“Wow. Shit.” I shoot a text to my personal trainer, apologizing for missing our session this morning. “I guess I needed sleep.”
“Me too.”
I appreciate that there’s no awkwardness this morning. I wasn’t sure how she would be toward me. Retreat was expected. She seems softer than I’ve ever seen.
“Thanks for letting me stay here. And for last night.”
“You’re welcome. And my pleasure.” My ears burn hot. You’d think I’d never kissed a pretty girl before.
She comes around the bar to where I sit. She walks between my legs and wraps her arms around my shoulders, giving me a hug. Who would have thought of her as the cuddly, touchy type? I’m not complaining. I hug her back and take a deep inhale. She smells amazing.
“I feel really good this morning. I feel good about tonight too.” She smiles and I can’t help but reflect one back. “I can feel it. I’m gonna get something on Zebulund. I’ll bring him down.”
A twinge of anxiety tweaks the back of my mind. All the other stuff was set aside since last night. I had only been thinking about us. My love-struck feelings took over meanwhile, she’s just as focused as ever. Miss Mayday after all.
“Good. I hope so too.”
She hugs me again and my chest constricts without understanding why.
“Roe, why is it so important to you to save this company?” The question seems so out of the blue, the truth spills out.
“This factory employs the whole town I grew up in. Almost everybody. If it goes under, then my whole town will die.”
“But that’s not on your shoulders. People will move and find new jobs. It’s not your job to make sure a whole town flourishes.”
I shift in the chair. She’s effectively trapped me in my seat though, so I can’t move away. I clear my throat.
“I guess it feels like it is. I, um, I’m the biggest success that town has had and I owe them my whole life.”
I’m hot under my shirt. Her eyes shift between mine, looking too hard.
“But why? I don’t think all people from small towns feel like this.”
I scratch my eyebrow. Why is talking about this so hard? Maggie has shared a lot with me. She’s let me touch her. I'm touching her now. We’re light-years from where we were just a few days ago. Why is the truth so hard to offer?
“When I was younger the factory shut down. It was a different manufacturer then. So many people lost their jobs. My family was hit extra hard because my mom and dad both worked there. They had me, my brother, and sister. John and I were teenagers, eating all the time.”
“That’s awful.” Her face frowns with concern.
“Yeah.” I look down. She grabs my hands in hers and links our fingers. “Well, we were poor.” I can’t share the truth of it. We were destitute. Some weeks the only times I ate were the meals at school. I couldn’t tell her I went to bed hungry. How the pain of that haunts me. How, when we did eat, everything was powdered and processed. Cheap.
“Anyway, many of the people around town helped our family. They didn’t have much themselves but they always found a way to help us. Even got my parents some work. My dad hurt his back in the factory so he couldn’t do much manual labor, but people paid him to do small jobs here and there, and the school had my mom work in the lunch room.”
I didn’t tell her how my mom would sneak home food that kids threw away and sometimes that was dinner. When I see canned corn or cheap cheese pizza, my stomach burns with acid.
“That’s amazing. I can’t imagine living in a town like that. Where everybody looks out for each other. I think that’s great that you’re helping them.”
“It’s getting worse. The factory isn’t making money. I can’t keep up like this. Even with the money I’m making it’s not enough, and now with the missing money and everything else. It’s draining out too fast. A whole town can’t live off my checks.”
“We’ll figure it out, okay?” She rubs her thumb between my eyes, forcing my face to relax a little.
“Okay.” For the first time, a little weight eases from my chest.
“I promise. There’re few things in life I desire more than justice. What’s happening to you isn’t fair or right. I’ll have all my resources help me. I’ll get into places and see what’s going on. We’re really close to something, I can feel it.”
Something big is coming but it doesn’t feel good. It feels ominous.
21
