Chapter 4

My mother was putting food on the table when I got back home. I tried to hide how much discomfort I was in as I washed up and sat at the table while she put out food. Between walking from the bus stop and my walk down Main Street, I knew I’d pushed myself too hard and I didn’t feel like an ‘I told you so’ lecture.

I wasn’t the type that liked to just sit around in one place, to the point where I didn’t often make it through watching an entire game without getting antsy, so sitting with my leg up felt like torture. The pain started to dull after I sat for a little bit watching her and my dad go through their getting ready for dinner ritual, so I probably didn’t do any real damage. I just needed to maybe take it a little easier from now on, if for nothing else than to guarantee I stayed on this crutch for the least amount of time.

Dad sat down, staring blankly at his hands, waiting for Mom to put down the last of the food and join us, just like he’d done my entire life. There wasn’t any small talk and we basically just sat there quietly, waiting. Say what you will about Dad, he respected Mom and he’d drilled into me from when I was young that we didn’t start dinner without her. The few times I’d tried to rebel against that as a kid had earned me a swift smack on the back of the head and a few foodless nights in my room. I guess the lesson had stuck, since I didn’t even think of reaching to the plates already on the table until Mom sat down and scooted in her chair.

“How was your walk?” Mom asked once she sat down, always being the one to start dinner-time conversation.

“Not bad. A lot of stores have closed up since the last time I was down there.”

“Times have been a little tough,” Mom, always the optimist, said. “They’ll come back when things get better.”

“Companies have been cutting jobs for ten damn years,” Dad mumbled through his roll. “Even when the economy has been good, moving folks out to Montana or getting rid of them. Jobs ain’t coming back.”

“Last time I talked to Jolene, she said she’d heard there was a furniture company that was thinking about opening up a small thing up here.”

“That’ll be the day,” Dad grumbled, basically ending that topic.

After a minute of silence, I said, “I ran into Evan Farmer.”

“Ohh, that’s nice,” Mom said, not making eye contact.

Although it wasn’t particularly fair to Evan, she’d blamed most of my youthful indiscretions on him, and clearly hadn’t forgiven him for any of them yet. Of course, that was partially my fault since I hadn’t said anything while she’d added to his tally of misdeeds. It was easier letting him take the blame than dealing with her scorn.

“He said he got moved to day shift,” I said, turning to Dad.

While Dad had never defended Evan, he hadn’t placed the same amount of blame on him, since he’d been the one to deal with the sheriff and others when we’d gotten into trouble and seen just how much of it I’d really been responsible for.

Instead of his normal silence, he grumbled and half rolled his eyes at Evan’s name, saying, “Of course he did. Easier to cause trouble on day shift.”

“He’s been causing trouble?”

“One of management’s ‘bully-boys,’” Dad said sarcastically.

“Really?” I said, surprised, even though it explained some things.

Dad had a vendetta against the company and what he and some of the other guys called ‘bully-boys’ for years. Generally, they left the day-to-day stuff up to the mine foreman and the other supervisors, which were guys who got their position out of merit as much as seniority, since an incompetent person in those positions could cost the company a lot of money, which was the one thing they found truly important.

Occasionally, though, the company would need some sort of dirty work done that guys who made supervisor wouldn’t be willing to do. Roughing up undesirable employees, getting rid of protestors, and occasionally helping break strikes. This far out, it didn’t make sense to bring in outsiders who wouldn’t know all the ins and outs, so Dixon tended to find a handful of current employees with more flexible morals than the rest. In exchange for favorable treatment, they’d occasionally get ‘suggestions’ from management to do whatever the company couldn’t do officially.

The rest of the guys hated them, but couldn’t actually do anything about them, which led to all sorts of animosity. Worse, from Dad’s point of view as one of the older guys still on the books, most of the bully-boys wanted to be on the easier day shift, which meant he had to deal with them more than the younger guys, which made them his favorite topic of conversation.

“I’d wondered how he’d gotten on day shift after less than ten years on the job. I’m surprised, though. He wasn’t ever one of those kinds of guys in school.”

“A thug? Sure he was.”

“Come on. He could be rough sometimes, but he wasn’t a bad guy.”

Both Mom and Dad gave me looks before Mom said, “Evan has always been a problem child, and a bad influence on you. Just look at how much better you did once you got away from him.”

“That’s not really fair, Mom. I was as much of a problem child as he ever was. Just cause I grew up doesn’t mean I wasn’t a jerk back then.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, clearly not buying it, before changing the topic like she did every time things got contentious. “So, we haven’t really talked about it. How are you handling everything?”

“Fine, I guess. I didn’t really love the job, so losing it isn’t that big of a loss, except I have to figure out what I want to do next. As for Terri, that had been falling apart for a while. I’m pissed at her, but not really sad she’s gone.”

Mom, who’d never liked Terri, left that part alone and focused on the job part, saying, “Do you have any ideas of what you’re going to do?”

“No. I mean, with my degree with no work experience, basically the only thing I’m qualified for is being a gym teacher.”

“I think Orville Cross might be hiring. Did you hear he’s sheriff?”

“Yeah, I heard. It’s wild, but I don’t want to be a cop again. It sucked the life out of me.”

“It’ll be different out here than the city and Orville is a good man and you two knew each other in school.”

I didn’t want to point out how terrible I’d been to him and that Orville would probably want nothing to do with me. While there were parts I’d enjoyed, I’d been serious when I’d said I didn’t ever want to be a cop again, so it didn’t really matter one way or another. I also knew from her tone that Mom would keep arguing if I kept saying no.

“I’ll think about it,” I said instead.

She knew that meant no, but she at least let it drop. She tried out a few equally as undesirable employment choices before finally letting the entire topic go and switching to sharing the latest gossip she’d heard from her friends, which is what she always did when Dad and I’d made it clear we weren’t eager to participate in the conversation anymore.

Mom hated eating in silence, and if we weren’t going to join in, then she’d just use us as sounding boards to let her gossip out where it’d do the least harm. I had to give it to her, it was a much more well-adjusted strategy than the ones other housewives had, since Dad and I didn’t really care about the drama and never really spread it beyond the dinner table. It also worked out well for her, since it gave the rest of her friends the impression that she was great at keeping secrets and made her the go-to source for all of their gossip. By now, she had the system finely tuned. When it came to gossip, she was a strategic genius.

The next month was spent just kind of ... existing. I had my severance and, because I was at my parents, wasn’t spending much, although I did feel bad enough about mooching that I chipped in for groceries and was planning on giving Mom some money to help with the bills.

I was getting enough in my severance that I could have afforded rent for my own place, but I was hesitant because the severance would eventually stop and I wanted to have a new job first. Besides, I didn’t want to actually stay here, which made the idea of being locked down to even a six-month lease unappealing.

I’d sent out some resumes to major towns I thought wouldn’t be completely awful to live in, but there hadn’t really been a theme to any of them. I’d applied for a couple of sales jobs that looked like they paid okay, although seemed totally soul crushing, and a few positions where they’d used so much business-speak and were so circumspect that it wasn’t even clear what I’d be doing.

I’d also started looking into coaching jobs in a couple of cities, but so far all the steps I’d have to take before I even applied were causing me to hesitate. Each state had its own licensing for teachers that I’d have to go through to get my teaching certificate and it was late in the semester for public schools, which meant there wouldn’t be an actual job for almost six months. I was saving enough now that even without my severance I would have enough to bridge the gap until I started getting paid, but that meant I’d need to stay here until it was time to move to wherever I got the coaching job, so I didn’t eat through that money in the meantime.

A month of living with my parents as an adult was enough of a hit to my self-esteem, especially with the looks Dad had started giving me, that I didn’t think I could make it that long as a dead beat.

In the end, it was all starting to feel like a trap. I didn’t want to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary, but the absolutely necessary amount of time I’d need to stay here to get a job I was qualified for was longer than I wanted to stay here.

Ultimately, I decided to try and have it all. I picked Texas, which had fairly lax licensing requirements, mostly to try and shorten the process, and applied to a few school districts. I’d worried that, since I didn’t have any experience, I’d have some problems but either they were really hard up for teachers or the combination cop and ex-pro football player looked good on paper, because I’d already had several reach out. Of course, I couldn’t start any of the positions until August at the earliest, which meant I’d need to stay here for four more months.

I also had to get my teacher certification first, which meant studying and doing homework to prepare for the online test I’d have to take. If staying at my parents’ house wasn’t enough of a punch in the ego, doing homework in my childhood bedroom certainly was. I very nearly took a job as a ‘marketing contractor’, that I was pretty sure was actually a scam run out of Africa, just to escape the personal hell I’d found myself in.

After that first night, I only occasionally managed to get out for walks. I wished I could go every night, if only to pretend I wasn’t in my current condition, but each time I was barely able to get out of bed the next morning because my leg hurt so badly. I’d then spend the next week babying my leg so I could start moving around again until it started feeling almost normal, or as normal as it did while still recovering from the surgery. As soon as it felt back to normal, I’d go back out for another walk, and start the cycle all over again.

I mostly confined my walks to Main Street, maybe stopping to eat at one of the local places or drink at the Hole in the Wall, but tonight I decided to range a bit further. The longer I stayed in my old house, and in my old room, the more nostalgic I felt for the old days. After my weekly lecture from Mom about why I shouldn’t go out walking and how I’d just end up in pain for a week, I drove past Main Street and turned down Oak Ridge towards the high school.

The rush of memories and emotions as I pulled into the parking lot was a little overwhelming. A lot of the town might have changed, but the school was exactly as I remembered it. Parking, I got out and walked up to the fence that separated the football field, looking at where I’d had some of the greatest nights of my life. I could almost hear the cheers of the crowds and see the lights shining down on a Friday night.

I couldn’t help but laugh at myself, standing here, reliving my glory days while still living in my childhood home. I was a caricature of the high school jock that peaked in high school and then burned out. All that was left was to get a job flipping burgers and I’d be ready to become a living cautionary tale.

Shaking my head at the state of things, I turned and hobbled away from the field, back towards the parking lot. I thought it might be a nice change to see all this again, but now that I was here, it just amped up the negative feelings I’d had. I was almost to my car when I looked across the street at the small strip center where we’d spent so much time. There was the florist that seemed to make its money selling corsages and homecoming mums to college kids, a small bookstore that I don’t think I’d ever stepped foot in, and a little coffee place where we used to go and get pastries and drinks after school.

Or that was what should have been there. It looked exactly the same, except the sign had changed. Instead of ‘the coffee spot’ sign that had called kids for years, the sign now just said ‘Rosita’s.’ I stood by the car for a moment, trying to work out if they were still a coffee spot when I saw someone come out with a brown bag that looked like it had fast food in it and get into the only car in the parking lot.

Mom was making cabbage and potato soup, which I loathed, and I was curious, so I decided to hobble my way across the street and see what had become of my favorite high school hangout.

As soon as I pushed through the door, I could smell tacos. I’d been to enough bodegas and small taco stands in New York City that I was intimately familiar with the smells, and this seemed to be a particularly good version of it.

What I could see of the restaurant wasn’t that much different from when it had been a coffee place, which I guess wasn’t that surprising considering what they had to work with.

“Hello,” the woman behind the counter said.

She was clearly not from West Virginia, which in a small town like this, made her unusual. She had jet black hair, a dark tan complexion, and a very noticeable accent I’d heard many times before.