by Cole Savage
“Momma, what did you tell Buford?”
“You ain’t gotta worry about that. I did what needed to be done. Rest assure that sum-bitch won’t be cattle callin’ you no more.”
“Don’t sass me, Momma, or I’m going tell the boys what you did three nights ago.”
“Ain’t nuthin’ in God’s green Earth gonna shame a dyin’ woman, Nicki.”
“I wanna hear what she did, Nicki,” said Dirk.
“Shut the hell up, Dirk, or I’m gonna give you a reason to cry. Ain’t nuthin’ here that concerns you boys,” said Karen.
“Fine, Momma… So, boys, three nights ago, Momma”-
“Okay, gosh darn it. I’ll tell you what I tole Buford. You ain’t gotta say no more.”
“No, no, Nicki. That’s horsecrap. You can’t start a tale without finishing,” said Bo.
“Mind your manners, Bo, or I’ll knock your teeth so far down your throat, you’ll spit’em out in single file, and I swear to Jesus, next time you see my Nicki naked will be in a wet-dream.” Karen put the fly-swatter down next to her chair, right next to her stress-relief counselor—a double barrel, sawed off shotgun used to ward of unwanted guest. She sat down and seared Bo with her eyes.
“You wanna know what I told that sum-bitch, Bo? I’ll tell you, and when I’m done, I’m gonna give you a three-dollar haircut with my fist.” Bo and Dirk straightened up on the couch, and Nicki said, “We’re waiting, Momma.”
“I can’t recollect everything, you know my memory’s fadin’ a bit, but I do recall after Buford said please, I said, come over here so you can apologize in person, and after your done kissin’ my ass, I might let you walk out of here with your boots on and your nose in the same place.”
“Is that it? Is that all you said to him?”
“That’s it, honey.”
“Momma don’t edit. You were on the phone longer than that.”
“The three of you quit fussin’ about somethin’ that don’t matter.”
“Momma.”
“All right, all right. I couldn’t resist. I tole him if he finds himself in a hole, like right now, quit diggin’ cause he’s likely to uncover a bigger asshole than the one doin’ the diggin’, and don’t ever call back cause sometimes silence is the best solution, it’s better than squattin’ with spurs on, or pissin’ on Karen Griggs.
Bo and Dirk were practically falling off the couch laughing, and Nicki was doing her best to maintain her composure. “Is that all, Momma.”
“I might a offered a few anecdotes not worthy of mention.” Karen gestured to Bo and Dirk with her finger, who were still laughing, and Nicki had covered her mouth, unable to hide her delight. Bo picked up his cup of coffee and put it in front of his lips, but he couldn’t hide his smile.
“You boys listen here. This is serious business.” Karen turned to Bo and Dirk.
“Mind your manners and quit with your silly ideas. I have no intention of leaving my grandkids with hillbilly drunks. Not one of you has set a good example for any of your kinfolk, and Dirk, the last thing your momma needs right now is two rug rats runnin’ around her stead.” Nicki interrupted. “I’m thinking about letting them live with their dad in Morgantown.” Everyone quit sipping their cups, all eyes on Nicki, then Karen said, “Boys, there ain’t no shame in that. After all, Kyle wasn’t a bad guy. Sum-bitch just couldn’t keep his britches on. Might be good for those youngin’s to get to know their daddy.”
“But I can do it, Mrs. Griggs. I’ll clean myself up. Give me a chance and watch me.” Karen dropped her glasses below her nose. She smiled, a wicked smile, not a smile of empathy. She looked at Bo and said, “Bo, Dirk, hear me out. You know a redneck is about to do something stupid when he says, ‘watch me’.
They spent the rest of the evening contemplating what to do with Tyler and Cole, and when Nicki felt too sick to carry on, the boys went home. Nicki told Karen she was tired and overwhelmed, so Karen followed her into the bedroom, turned her bed down, plumped her pillows and closed the window, keeping out the cool fall air. Karen laid her in bed and put a cool cloth on Nicki’s head. Nicki felt overwhelmed, despair sinking deeper, her head throbbing from all the decisions she was trying to make. Karen sat next to her, drying her hands on a small towel. It was the wee hours of the morning. Karen put her hands on her daughter’s head, pushed Nicki’s hair back and stroked it as only a mother can.
“Honey, I think we should call Kyle. It’s a great idea. He can help us make this decision. Hell, for all we know that sum-bitch is lying in a ditch on the side of a road somewhere— or down at Baskerville rottin’ in a cell.”
“Now, Momma. You know Kyle wasn’t that sort of guy.”
“Nevertheless, that boy is still a no-gooder. His momma should have taken a switch to that sum-bitch more often. Probably could have set him straight. I’ll bet there ain’t a day goes by he don’t regret what he’s done.”
“Momma, leaving this town was the smartest thing Kyle ever did.”
They settled their disagreement and agreed that Nicki would call Kyle in the morning—
see if he was willing to take the boys.
After three hours of looking at the ceiling Nicki found the back of her eyelids— unfortunately for her. A dawning of fear followed her as the tide of it rushed in from the darkest ocean of her mind—caught in a nightmare. Grief-stricken, flailing, tossing, trying to wake, paralyzed with dread. Her entire being filled with dreadful things, followed by an endless fall into a stifling darkness— an early sign of elementary madness. Moaning loudly under the bonds of sleep, her sanity postulated while her psyche neglected the bitter truth, so she sank deeper into the quicksand of her self-conscious, where even the scantest of phonetic entities could not escape compressed lips. Her heart pounded as the cold rushed in with the darkness, and her eyelids fluttered— a muted command from her conscience to open her eyes, but she couldn’t. She rolled over, her eyes fluttering, and all movement seized—still as the night; back in a dream— back in high school, 2001.
CHAPTER 4
Nicki is standing next to Mandy, her best friend, wearing a mint silk strapless dress above the knees, her dark black hair in Felicity curls, at Prom— Franklin High. The gymnasium decorated with colorful balloons, crimson paper ribbons draped from trusses.
“Don’t worry, Nicki, he’ll be here. They probably held him over at the mine,” Mandy said, wearing a blue tea length prom dress, standing under one of the four basketball hoops draped with white lights and multi-colored balloons.
They sidled over and stood next to a brick wall that was covered with posters and banners designating the Class of 1999. Slogans like, this is our story, thank you for a great year. One said: Girls surrender your dress on this great occasion.
“Hey, Nicki. I got these for you,” said a thin boy in a black tuxedo with long brown hair, handing Nicki a bouquet of red roses.
“Wyatt, ain’t that just the sweetest thing. Thank you.”
“You look real perty, Nicki.”
“Thank you, Wyatt. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
“My daddy saw you at the five and dime the other day and told momma you were a showstopper— a real Calico Queen. Then he said he didn’t know your daddy was a farmer, cause Nicki was carryin’ some mighty fine melons. But I know Daddy knows your pop works at the mine, so I scratched my head—maybe Daddy has plumb lost his mind.” Mandy laughed. “Shut up, Mandy. Wyatt is just trying to be a gentleman.”
“You think I look pretty, Wyatt?” Mandy said condescendingly.
“You look real nice too, Mandy. Daddy said to momma that your ass is so big, it looks like two Volkswagens fightin’ for a parking space. I reckon’ he was bein’ persnickety. I think Daddy likes big girls.” Nicki looked at Mandy with a thin smile.
“You see, Mandy, Wyatt’s dad likes big girls.”
“Wyatt, get your boney ass out of here and tell your daddy I don’t go out with puddle jumpin’ gritters.”
“Bye, Nicki. Maybe you can
come over for supper sometime?”
“Hey, bottom feeder, move along. I don’t want Mr. Right to think I’m spoken for.”
“Mandy, stop it.”
“You believe that ass-clown? That boy is one pancake short of a single stack.”
Wyatt walked away. Then, two young boys wearing tuxedos walked by.
“Hey, Nicki— Hi, Nicki.”
“Hey, Billy— Hey, Warren,” Nicki said with a big smile.
“Hey, rock tossers. I’m standing here, too,” said Mandy.
“Keep walking, Billy. I’m gonna tell Mika I caught you swapping spit with that butt-fugly, Tina Meyers.” Billy walked away, looked back and flipped Mandy the bird. Nicki looked at Mandy sardonically, and Mandy gave Billy a one finger salute.
“Jesus, Mandy. You’re a train wreck.”
“No, I’m not. I just realized what my problem is. I need to find a new best friend. Hanging out with you is cramping my style. It’s not easy being the second hottest girl in Franklin. I’m tired of baiting them with my big bootie Judy, and every single time they end up liking you.”
“It’s not your looks, Mandy. It’s your abrasive personality.”
“No, Nicki. Look at you. You’re freakin’ perfection. My voluptuous curves are no match for that perfect bubble butt, hot ass legs, and gorgeous face that melts icebergs. Not to mention your giant perfectly round sweater meat. Hell, girlfriend, if I didn’t like boys so much, I’d swap spit with you.”
“That’s an awfully sweet thing to say, Mandy. You have a heart after all.”
“No I don’t. I paid thirty dollars for this wicked sexy dress, and if I ain’t exchanging sweat with Mr. right by midnight, I’m taking it back and the whole night would have been a bust,” she said, as they walked toward the dance floor.
“I don’t know why they had to combine our schools for Prom?” Nicki said chewing her nails.
“I don’t know, Nicki. This could be fun, you know. Supposing you came here alone, like me.”
Four guys wearing tuxedos approached Nicki from behind, on an isolated corner of the gym. “What’s up, home skillet?” said Troy. A good-looking, dark-haired, burly young man wearing a duck-tailed black tuxedo, white shirt, and cummerbund, complemented with a black bow tie.
“Ignore them, Nicki, they’ll get the message.”
“Nicki, I’ve been undressing you all night. Why don’t you go home with me and see if I was right? That dress would look real good hangin’ on my bedroom door.” Then Mandy said,
“Troy, I would love to see things from your point of view, but I can’t get my head that far up my own ass.”
“Mandy, shouldn’t you be in the food line? They only have a few hunderd chickens.” Nicki walked away, Troy jumped in front, blocking her path with his arm, and Nicki stopped. She crossed her arms, while Troy’s three friends stood behind him shooting insults at Mandy, who lifted her arm in a tight fist, kissed it, and blew it in their direction.
“Come on, Nicki. Can we talk?”
“When did you learn to talk, Troy?” Nicki said turning away.
“When you gonna quit wasting your time with that coal shoveler?”
“I’ll tell you what, Troy. When you get a personality and grow up, I’ll talk to you.”
“Beat it, needle dick,” said Mandy. “Go talk to your home slice Lula, who’s telling everyone your second belly button is too low.” Nicki and Mandy walked away, on the hardwood floor covered by round tables, paper tablecloths and ball jars filled with red and white wildflowers. The other side of the gym had an open space reserved for dancing. Troy and his three friends followed, jawing them with sexual innuendo and fat jokes. Troy grabbed Nicki by the shoulder, she pulled away and forged ahead.
“Nicki, when you gonna quit wasting your time with that Coal Cracker? My dad owns eighteen oil wells. What can Kyle give you that I can’t?”
“Maybe I should be dating your dad, Troy.”
“Come on, Nicki. You’re like no other girl I’ve ever known. Don’t punish me because we go to different schools.”
“Does that line actually work on girls, sleazeball, or is this first time you used it on anyone but a boy?” asked Mandy.
“I ain’t talkin’ to you, muffin top.” Nicki grabbed Mandy’s arm and walked her to the double doors by the parking lot, as a young man wearing a white suit came over to Troy, who was still following Nicki and Mandy. The young man, Travis, tapped Troy on the shoulder and said, “Troy, maybe you should back off. You probably already know this, but that fine tail right there is Kyle’s girlfriend.”
“And that’s supposed to leave me shaking in my boots, Travis?”
“I’m just saying, watch your step. The boys up at Kessler tell me he’s a little unstable and fighting for Kyle is some sort of religious experience.”
“What the hell does that even mean, Travis?”
“I ain’t telling you what to do, just giving you a heads up, is all.”
“Okay, Travis. Get your head out of my ass— go back to your band of coal monkeys and keep practicing shoveling coal, your career at the coal hole starts tomorrow.”
Troy’s cronies laughed, and Travis sauntered back to his friends. Troy was a highly-recruited high school football player from Pendleton High, who carried a chip on his shoulder because Kyle made All-American as running back at Franklin, a rival school, and Troy didn’t, leaving him feeling left out.
Troy looked at Nicki’s back, “Hey, Nicki. I’d tell you a joke about my dick, but it’s too long.” Mandy turned around with a smile and said, “Hey, ass clown. I’d tell you a joke about Nicki’s bearded clam, but you’ll never get it. So go back to Pendleton with your home girls and peddle your weak game to the gutter whores who don’t mind shaking it with slack-jawed cave dwellers.”
Nicki had her arms crossed, looking at the parking lot, she turned to Mandy and her jaw dropped.
“Mandy, mind your manners, and leave my body parts out of it.”
“You’re right, Nicki. We’ll let Kyle handle those Bama rednecks.” Nicki leaned into Mandy. “No you won’t. Kyle is not to know.”
Standing by the double doors, Nicki waited for Kyle, as a claw of lightning streaked down the length of the sky. The distant trees seemed to leap forward in the brilliance of the flash, and immediately following the dazzling light, came the thunder— a high tearing noise which deepened and turned to enormous blows of cracking and violent vibrations. The rain fell like a waterfall, and in just a few seconds the ground was covered with water to a height of inches. The eye of the storm is not always what happens when Mother Nature turns her anger on the world. Sometimes the eye of the storm is what goes on in the world, in this case, it was a very wet Coal Miner and football player, by the name of Kyle Tillman.
The four Roughnecks took pleasure drooping around Nicki, dribbling vituperations, subjecting Nicki to sexual intimidation, then finally, Nicki saw a figure dodging in and around cars in the parking lot, running through the monsoon. The towering man came into view, his messy hair covered with cardboard, and Nicki smiled. Mandy turned to see if the wildcatters would be sticking around to harangue them any further, and Mandy said, “where you boys going, Troy? What? You don’t want to talk anymore?” Troy flipped her the bird and walked away with his buddies. “You better go home and get some mouthwash, Troy, so when Kyle kicks your teeth in, he doesn’t get his shoes dirty.”
The graduates sat for a prepared dinner of fried chicken, collard greens, buttered biscuits and corn on the cob, and the DJ played Something to Believe in, by Warrant. Nicki turned to Mandy, pigeon-holed her in the stomach and said, as Kyle approached from the parking lot.
“Don’t say anything about the meatheads from Pendleton.”
“What are you talking about, Nicki? You want to see Kyle kick the crap out of those knuckleheads as much as I do.”
“Not tonight, Mandy. This is our first official date and I don’t want to spoil it because little minds couldn’t take no for an answer.”
> “I’m not making any promises, but if those gomers call me muffin-top one more time, I’m gonna tell Kyle the disgusting things they said, then I’m gonna watch while Kyle punches their ticket.”
Kyle came in, Nicki handed him napkins to dry his hands and face, Kyle gave Nicki a hug and Mandy a smile. Mandy gave him a wave, with her other arm across her stomach, and flashed a bellicose look. Kyle was a six foot four, wide-shouldered handsome man, sporting a tiny waist and massive biceps. His chiseled jaw line and cheekbones highlighted deep green eyes, and his black hair was long and messy in a grunge kind of way. Kyle was wearing a mandarin collar black western tuxedo, turquoise bolo tie, cowboy boots and a white shirt.
“Just in time, handsome, they’re serving your favorite supper.”
“Sorry, I’m late. We lost power at the mine, and the darn elevator was stuck clear at the bottom of the coal hole. Buford drove a front loader into the abutment that housed the generator and broke the bearing plate under the abatement and troughing idlers. When the idlers split, the bridge conveyors dropped its load on the tail section, covering the opening of the coal hole. The scrubbers were off, so we had to breathe with our self-rescuers. The methane monitors sounded like Mandy when Lloyd popped her cherry in the back of a coal-hauler last week.”
Mandy jolted to attention, covered her mouth in disbelief, while Kyle laughed. “How’d you know that, Kyle?” Mandy said.
“The next day Lloyd got tipsy on the shine, so he told me and Wilber you sounded like a Pygmy Whale in heat.’ He said all the neighbors busted outside, cause they reckoned the tornado siren was hollerin’ from Church Street.”
“That sonofabitch. I’m gonna cut his balls off when I see him.”
“It’s alright, Mandy. He said you was good. Just next time, he reckoned he would take you out to the sticks where only the wolves could hear you sing’.” Nicki laughed, and Mandy put her right hand up in a fist. “That sonofabitch.”
“I’m sorry you had a bad day, Kyle,” Nicki said pulling in close, looking in his eyes.