. Those incessant beeps often induced headaches during his shifts at the Ferrington.
“Here’s $4.50 for the bottles.” Erin held out the cash, a bright smile on her face, and Jordan took it. He thanked her, then headed toward the stairs to the offices.
Upstairs the hall was just as brightly lit. Not even the tiniest shadow entered the Ferrington, and every box of cereal, every can of soup, every banana was brightly illuminated. This was another contributor to Jordan’s common headaches.
Jordan slid his shades off and bent down so he could access his cubby. He opened the beaten-up metal door labeled 25, set the glasses inside, and closed the cubby before heading over to the time clock. Near that was the office of the assistant store director. From inside the room, Jordan could hear the slow whirring of a printer. As he punched in, the front-end manager’s voice boomed from the intercom.
“Ed Malone, check please. Ed, check.”
Jordan made sure he had everything in order, then took the steps down into the bustling grocery store, hoping for a nice, steady, painless-as-possible night.
4
At the Carnival
“Max, don’t fall behind!” Andrew, Max’s dad, said.
Max hadn’t noticed his family was several yards ahead of him. He had been focused on the scale of the carnival. It didn’t come to town often, but when it did, it was a family adventure.
Max felt that at sixteen years, he was getting to be a little old for carnivals. The once-massive Ferris wheel was now meagerly sized, the clowns no longer amusing, the cotton candy now just colored strings of sugar. He could only begin to imagine how August, his sister of eighteen, felt. Still, family was family, and his had always stressed togetherness.
Max jogged to catch up with the others: His mother, Margaret, and his two younger siblings, Tim and Julie. Even though Julie was ten years old and Tim was eight, both required constant supervision, according to Max’s parents.
&n
bsp; In actuality, they didn’t. None of the children did. They never wandered off and never got into trouble. Still, togetherness. Everyone watched out for each other.
The family proceeded through the line together, Andrew bought all of their tickets together, they passed through the turnstiles in a single-file line and then regrouped on the other side together.
The carnival grounds were teeming with excited people, all contained within the same fenced area, waiting in long lines for their brief moments as the lucky ones who were actually on the rides before being let off and sent to wait in other lines.
The sun was setting, which would give way to what Max had always been excited for, and remained so despite his age: the lights. There were seemingly millions of lights, all twinkling and, when on certain rides, spinning around as though they made up the edges of the world. They were small, about the size of Christmas lights (Max thought they probably were Christmas lights) and they certainly didn’t help anyone make their way around the carnival grounds after dark, but they were beautiful. Besides that, Max didn’t need illumination to help him get around; for that he had a family of five constantly at his side.
“Well,” August said, “let’s get this over with.”
Her attitude really irked Max, at times. This was not one of them, as he agreed with her, though he thought she could’ve been nicer about it. But that was how August was; she didn’t see being nice as her job. It bothered Max because his siblings were the only people he was ever able to spend time with. Who needs to have friends over? You have three siblings right here, Maxy.
If it had ever actually come out that way, Max couldn’t remember, but it wouldn’t surprise him. He didn’t feel any great sense of blame or resentment toward his parents; they were only doing what they thought was right. They had always played the role of protectors, as if society was so dangerous any of the kids could be picked off and eaten alive at any moment. Max’s not-quite-friends all seemed okay without any similar family setting, so he didn’t understand why his required it.
In any case, this night was not going to be the night to change the family tradition. Max tried to focus on the carnival. On the horizon, the sun was just a faint sliver of orange, and soon would be entirely gone.
5
On a Lonely Road
Ben Hopper was driving down a long stretch of road on a cool day. His wife, Charlotte, sat in the passenger seat, and with lunch with the in-laws a good half hour behind them, Ben finally felt safe enough to say something.
“Well, I feel like I’ve had my fill for a good thirty years.”
“Ben, don’t be ridiculous. Respect earns respect. You would enjoy being around them more if you’d put out the effort.”
“I try, but God, I don’t know what it would take to get on their good side. You know, it’s mostly your father. He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you, but sometimes you just come off a bit—”
“A bit what?” Ben said. “You know what? Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want to argue.” After a moment of silence he reached over the console and took Charlotte’s hand. “I’ll keep trying to get along with them. Something’s gotta give sometime.”
“I love you,” Charlotte said. “Thanks.”
Ben’s phone jingled. His job as a freelance artist entailed all types of things, and answering his phone twenty times a day was, sadly, one of them.
“Do you really have to take that?” Charlotte asked.
“It’s just a text, Char, it’s fine.”
“That’s even worse!”
“I’ll be quick. Jeremy gets mad when I don’t respond right away.”
“Jeremy’s an asshole.”
“There you go. Does that sound familiar? If you’d be nice, you’d get along.”
“Just text the man back!” Charlotte said. She shook her head and her red locks danced around.
Before Ben could send a reply, Jeremy sent a follow-up message. Ben glanced at the road ahead, then returned to his phone and began a reply.
Look Jeremy. Im driving. Okay? And
“Ben! Look out!” Charlotte said. The car was edging off of the road. Ben yanked the wheel in the other direction, then noticed the turn just ahead. The car moved wildly across the road, ripped into a ditch, and flipped in the air after it rifled up the far side.
Ben and Charlotte shot forward, kept in place by their seatbelts. As the car plummeted into the woods, Ben saw the ground coming closer. His throat felt like it was closing up. Less than ten seconds had passed since Charlotte’s scream, but to Ben it all felt like a matter of minutes as his world continued spinning. The Jeep barrel-rolled a few times before coming to a complete stop, upside-down, in the woods.
****
Charlotte had no idea how much time passed before she woke up. First she moaned, then she realized what had happened. She unbuckled her seatbelt and braced for the following short drop. When she sat up she checked for broken bones, but only had some scrapes and cuts. Charlotte tried to get Ben unbuckled, but it was tricky. She had to get on her knees and reach up and around his arms. Broken glass littered the roof (now the floor) of the car, and the small shards of what had once been windows sliced into her skin as she worked to free Ben from his seat. When she finally got him loose, she lowered him to a sitting position against the wrinkled door. Ben had a large cut on his chest and a smaller one on his head. Blood was running down his face. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t broken any bones.
“Ben,” Charlotte said. She wasn’t sure she should try to wake him, but she didn’t know what else to do. “Ben!”
Ben opened his eyes. He sniffed a few times, his nose began to bleed, and then he noticed Charlotte.
“Wh-what’s going on here? Where am I?”
“Ben, I’m so glad you’re all right!” Charlotte hugged him gently. He cringed and pushed her away.
“What is—who are you?”
Charlotte’s lower lip trembled. She sat back, looking at him, eyes as big as dinner platters.
“Ben, you’ve got to be joking. It’s me, Charlotte! Your wife! Married for—”
“Whoa, wait, we’re married?” Ben looked around. “How did this happen?”
“What do you mean, ‘how did this happen?’ We got married in a church—”
“I know how marriages happen, I’m talking about this,” Ben said. He gestured to the twisted metal cage around them. “How did this happen?”
“You were driving. And texting. We started to go off the road, and you tried to put us back on it, but we went off the other side. You… don’t remember any of this?”
“No. And I don’t remember you, or any marriage. But I faintly remember having lunch with some very irritating people.”
“Oh my God! Those were my parents! We saw them today! Maybe that will spark your mind. Do you remember anything else?”
“No, nothing else.” Ben sighed and looked at Charlotte. It was as if he was trying so hard to remember, but his mind was just too cloudy.
“I can’t believe this,” Charlotte said.
“I’m sorry…” Ben sat there trying to recover a name to call her by, but it was no good.
“Charlotte!” she said, and then began to cry.
“Right.” Ben looked away. “Well, we should probably try to get to a hospital. It’ll be dark soon, and I really don’t want to have to walk in the dark. Maybe we’ll find a place to stay until morning.” Ben started to climb out through the busted window, and Charlotte followed. It was a painful process, but they made it out. After a short and unsuccessful attempt to find either of their cell phones, the two walked up the hill and then set out along the shoulder of the road.
They walked in silence for almost an hour. Charlotte thought about what they would do if Ben never remembered her or their marriage, or any of the important things in their lives. Would she leave him? Would he leave her? She hoped not. Charlotte felt like she was dreaming, and she wanted to wake up.
The two
finally came across a sign, slightly faded, but still legible. It read:
Blackwater Falls
One mile
“Wow, kind of a creepy name for a town. Don’t you think, Charlotte?”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
“Well, I’m sure they have a motel or something. In the morning we can get the hell out of Dodge.”
“We need to make sure you don’t need stitches.” Charlotte pointed to the blood soaking Ben’s shirt.
“I don’t,” he said. “It’s just a scratch.” He smirked.
“You don’t need stitches, my left boob! You’re just the same as before the accident!”
“I must have banged my head pretty damn hard to forget a pretty face like yours,” Ben said. Charlotte smiled, then looked at the ground.
Soon Ben and Charlotte arrived at the small town of Blackwater Falls. The road they had been on crossed another, and just as the light changed, a man in a worn pickup truck stopped to let them cross. His expression was at first a happy and friendly one, but quickly changed when he saw the injured couple.
“My word! What happened to you both?” The old man in the pickup pulled his pipe away from his lips and held it tightly in wrinkled fingers, blowing a cloud of smoke into the passenger seat.
“We flipped our car,” Charlotte said.
“Well, come with me. I’ll take you to the doctor. He’s great, you know. Will you let me help you?”
“Of course! We can’t thank you enough.” Charlotte smiled, and she and Ben climbed into the seat next to the man as soon as he opened the door for them. As he pulled the gearshift down to drive, he took a puff of his pipe and blew another smoke cloud, out the window this time. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are, sir!” Charlotte said.
“It’s nothing, Mrs.…”
“Hopper. Oh, but you can call me Charlotte.”
