My flip-flops snap with every aggressive step I take through the warehouse, and I start breathin’ deeply and countin’ my exhales in seconds just like my daddy taught me when I was young.
Don’t react, Medley. She ain’t worth it.
“You may think you’re hot shit, missy, with your cotton candy green hair and your short shorts, but you’re nothin’, always have been and always will be. Nothin’ but no-good, dropout, trailer trash.”
I spin on my heel, ready to dole out a little tongue lashin’ of my own and show Patty that I’m done with her shit, but just then, I spot a familiar face past the conveyor belts, and a different plan forms.
I let a smile spread across my face, ignorin’ Patty’s pursed lips and cantankerous glare. “Hey there, Bob Grace!” I call out with a wave.
Patricia goes rigid, and her head snaps in the direction of the person she’s practically pissed a circle around. Yet the man doesn’t want her. The forty-somethin’ mechanic looks over from where he’s standin’ by the bulletin board, takin’ notes on his tablet of all the truck stats to see what repairs and checks he needs to do. When he sees me, his face splits into a grin. “Well, hey there, Medley.”
I can practically feel Patricia vibratin’ with enough anger to shake a tectonic plate. Oh yeah, this is way better than any swear word or cut down I could ever throw her way.
“How you doin’?” Bob asks.
“Oh, you know, just gettin’ fired,” I joke, and his happy expression falters, his eyes skatin’ over to Patricia. I walk over to him, a little extra swing in my hips, and Patricia stomps after me, makin’ sure that when we stop, she’s a step closer to him than I am.
“How are things lookin’, Bob?” she asks, all friendly smiles.
“Um, just fine,” he says before his attention comes right back to me. That pisses Patricia off even more, and my smile grows wider. “I’m sorry to hear that, Medley. You need anythin’?”
“I’ll be alright,” I assure him before I give him a slight pat on the shoulder. A nice friendly pat, nothin’ scandalous, since I don’t actually like Bob, but the touch alone will have Patricia seethin’ for weeks.
“You’ll be missed around here, Medley, that’s for sure,” Bob offers kindly.
“I’ll be sure to keep in touch, don’t you worry,” I tell him, and I know that statement will have Patricia up at night, wonderin’ if my whorin’ ways are robbin’ her of the man of her dreams.
Game, set, match, bitch.
“Y’all have a nice day, now,” I chirp, like I’m dipped all in sugar, and then with a wave and a wink for good measure, I leave the nasty forked-tongued Patricia in my wake as I walk through the open bay doors and head for my Jeep.
I let out the tense breath in my chest when I get into my Jeep and shut the door behind me, takin’ a moment to calm myself. With sweaty hands, I start the engine, lookin’ in the rearview mirror once more at the place that ran me ragged and just spat me out.
I should be glad that I’m free of the place, that I never have to subject myself to Patricia and her venomous ways again, but instead, her words cling to my sides like the barbed stinger of a bee.
“You’re nothin’, always have been and always will be.”
Well, damn if that doesn’t just call to my deepest worries and insecurities and invite them to come out and dance, robbin’ me of my brave and makin’ me feel vulnerable.
It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, and in this moment, I’m terrified it won’t be the last.
I put the Jeep in gear and start the drive back toward my parents’ house. Maybe it’s time I sever whatever hold this town has on me and move on. There has to be more out there for me than shitty jobs that pay too little, men who can’t love enough, and tribulations that sneak up on me when I least expect it.
I turn my A/C off and roll down my windows as I decide to take my sweet time and use the back roads to get home. The wind coaxes my hair to tickle my face before ridin’ the current back behind me, and soon, the rush of air all around drowns out my contentious thoughts. I hum along to Garth Brooks’s “Ain’t Goin’ Down” on the radio and try to not think about what’s next.
The turn that will take me home is comin’ up, and for a moment, I’m tempted to drive past it. Maybe I’ll drive out to that bar and see if I can piece together what happened. But just as soon as that thought starts to bloom in my mind, I swat it away.
Retracin’ my steps before a tribulation hit has never helped before. And just in case someone is lookin’ for me to even whatever score I may have started last night, or to drop a bill for damage at my feet, it’s better to stay away. By some miracle, I managed to drop my work truck off and find my way home, so I’ll just be grateful for that and keep on movin’. I can’t have done anythin’ too bad if it wasn’t on the news, right?
I take the turn that leads home, chucklin’ at the sign at the entrance for the Sunshine Trailer Park that now has the word sunshine crossed out with fresh spray paint and a more festive shithole sprayed underneath. Changin’ the name of that sign is like a rite of passage in this town. I wonder if we’ll ever see a day where the owner just gives up and lets the vandalism be.
There are so many cameras and floodlights on that
