“Mama!” She smiled and ran to me. Honestly, it was a boost of serotonin I didn’t know I needed. I scooped her up and held her tight. “I missed you so much!” She had taken to saying this lately, even if I was just in the other room.
“I missed you too,” I said, looking into her deep brown eyes, the same shade as mine. “Let’s clean up so we can go eat dinner, okay?”
We started disassembling the game into the box and Dolly told me about the snack they ate during group. “It was like pasgetti,” she said, mispronouncing spaghetti once again. It always made me smile and I was already nostalgic about how one day she’d stop saying it in her Dolly way and never say it like that again. “But it was big fat pasgetti, and it was white cheese.”
“Oh, nice,” I say. I was too tired to try and decode her meaning. I just allow her to share until we closed the MouseTrap box and she put it back on the shelf with the other board games.
I waved goodbye to the King Kong, and took Dolly’s hand as we walked out of The Center.
It was a warm night, but cooler with sun set. “Are you hungry? Do you want dinner?” I asked.
“No,” she told me, “but I want a snack or a treat.”
We walked home, and I was hit with gratitude for this small town. Pine Grove was gentle and soft. The kind of place I felt safe walking my daughter home in the evening. There were some drawbacks to such a small town, sure. Everyone knew everyone, and if you wanted something from a chain store you’d have to drive out of town or wait for snail mail. But there were so many positives too; like, everyone knew everyone. There was a certain pressure to that, but a comfort too. It was a real community, something big cities had abandoned. It was nice to be able to raise Dolly somewhere safe. All I needed was some stability, and I felt like Pine Grove was the place to find it.
Chapter Two
Nikki
It was a Thursday night, and the bowling league teams were on the verge of another cataclysmic showdown. The PinUp Dolls and the I Can’t Believe it’s not Gutter teams were tied, both with abysmal scores per usual. Both teams were primarily made up of folks who could order off the senior menu. Pin Up Dolls was a team of trans women, and I Can’t Believe It’s Not Gutter were elderly drag queens.
I turned on the overheard speaker. After the tritone -ding ding ding- I spoke into the microphone. “Reminder to allbowlers: this is a fun family-friendly place. Let’s keep the drama in the lanes, and our mouths and balls out of the gutter!”
When I turn off the mic my current playlist resumed with Sabrina Carpenter’s voice serenading the alley once more. As the manager of Lucky Lanes Bowling Alley, I had the pleasure of curating the music, and I tried and update the playlist monthly.
There was a child crying over spilt popcorn by Lane 8. I grabbed a fresh bag, a broom, and a standing dustpan before walking over.
The little girl was more like a toddler than child, couldn’t have been more than two years old in a little ruffle dress and soft-soled shoes. Her tuft of brown hair made her look like Pebbles Flintstone. I squatted down to her level, “Hey there sweetie, there’s no crying in bowling!” I held out the new bag of popcorn and Pebbles shrieked in excitement, the previous heartbreak forgotten. Her parents smiled and thanked me and I swiftly swept up the mess.
I walked back over to the shoe check out counter. As I put the broom and dustpan away, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirrored wall behind the counter. My chopped black hair curled naturally at the ends, but there was a piece of it sticking up in the back. I worked my fingers through it, trying to get it to cooperate. I had short hair to make maintenance easier. A faulty plan, apparently.
I went to put away some cleaning supplies and found a couple playing their own seven minutes in Heaven. The young men apologized and rushed out. I shook my head. It was a common occurrence here. “Get Lucky at Lucky Lanes” was practically town lore. I needed to put a new lock on this closet, but it didn’t matter. We’ve found couples in storage closets, in the bathrooms, one time even behind the wall where pins were reset. Most of the time, people made out in their cars in the parkinglot in the dark. I didn’t really get it, there’s a racetrack outside of town that would be a better make out spot, but what do I know?
The rest of the night shift slowed down after the bowling leagues finished their game. I Can’t Believe It’s Not Gutter pulled through with a small lead at the last minute. I locked the doors and flipped our “open” sign to “closed”.
“Hey, Selena,” I called out to my coworker. She was a reliable worker, just graduated high school at the top of her class. “Can you spray the shoes while I count the cash drawer?”
Selena came over from where she had just finished up cleaning the popcorn machine. “Sure,” she said, “Can I talk to you a minute?” She was wearing her work shirt, just like mine. The collar stiff and sharp, a black base with cream and maroon stripes on the right, and three bowling pins embroidered on the left where a breast pocket would be. I knew the back of the shirt had the building silhouette on it with the tagline “Lucky Lanes: Roll with it or Split”.
The company uniform policy required the work shirt and pants and close toed shoes, but everyone was allowed a certain level of personal expression. For me, it was my silver chain on my cargo pants, and of course my tattoos. For Selene, it was the embroidered flowers on the hem of her pants.
“Of course,” I said.
“So you know how I applied to Yale?” She looked nervous, her eyes downcast and her fingers fiddling with a popping fidget toy on her belt loop. I nodded for her to continue. “Well I was accepted to an early start bridge program that would have me start this summer. I’d be able to connect with my cohort before the fall and get used to campus, and I can even have priority access to enrollment and special study rooms.”
“I’m so happy for you! That’s exciting as shit!”
Selena beamed, “Thanks, I’m really excited.”
“You should be! You’ve worked hard to get here.” I cocked my head to the side. “So, this summer, huh?”
“Yeah, I know I was supposed to stay through the summer, but this is a really good opportunity. I know I’m supposed to put in two weeks’ notice, but they want me there next week-” she started to ramble, picking up speed. I stopped her by raising my hand.
“Nope, sorry, you can’t quit.”
Selena’s mouth gaped open in shock.
“You can’t quit because I have to fire you,” I said. “You’ve done nothing wrong, it’s just that Lucky Lanes is going in a new direction.”
