Slim to None

by A. H. Shelton

  My mama said not one word while all this was going on. I could picture her sitting there looking down at her lap, as she always did when my daddy was on one of his tirades. She always sat there, wringing her hands and nodding, agreeing that every cruel and heartless thing he said about her was true.

  I will never know if Mama cried that night after he left the room, but I dunno how she could have not, after bein’ hit by a bus-load of cruel comments like that.

  Myself, I cried like a baby. I bawled until I felt as if I would throw up from the bushels full of tears being ripped upward from my soul. I cried until there was not one more tear left in me…not because my daddy was leaving, and my parents were getting a divorce, but because Daddy broke my mama’s heart and killed her spirit, just as surely as if he’d stabbed her with a knife – words rip through your heart more effectively than the sharpest of swords, and they never, ever heal.

  The next day as I watched my daddy gather his suitcases and prepare to go, I felt nothing. No, that’s not quite true…I felt joy – elation, that this man whom I didn’t even know anymore, and didn’t want to, could never hurt Mama or me again.

  So, when I tell you that it makes my blood boil that my daddy is judging my weight and my looks, I mean it sends me into a rage that nothing has ever compared to in my twenty-five years on this earth. How dare he? How effin’ dare, he?

  As I pick up the phone and dial, I am shaking with fury and wiping the tears that cascade down my face.

  “Hey, Mama? I’ll be over in a little while. And Ma…if I haven’t told you lately, you’re the best mama anyone could ever ask for. I’m so proud of you. Love you, too. Bye.”

  I watched you working out at the gym tonight. I was outside looking in, of course, but I couldn’t take my eyes off you.

  The way your tanned body shimmers and glistens in the glow of the fluorescent lights above, gives you the surreal appearance of the sands across the Sahara, and I would trek for miles and miles just to quench my thirst at your oasis…

  After dinner, Mama and I decide to go and catch a movie at the Grand Theatre just around the block from her house. The theatre has been around for ages, and it’s claim-to-fame is showing older films – 70’s and 80’s stuff, which is another thing Mama and I have in common. I grew up watching these movies with her, we bonded over the romantic ones, munching on popcorn and dabbing our eyes during the sad parts.

  Tonight, they’re playing Sixteen Candles, which is one of my absolute favorites. I love how the virtually invisible girl gets the gorgeous guy in the end. As I watch it, I sigh intermittently, as I dream of this same thing happening between me and my crush, Lukas Crawford.

  Lukas and I went through school together, and I worshipped him from afar since sixth grade. Before then I was in my tomboy stage, and really didn’t notice boys except to trade Matchbox cars with them or have spitball shooting contests in class behind the teacher’s back…yeah, it was that bad.

  I can remember when he’d walk to my house, barefoot and bib-overalls with no shirt, asking if I wanted to go bike riding, which naturally I did. He was cute as a button back then, so it makes me wonder how the heck I didn’t see him the way I do now…must’ve been hormones kicking in – and man, did they kick hard, like a new pair of Durango’s.

  So, as the movie ends, my heart still pounding over the geeky girl finding out that the “bo-hunk” has had a thing for her all along, it also aches with longing that Lukas could ever feel that way about me.

  Lukas and I work in the same factory, night-shift…textiles, yarn and Oriental rugs to be exact. Henderson Mills is the largest manufacturer of carpet and rugs in the state, and pretty much at least one member of every household works there, unless they were blessed to have parents who paid their way through college. Even then, they wind up as accountants or insurance salespersons. The fact is, there are no good jobs in Clayton.

  My daddy used to work for the railroad when he was a young man, he told me. Then he met up with a girl whose daddy owned an appliance store. Turns out that her daddy, Saul Hoffman, liked my daddy better than his daughter did. He not only hired him as a salesman, but also wound up promoting him to Head of Sales just before he died. His daughter, Marie, never did marry my daddy, or even continue to date him, seeing how her own daddy was so fond of him. But she did keep him on as Head of Sales after her daddy died.

  Turns out she didn’t know one thing about the business, but my daddy sure did. He turned such a profit for the company, that it took off, propelling into a fleet of stores across North Carolina, South Carolina and Tennessee. There was even an expansion, renaming them “Hoffman’s Furniture and Appliances,” and making Marie a very rich woman. Hoffman’s became a household name, as well as one of the most prestigious companies in Clayton, and still is to this day.

  In turn, Marie promoted my daddy to CEO of the company. He would run the business, and she and her new husband would rake in the money and travel the world.

  This suited my daddy to a tee, as he was paid a more than generous salary – much more than he had ever imagined during his time working as a railroad conductor.

  So yes, I had a very nice childhood where material possessions were concerned. I was also the apple of my daddy’s eye, jumping into his arms when he came home from work, asking if he had any surprises for me in his pocket. He was always bringing me sweets home from the corner store or the vending machines at the office. It seems he wasn’t concerned with my body image back then, seeing as I was so young. “Baby fat,” he would say. “look at that cute baby fat…it’ll be gone as soon as she’s old enough to get outside more, riding bikes and making friends all over the neighborhood.”

  “Hey Kas, how ‘bout you stop your daydreaming and get back to work!” My boss’s yell brings me from my reverie, annoying as it is to hear. Jasper has a voice that sounds like a file being scraped on sandpaper, smoker that he is.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I mumble as I turn on my twisting machine. It’s used to make multi-strand yarn, before it’s dyed and woven into vibrant, colorful, and very expensive Oriental rugs. As I walk through the creel, or the frame which holds the single-strand cones of yarn as they’re fed though tubes and into the machine which twists them into three or four-strand product, I look for ends that need to be tied onto tails, thus keeping a continuous feed of yarn going. One doesn’t want to wind up with an end out, or you’ll have to blow the new end through the tube and fix the break, which slows down production and makes Jasper yell even more.

  After everything is all filled and tied together, it’s time to doff off my machine. Filled spindles of yarn are removed and replaced with empty spindles with ends attached, and the process starts all over again. While twisting wasn’t necessarily a hard job, there is some skill involved to keep things running smoothly. One false move and you will wind up with a tangled mess on your hands, and the boss doesn’t like time wasted on fixing messes.

  Gus, who’s my fixer and does the maintenance of my machines, is sitting on a bail of yarn, lounging with his arms resting behind his head.

  “Girl, you sure are lookin’ good tonight!” he says, grinning my way. “How ‘bout me and you goin behind the crates and doin’ a lil somethin’ somethin’?” he asks coyly.

  Sidling up to him, smiling seductively, I walk around behind him, draping my arm across his chest and bending down to speak into his ear.

  “How ‘bout you get off your ass and do some work before I kick that bail out from under you and watch ya roll out in the floor?” I say, my smile turning to a scowl, as I grab the top of his ear and twist it savagely, bringing a yowl from ol’ Gus.

  “What the hell?” he yells, jumping up and rubbing his ear gingerly. “You ‘bout brought blood! You a mean-ass gal, that’s what you are!” he says indignantly.

  “I’m not mean,” I say, lifting my chin in defiance. “If I was mean, I woulda used my pliers to twist the top of your ear plum off. I just don’t take crap from men who think they can get an easy piece of tail ju
st because I’m a big girl,” I say, arms folded across my chest. “This big girl don’t play,” I tell him, my tone, icy.

  The sound of laughter behind me causes me to whirl around and see Lukas, a beautiful sight for my sore eyes, grinning from ear to ear.

  “What you laughin’ at, Crawford? It ain’t one bit funny, not one bit!” grumbles a pissed-off Gus.

  “Well, I dunno, Gus,” says Lukas, still grinning. “It looked pretty funny from where I was standin’.”

  Shaking his head and grumbling to himself about ornery and hateful women, Gus wanders off across the factory floor looking for someone to listen to him complain, bringing even more laughter from Lukas.

  “You got him good,” Lukas says, grinning over at me with his perfect lips and his gleaming white teeth. My knees trembled a little, just at the sight of him.

  “Yeah, well,” I say dryly, desperately trying to keep the quiver from my voice that was trying so hard to travel upward from my knees. “He got what was comin’ to him - just not what he thought was comin’,” I say with a scoffing sound, shaking my head in disgust.

  Standing there in his dusty bibbed overalls – not shirtless, like back in the day, but still looking fine as wine, Lukas watches me as I finished doffing off my machine. I am silently thanking God that he wasn’t shirtless, as he so often was when we were kids…I don’t think my heart could have taken the beating – no pun intended.

  “What say we grab a cold one when we get off work? I’m buyin’,” Lukas says with a grin. “You look like you could use a drink…your face is red as a pickled beet,” he says, shaking his head.

  What he doesn’t know is that my face is red due to the sheer excitement of him being near me…along with the thought of sitting beside him at Joe’s bar, the local dive, which will be jumpin’ by the time we get off work, around three a.m.

  “Sounds like a winner to me,” I say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. God, I love this man, I think with a sigh as he turns to walk away.

  Just before he gets out of ear-shot, Lukas turns and grins at me. “You know, Kas…you’re alright,” he says with a wink, and turns to walk back across the factory floor, to his own machines.

  Well, one thing is for sure, my heart gets quite the workout while Lukas Crawford is around.

  Chapter Three

  Kassidy

  As we step outside the factory door, crickets play their old, familiar tune. Dew has fallen, and it glistens on the picnic tables beneath the dusk to dawn light, humming and flickering as if it’s about ready to take a cue from us and call it quits for the night.

  Fellow workers head to their vehicles, heaving audible sighs of relief at finally being finished for the evening. Some rowdy guys let out a whoop and a holler, as their excitement can’t be contained.

  Jacob Vazquez runs by, calling over his shoulder, simultaneously stripping off his greasy uniform shirt. “See ya over there, man!”

  “Yep, grab me a cold one,” Lukas answers, his voice echoing in the semi-empty parking lot.

  Walking beside me, he says, “Why don’t we take my truck, and I’ll swing you back by here when we’re done, since it’ll be on both our way home?”

  With a big smile, I nod rapidly, hoping I don’t look too eager to be climbing into his big ol’ Chevy truck and riding so close beside him.

  “Hey wait up, man!” Randall McCrickard says, as he catches the door, just as I’m about to close it. “Can I catch a ride with you, dude? The wife’s got that ol’ crud, so I told her I’d find a ride home,” he says hopefully.

  “Sure, hop in!” Lukas says, as Randall waits for me to scooch over. As he jumps into the cab of the pickup, I am excruciatingly aware of just how close to Lukas I am, and my heart races in my chest.

  “Hey there, Kassidy,” Randall says in a friendly tone. “Mighty fine night out here, ain’t it?”

  Please don’t let me sound as breathless as I feel. “Hey Randall, you doin’ alright tonight? Yeah, it’s a gorgeous night, for sure.” There, I did it. Checking my peripheral, I don’t notice Lukas giving me any weird looks, so I suppose I kept my composure nicely after all.

  Before I had to talk anymore, we made it to Joe’s Bar. Most all the cars that were previously in the plant parking lot are now in Joe’s. It is the local watering hole for thirsty factory workers and late-night Clayton residents in general.

  As the three of us walk in the door, Randall pats Lukas on the back and says, “I’ll be back in a few. I need to talk to Mike. Lemme know if you decide to cut out early, man,” as he takes his leave and heads across the room.

  We spot an empty table near the back and head on over. Just about the time we get seated, I hear a voice that makes me cringe.

  “Kassidy Kane, you gonna make it rain? Get up on that table, gal. Let’s see whatcha got. Hey Joe, hope you got some good insurance!” Buck Dalton lets out a howl of laughter. His buddies, or more accurately, his minions, do the same, slapping Buck on the back.

  I avert my eyes and stare at the doorway, wanting to die from embarrassment. Of all nights for Buck to pull his stupid crap, it’s gotta be in front of Lukas.

  Oh, I can put him in his place with the quickness; I’ve done it so many times. Being able to hold my own with bullies is a super-power of mine, having had to do so my entire life - many times in front of Lukas. But that was when we were kids, and tonight, I wanna act like a lady.

  “Somethin’ you need, Buck?” Lukas asks, eyeing the jerk with disdain. “Cause we tryin’ to talk over here.”

  “What ya’ll talkin’ about…first thing that pops up?” Buck once again howls with laughter at his use of an ancient, corny joke. “Man, I know you ain’t really tryin’ to hit that,” he says, his tone suddenly serious.

  “I’ll just tell you what, Bucky-boy…when and if I ever do, you’ll be the last one to know.”

  Sitting there, wanting to sink underneath the table, I am absolutely mortified, but am trying to hold on to my religion.

  “Prolly be the only one who has tried,” Buck says with a sneer. “Big as that one is.”

  That’s it – I am done. Bein’ a lady is one thing, but being a victim of this kind of abuse is just too much.

  “Buck, you need to just…” Lukas begins defending my honor, but I quickly cut him off.

  “You know what, Buck? Yeah, I’m big – I’m a big girl. I might just be too damn big, true enough. But I can betcha one thing…that’s somethin’ a woman has never called you!”

  Fury has overcome me, and I am shaking from head to toe. But as angry as I am, I feel a rush of exhilaration as people in the bar begin laughing, huge howls of laughter. I have put the bully in his place. This is what I do best.

  “Oooh, she got you good, Buck!” His own friends are laughing at him, which brings the threat of a backhand aimed right for them.

  “What the hell did you just say to me?” Buck growls, his eyes filled with venom.

  “Oh, I think you heard the lady, she didn’t stutter,” Lukas says with a smug smile. “Now you run along, like a good little fella,” bringing more howls of laughter.

  As Buck, followed by his goons, stomps away, Lukas grins at me, shaking his head. “Girl, you are somethin’ else!”

  Smiling, I just give him a shrug. Who, me? About that time, Jacob shows up at our table, a beer in each hand. Doling them out to Lukas and me, he’s sporting a big ol’ grin.

  “Way to go, Kassidy!” he says jubilantly. “That dude seriously needs his ass kicked.”

  “Oh, I think that’s what she just did,” Lukas says, both laughing.

  “Handed it to him, is more like it!” Jacob says, shaking his head in astonishment.

  Is it my imagination, or do I see a gleam in Lukas’ eyes that wasn’t there earlier tonight? Don’t be stupid, girl. It’s called amusement…you made him laugh, that’s all. Get over yourself, sheesh.

  Bonnie Raitt is playing on the jukebox, singing about the thing called love, and I am surely feeling it as I watch Lu
kas and his best friend Jacob laughing and talking about work and supervisors.

  Not feeling left out at all, but enjoying the time that I get to watch Lukas without him wondering why, I feel a foot bump against mine underneath the table.

  “Earth to Kassidy,” Lukas says, laughing. “You were lost in your own little world there for a minute. Sorry we’re monopolizing the conversation,” he says kindly.

  “Monopolizing?’ Now there’s a big word for ya,” Jacob teases. “Ol’ Lukas here shoulda went on to college like his mama wanted him to do, but he wanted to be pig-headed and hang around this piss-hole town instead.”

  Smilingly shyly at being called out during my daydreams – early morning dreams, as it were, I say, “Nah, you’re good. I’m just sittin’ here, takin’ it all in.”

  “She looks tired,” says Jacob with concern. “Or are you just gettin’ a buzz from the beer?”

  Laughing, I respond, “Neither one, really. Just very relaxed. It’s nice bein’ here and not havin to punch a clock for a few hours. How bout we shoot some pool?”

  “I think I might just take you up on that, little lady,” Lukas says with a huge grin, probably thinking he can win a few extra bucks - but what he don’t know is that my uncle was a pool shark, and he taught me everything he knows, while he stayed with me and Mama after Daddy left.

  He used to bring me here to Joe’s when he was closed on Sundays, since he and Joe were best buddies. As Uncle Tommy showed me the fine art of billiards, Joe would hoot and holler with laughter.

  “Tommy, that girl’s gonna whoop your ass before you know it!”

  “I do believe you’re right, old friend,” Uncle Tommy would say, shaking his head as I made the shot he just taught me one single time.