Swing State

by Michael T. Fournier

  “Our ten remaining contestants have a difficult challenge today.”

  Five of the men stand on the floor, the other five on risers. Zack Fox stands between them and a screen bearing the face of an attractive blonde woman.

  She speaks: “I don’t think I’m hard to please, but I know what I like. And it’s a blend of indoor and outdoor activities.”

  Cut to the contestants, nodding.

  “So, your challenge today will test your skills and memory. The winner will be awarded five hundred points.”

  The contestants look at each other, smiling. Five hundred points! This challenge is the most valuable one so far.

  Cut to a close-up of a guy who looks like a soccer striker. He sits in front of the TV show’s heart-shaped balloon logo. He says, “Five hundred points! I’ll be able to outbid anyone. Best square, here I come!”

  Cut to a close-up of a normal, heavy-set guy in front of the same logo. He’s wearing a plain T-shirt. Strikers don’t have acne like he does, or big thick glasses. He says to the camera, “If I win five hundred points I can wait until the first batch of contestants burns through their points buying single squares and then get the leftovers inexpensively.”

  “Contestants,” Zack Fox says back at the studio, between the screen and the contestants, “are you ready for your next Love Balloon challenge?” The crowd cheers as the men nod and yell, “YEAH!”

  The show’s theme music plays as the contestants form a line.

  “Your challenge,” Zack Fox says, “is to answer Jenna’s questions correctly, using these weighted balls to do so.” Here Zack Fox holds one up; it is bright, and slightly larger than a softball. “For each question you answer correctly—by throwing a ball into the correct bucket—you will earn five points. The contestant with the most points will win five hundred. In the event of a tie, the contestants may elect to split the pot, or have a tiebreaker. The three contestants with the lowest points total will face elimination.”

  “Are we ready?”

  Again, everyone yells, “YEAH!”

  “Love Balloon contestants—begin!”

  The first man stands in line facing a row of baskets. Each has its own label: fish, chicken, beef, tofu, salad.

  Zach Fox stands straddling a stripe on the floor. “The first toss is Jenna’s favorite food. Jenna’s favorite food, first toss.”

  Viewers remember that the interview with Jenna, the blonde woman, is a replay from a previous episode. She says, “I try to be very aware of my weight. I was heavy in high school, then managed to get my eating habits under control. Men never used to give me the time of day, but now they pay attention. I managed to get thin because I exercised and ate a lot of fish.”

  The first contestant, who looks like a striker/underwear model, stands at the line holding a ball. The crowd roars choices at him.

  “Jenna looks good,” he says. “She’s really fit. I don’t think she got that way by eating beef.”

  The crowd cheers.

  “I’m gonna say it’s lean protein that got her to where she is . . . chicken!”

  He throws a ball.

  Wait a minute, Zachariah Tietz thinks.

  The ball hangs suspended in midair.

  It’s a good challenge. The strikers won’t remember the details the same way as regular guys, who pay more attention. He doesn’t know what the strikers think about. Like Rick, once his friend, who hadn’t acknowledged him since the soccer field accident. If everyone looked past him the same way Rick did, Zachariah thinks, he wouldn’t have to eat lunch in the handicapped bathroom.

  Even if the ball missed its intended target of chicken, it might still go in the fish bucket, and give the striker five points.

  What else could he do? For a game show to succeed, action had to be included. Physical challenges would keep people watching. But they had to be fair.

  A million dollars was a huge prize. And Jenna was a pretty woman. He imagined himself winning the prize and getting to the second season. It was hard for him to conceive of such a thing, in the same way, he imagined, the other normal guys on the show would have a hard time believing their good fortune if they won. He thought the underwear models and strikers wouldn’t appreciate what they had, the same way Rick didn’t.

  And Zachariah knew he couldn’t assume the strikers would forget everything Jenna said. Some of them were probably pretty smart. Rick could remember numbers in a way he couldn’t—batting averages, home runs, that sort of thing. Of course, Zachariah wasn’t much of a baseball fan. But he did love baking, and couldn’t remember how many quarts were in a gallon, or teaspoons in a tablespoon. If Rick could do it, some of the strikers could, too. And some of the normal guys couldn’t.

  But it had to be fair. Zachariah couldn’t tip the scales away from the strikers. In the library, he read about a fifties quiz show where answers were given to contestants ahead of time. The public outcry against the show—and against game shows in general—had been huge. Zachariah’s Love Balloon would change the genre forever, and hopefully give a normal guy a chance with a great woman like Jenna. But the risk remained that a striker would win it all.

  It had to be fair, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be broken, the way Press Your Luck had been. Maybe there was a pattern. And maybe the normal guys would find a way to succeed.

  The physical challenges would balance the mental ones, which he thought the normal guys would win.

  It would work. He had to trust that the normal guys would succeed if given the same chance as the strikers.

  The ball, hanging in midair, comes alive and lands in the “chicken” basket.

  The next contestant, a normal guy, walks to the stripe.

  “I think Bob’s right,” he says, gesturing toward the previous contestant. “I think she likes chicken the best.”

  He stands at the line, rubbing the ball before throwing it toward the chicken basket. But his aim is off. The ball falls in the basket marked “fish.” The contestant lowers his head. The camera cuts to Zack Fox, who wears a knowing look.

  Points are tallied after the game, with its multiple questions, is over. The three contestants with the lowest totals stand before the giant screen.

  “You three have the lowest totals,” Jenna says from the screen. “Why should you stay on Love Balloon?”

  The first contestant, Bob, a striker, says, “You should keep me on Love Balloon because I can bench press three hundred pounds. I can mop the floor with any of these geeks. I can throw a football through a tire seventy-five yards away and I can fix your car.”

  The second contestant, Deion, a normal guy, says, “You should keep me on the show because my aim was off today. I didn’t do a very good job throwing the balls during the challenge. But I know your favorite food is fish, and I know you like reading books better than magazines, and that your favorite time of day is right after the sun sets, and that if you could take a vacation anywhere in the world it would be to New Zealand.”

  The third contestant, James, also a normal guy, says, “I had bad aim, too. You should keep me on the show because I promise I’ll be nice to you if I get to the second season. We’ll split the chores and the cooking so both of us have time to do things on our own. And we’ll do a lot of things together, too. We’ll go for walks in the woods the way you like and pick apples in the fall and drink fresh cider from the press.”

  Jenna wears a pensive face.

  Her screen goes blank.

  Zack Fox puts his fingertips to his ear. Repeat viewers have come to notice the almost invisible earpiece nestled there. Almost imperceptibly, he nods.

  “Jenna has weighed her options,” he says.

  The crowd cheers. The phrase has become a cultural phenomenon, appearing on T-shirts and coffee mugs as well as in everyday conversation.

  “The contestant who will be going home tonight—who will not have a chance to participate in the Love Balloon auction at the end of the season, is . . .”

  The camera pans across the c
ontestants’ faces.

  “Bob.”

  “Thank you, Bob, for playing Love Balloon.”

  Bob walks to the center of the stage and shakes Zack Fox’s hand. He then walks down a dark hallway under the light of a single bulb.

  As he departs, his exit speech plays:

  “Of course I’m mad. I mean, I have way more to offer than those two scrawny geeks inside. What she needs is a real man. Those dweebs don’t fit the bill. I bet neither of them has been inside a gym a day of their lives. Jenna, if you get stuck with one of those two losers, give me a call. I’ll show you a real man.”

  “That’s all the time we have for this week,” Zack Fox says. “Tune in next week, when nine contestants compete. I’m Zack Fox. From all of us at Love Balloon, good night!”

  16.

  THE LIGHTS BUZZED. CRACKLED. WHITE WALLS. Paneled ceiling. Imagined working there. That buzz all day. Sit quietly. At a desk. Fill out papers. Kids in high school. His classes. This is what they wanted. Sit at a desk to sit at a desk.

  Every noise louder. Felt a headache coming behind his eyes. Waiting area. Old magazines. Lady next to him sniffled. Every forty-five seconds. He timed it. Nothing else to do. Sniff, sniff. Not like gunshots where he stopped hearing it, or bells on the door of the garage. Every one worse. In his spine first, then up and down his body.

  She got called. Sniffler. Went in. Stephanie, they said. Stood up and sniffled in. Then other things: flipping pages. Chairs against the carpet. Breathing. Music playing. Bad versions of bad songs. No vocals. But he knew them. Did you ever know that you’re my hero. Do you know the way to San Jose. Have you ever seen the rain. One after another. When he left one would be stuck in his head. Didn’t know which one. Didn’t matter. Poor bastards who worked there. Bringing work home with them. Always heard that. Peck. When I get back I’m gonna do customizing and detailing. Great work. Then at the end of the day I’ll leave it in the garage. Forget all about that shit. Start drinking. Not worry about a goddamn thing. Can’t wait. These people couldn’t. Dancing on the ceiling at work. Then at home. Every day. I bless the rains down in Africa.

  Looked at magazines. Heard the songs. Knew every one. Everyone called but him. Some people got there after him, sat down, got called.

  Finally: Royal Eggleton.

  Same lady. Always looked like someone farted.

  Hello, Royal, she said when he stood up. Saw her eyes change. Like oh, him. Great.

  Led him through a maze of cubes. Heard the music. Reeling in the years. Always got lost trying to get out. A left, a right. Another. Another. Stopped paying attention. Distracted. Reeling solo. Wasn’t bad. Conversations. Some sounded happy. I might have something for you. Have you tried the . . . ? I’d advise you to . . . A right. She sat down at a desk. Remembered the picture. Smiling little girl. Missing front tooth. Cute. She gestured at the chair.

  Well, Royal, she said. I’m afraid the news isn’t very good. Her face looked pinched. Like she didn’t want him there. As you know, construction jobs are very hard to come by.

  I know, he said. Didn’t worry about it the whole time he was away. Glad. Enough shit to deal with. Came back and got blind-sided. Stupid. Should never have listened. But glad he did.

  The manufacturing sector has largely been outsourced to foreign soil, eliminating a majority of jobs at mills and factories. We have been doing our best to find work for you, but the longest tenured employees hold their jobs tight. Union regulations.

  And I’m afraid the janitorial jobs in the area are the same way. And landscaping. The number of applicants has increased dramatically with the closure of so many mills and factories. While you were gone Northeast Paper closed. That alone added another eight hundred to the pool.

  Janitorial. Cleaned shit as punishment. Turd splatter. Got shot at. Almost died. Artillery. Qualified him to clean shit. Or put paper cups in boxes all day.

  Isn’t there anything else?

  In the past, we have placed veterans in call centers. These jobs have moved south. And cameras and surveillance equipment have taken the place of traditional security in many workplaces. It’s cheaper to install a high-tech system than it is to hire a staff. This is a shame. With your military background you are perfectly qualified for security.

  At least standing with a gun made sense.

  Unless you have specific training I’m not sure I’ll be able to assist you further at this time.

  I used to work on engines. While I was there. Had a lot of experience. Training.

  Your profile lists you as artillery.

  Well, I was. But there was a shortage. Need. My spare time, I spent on engines.

  Engines. I see. What kind of engines?

  Trucks, mostly. Some regular. Some diesel.

  Diesel.

  I’ve been reading.

  Excuse me?

  Books. From the library. Foreign. Domestic. Diesel. Gas. Brushing up. I was good at it.

  Books from the library.

  Plus my experience. Lot of stuff overseas. A lot. I would have gotten more time in if it hadn’t been for—

  Yes, I know.

  —you know, if I hadn’t—

  Yes, yes. I know. I am aware.

  —so maybe you can—

  I see. Yes. Um. Of course, yes. Beyond the markets we’ve previously discussed I may be able to fit you into some kind of mechanical opening. There are a few.

  Thank you.

  One in Haughton, the other in Hanley.

  What about Snooker’s?

  Excuse me?

  Snooker’s.

  . . .

  Garage.

  . . .

  In Schaferville. Anything there?

  Snooker’s Garage is not one of our clients.

  Friend of mine works there. Artie. Know him?

  I don’t believe I do, no.

  Great guy. Great. Best friends since grade school.

  His name does not ring a bell.

  Maybe if you saw him.

  Maybe, yes. We do not—

  Easy to recognize him. Great looking guy. Not that . . . you know—

  —of course. We do not —

  —I’m just saying is all. Hahahaha.

  Yes. We do not work with Snooker’s.

  Artie works over there.

  Yes, as you mentioned. If you have specific establishments in mind, it is a good strategy to visit them yourself and inquire within. We are happy to assist you with your job search, as you know, but feel free to target establishments on your own.

  I did. Yesterday. Walked there. Wasn’t working.

  You should try back again.

  I will. I just thought maybe I hadn’t told you so I thought I would.

  Of course.

  Don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. I guess I was thinking about construction. They promised I’d have work. When I got back. And I didn’t. So I didn’t think about—

  Of course, Royal.

  Hard getting back to normal.

  Yes.

  Didn’t want to think about it. You know. About being overseas.

  Of course. I do wish you had mentioned it upon your initial screening.

  Didn’t think of it.

  I could have been looking at that sector of the job market for you all this time.

  Couldn’t.

  Yes, of course. So, Royal, if there are any specific garages you think would be conducive to your job search, seek them out specifically and directly. Ask them if they need any help. Become known to them.

  Are you saying hang around?

  Not necessarily hang around, but be frequent in your check backs. This will establish you as a serious candidate.

  Okay.

  I will do my part.

  Thank you.

  Stop by in a few weeks.

  I will.

  As always I will call if anything opens up.

  Thank you.

  He got up. Realized he didn’t know how to get out.

  “Hip to be Square�
�� in the background.

  Stuck in the middle. Wasn’t sure where he was. Looked for an edge. Find a wall, follow it to the lobby. But there were cubes everywhere. Desks. Couldn’t see any way out.

  Turned around. Went back.

  I’m sorry, I—

  I’ll escort you out, she said, face fartpinched.

  She walked him through the maze to the lobby. “Heaven Is a Place on Earth” came on.

  Well, Royal, she said. Good luck. I’ll be seeing you.

  Thank you.

  He watched her walk back to her desk.

  Hadn’t been to garages. Needed to. But wasn’t sure. Skills. He had some. Could learn more. But didn’t have many. Probably not enough. Was just starting to understand when it happened. Hopefully Artie would vouch for him. Show him things. Get him up to speed. If there were places that needed help bad they might take him. But that stuff she said. About the economy. Mills closing. Made sense. All the closed stores in Schaferville. Except the beer place. And the cheese shop.

  One garage on the way back to his place. What was it called. Couldn’t remember. Seemed okay. Looked a little expensive. Good. They’d pay.

  Hello there, I’m looking for a job. No. Hello, sir. Unless it was a lady. Like at Artie’s. Ma’am? Miss? Madam? Couldn’t remember which. Always changed. Maybe just hello. That would work. Hello. I am just back from overseas. No. More. I have just returned from serving our country. Too much. I just got back from Afghanistan where I worked on engines. Good. I’m a war veteran with experience fixing engines. Maybe that was it.

  The place was in that strip. Not much of anything there. A few houses. Carpet store. Some trees. Woods. He went there a few times. When he was little. Might as well. Explore. But it was boring. No quarries or hearses or anything. Surprised it wasn’t developed yet. Always happened. Buy land, build houses. All looked the same. Matter of time. Then cheese shops would go in. Lots of people with houses. Hopefully two cars each. Need more garages.

  She said mechanical. That was good. Didn’t realize until now. Not mechanic. Mechanical. Like working on big machines. Factories. Wouldn’t be so bad. Handyman. Fix things when they broke. Have to learn them. But he could. Good with his hands. Belts, grease. All made sense to him. Missed that. The grease. Hands clean since he got back.