In the Lone and Level Sands (2 page)

“Pretty much,” Larry said. “So Mal’s got her recital
tonight, right?”

“Yeah. I’m excited to see her, but I have to sit
next to the ex. She thinks if I don’t sit with her, I didn’t
come.”

“Women. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without
‘em!” Larry laughed.

“I just want things to be better.”

“No kidding.”

The elevator made a
ding!
and the door
opened.

“Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Evan said.

“Yeah, sure, unless I get ‘sick.’” Larry winked.

Evan stepped out of the elevator, walking backwards.
“Yeah, right! You’d better be here! You’re the only one who keeps
me going!” Larry laughed. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” Larry said.

Evan ran to his car and jumped in. He had forty-five
minutes to get to the Belmont, park, get inside, and find
Cynthia.

On the way, the traffic was surprisingly relenting.
Evan was able to blaze down the streets of Chicago fairly easily.
Soon he could see the big, round, brick building in the
distance.

Evan found a spot, parked the car, and followed the
walkway to the front of the building. People flowed through the
doors. Evan’s shoes clicked on the tile floor as he rushed toward
the recital room.

An old woman with a smile on her face was handing
out programs. Evan took one and headed into the theater. It was
fairly crowded; he couldn’t see Cynthia, but he felt his cell phone
vibrate furiously in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered.

“I’m in the room, Cynthia!” He rolled his eyes and
sighed.

“Over here,” she said. She stood up and waved her
hand.

Evan tried the best he could to make his way through
the crowd. He almost tripped on a purse lying in the aisle. The
owner grabbed it, and smiled. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Evan said. “I should have watched where
I was going.” He hurried off, turned right, carefully traversed
half of the row, and sat down next to Cynthia.

“Thank God you’re here! I was—”

“You know what?” Evan said. “Let’s just not get into
this now. This night is about Mal, not us.”

Cynthia sighed. There wasn’t a word between them for
a few minutes, then Evan looked at his watch.

“About five minutes,” he said.

“Yeah. Mallorie is so excited about tonight. She’s
been counting it down on her calendar, crossing off the days since
February.”

“I know she’ll do great.”

Evan and Cynthia sat quietly, waiting for the
curtain to rise.

3

Among Friends

On the morning of the 21
^st
, Jordan had
fried eggs and a big bowl of Frosted Flakes as the news was blaring
out of the television. Across from him sat his father, who was also
eating a bowl of cereal, his tape recorder resting on the table
beside it. The two of them rarely talked during their morning
ritual (except for when his dad had an idea and logged it into the
recorder), but they enjoyed each other’s company.

Jordan listened when the weatherman came on, since
he planned on hitting the pool with his friends. The weatherman
promised sunny, clear skies for the rest of the week. Jordan
smiled. He needed some sort of fun to balance out his upcoming
shift at the Ferrington Grocery.

It was a quarter to noon when Jordan hopped into his
car and went to meet his friends at the Gladstone Pool.

****

Ashley Stant stood in her pink and white polka-dot
bikini on the wet cement by the pool. She waved her arms in the air
and cried out to Jordan, who was enjoying the cool water. Jordan
didn’t respond, so she called to him again.

“Hey, Jordan!”

Jordan launched from beneath the water, sending a
wave over the lip of the pool.

“Yeah?”

Ashley beckoned to him. Jordan breaststroked toward
the edge of the pool and heaved himself out of the water.

“I’m getting hungry. I’ll probably get some food
from the snack bar. I’m sure you’d like something?”

“Sure!” Jordan stood there looking down at Ashley,
excess water cascading down their bodies. “Do the guys want
anything?”

“They went without us.” Ashley laughed and a snort
came out. She always snorted when she laughed hard enough. It made
her self-conscious, but Jordan thought it was kind of cute, and it
made him laugh as well.

“Sounds just like ‘em,” Jordan said. “Let’s go.”

After getting their food, Jordan and Ashley headed
for the sitting area. It didn’t take more than a second for Jordan
to spot the bright red-and-blue towel draped over Drew’s shoulder,
and Aiden waving them over.

“Guess you guys just couldn’t wait for us.” Jordan
set his tray on the table and sat down. His wet swim trunks smacked
against the plastic chair.

“Not a chance!” Aiden said, then chomped down on the
last bite of his hotdog. He grabbed for his chips and dug around in
the bag.

“Men need a solid meal after a mad swim,” Drew said.
“You can’t really expect us to wait.” He sucked at his straw; it
made a dry, annoying sucking sound, so he set the cup back on the
table.

“Fuck, I really don’t want to work tonight.” Jordan
sighed. A calm, warm breeze wafted over him and his friends. It
felt good against their bare skin.

“Then don’t,” Aiden said. He found that rather
funny, as he found just about everything he said. His laugh was
infectious, and Jordan followed it.

“You know, Aiden, that idea’s not half bad,” he
said.

“Hey, you know me,” Aiden said. “Just lending my
helping hand.” He raised his eyebrow, still grinning.

Jordan frowned and said, “I don’t want your helping
hand anywhere
near
me.”

“Ew!” Ashley said. “That’s nasty!”

Drew laughed loudly, and that got Aiden going again.
Ashley didn’t find it as amusing; she just returned to her meal and
shook her head.

“What time you gotta be there?” Drew leaned his
chair back, gripping the table with one hand to keep his
balance.

“It’s a four to ten shift. My favorite.” Jordan
rolled his eyes.

“That blows,” Aiden said. “At least you got to chill
with your best buds first, and… Ashley.” He laughed.

“Hey!” Ashley said, but was mostly drowned out when
Drew added his laughter to Aiden’s. Jordan laughed as well, but it
was forced. He was all for laughing it up with his buddies, but
when it came to Ashley, it was different. He looked at Ashley and
smiled, and she smiled back.

****

The grandfather clock chimed through the house. It
was just loud enough that Jordan heard it over his music as he
cherished the few lingering minutes before he had to get ready for
his shift at the Ferrington,
Where quality products and customer
service come together!

That motto had been beaten into the employees’
heads, but Jordan didn’t really care one way or another about it.
It was only a job. He planned on being something more than a
grocery store slave one day.

When the song was over, Jordan took his ear buds out
and went to get ready for work.

He decided to wear his white dress shirt. Overlaying
that was a red and white striped tie. Jordan styled his hair,
brushed his teeth, and gathered everything he needed from the
nightstand before heading for the bedroom door.

Jordan’s mother was in the kitchen making dinner.
She had the television up with the Food Network on.

Jordan twirled his keys by the ring and said, “What
are you making for dinner, Mom?”

“Meatloaf tonight, hon. What time do you get off?”
She turned around and headed into the living room. A strong,
pleasant smell wafted from the oven.

“Ten.”

“Well, I’ll make sure we save you some. I know how
much you like my meatloaf.”

Jordan smiled. “The dinner of champions!”

“Anything with meat in it is ‘the dinner of
champions.’” She laughed.

“Very true.” Jordan popped his neck.

“How can you
do
that?”

“Just can. It feels good to me. Relieves
stiffness.”

“Hey, don’t forget to take those bottles, and don’t
break them on your way there.” Jordan’s mother took a seat on the
couch as Jordan went for the bottles. There were three of them
sitting in a row on the table. Jordan collected them by their
handles, and they clanged softly when they bumped into each
other.

“Have a good day at work. Love you!”

“Heh, yeah,” Jordan said. “I’ll try.”

I can’t wait for some of that meatloaf,
Jordan thought as he left the house and made for the car. It was
parked on the curb, as usual. He opened the passenger door and set
the bottles on the floorboard. They clanged against each other as
if in protest of being returned. When Jordan sat down in the
driver’s seat, his phone emitted a polyphonic sample of a Taking
Back Sunday song. He took the phone out and smiled at the sight of
a text from Ashley.

I’m going to the store later tonight. See you there…
you should check me out too. I’ll wait in your line all night if I
have to.

Jordan was about to respond when the phone buzzed
and played the tone again. The message this time was a winking
face. He pressed the button to reply.

Sounds good! See ya later.

Jordan put the phone on silent and slipped it back
into his pocket. The keys jingled as he lifted them to the
ignition. Jordan took a pair of shades from a dashboard cubby and
slipped them on.

Pretty soon, Jordan turned onto the main road where
the Ferrington waited. As he cruised along, he took a lazy glance
at the front of the building. Big curvy green letters displayed the
name of the store against the sand-colored bricks. On the far left
side were smaller green letters spelling out
PHARMACY,
and
on the other end the wall read
FOOD
. Two electric-eye doors
marked each main entrance. While pulling up to the south side of
the parking lot, Jordan watched as customers casually entered the
north and south doors of the store.

Jordan yielded to a person who was getting a running
start to ride their cart down the lane of cars. Afterward, he
turned into the employee parking lot, found a spot close to the
front, and parked his car. He grabbed the milk bottles, locked the
doors, and headed toward the side entrance, near the drive-up
lane.

Jordan passed an elderly woman on the way to the
service counter. She waved, her face lit up with a smile, and she
mouthed the word
hi
. Jordan gave a little wave and smile in
return. The store director passed briskly by Jordan. His name tag
flashed under the bright store lighting. It read
JOHN
, and
in smaller print was his last name, Kensington. John didn’t
acknowledge Jordan as Jordan approached the counter.

“Jordan,” the young woman at the counter, Erin
Baker, said in a lively voice. “How are you doing?”

“Not bad, I guess.” He put the bottles on the
counter. “Just got some bottles to return before I work today.”

“Boy, you sure drink this stuff like there’s no
tomorrow,” Erin said with a smirk on her face. She couldn’t have
been older than twenty-five.

“Yep!” Jordan felt a hint of blood rushing to his
cheeks. Erin pulled the bottles closer to her and poked at the
nearby screen. The beeps the register emitted were like daggers
piercing Jordan’s temples. Those incessant beeps often induced
headaches during his shifts at the Ferrington.

“Here’s $4.50 for the bottles.” Erin held out the
cash, a bright smile on her face, and Jordan took it. He thanked
her, then headed toward the stairs to the offices.

Upstairs the hall was just as brightly lit. Not even
the tiniest shadow entered the Ferrington, and every box of cereal,
every can of soup, every banana was brightly illuminated. This was
another contributor to Jordan’s common headaches.

Jordan slid his shades off and bent down so he could
access his cubby. He opened the beaten-up metal door labeled
25
, set the glasses inside, and closed the
cubby before heading over to the time clock. Near that was the
office of the assistant store director. From inside the room,
Jordan could hear the slow whirring of a printer. As he punched in,
the front-end manager’s voice boomed from the intercom.

“Ed Malone, check please. Ed, check.”

Jordan made sure he had everything in order, then
took the steps down into the bustling grocery store, hoping for a
nice, steady, painless-as-possible night.

4

At the Carnival

“Max, don’t fall behind!” Andrew, Max’s dad,
said.

Max hadn’t noticed his family was several yards
ahead of him. He had been focused on the scale of the carnival. It
didn’t come to town often, but when it did, it was a family
adventure.

Max felt that at sixteen years, he was getting to be
a little old for carnivals. The once-massive Ferris wheel was now
meagerly sized, the clowns no longer amusing, the cotton candy now
just colored strings of sugar. He could only begin to imagine how
August, his sister of eighteen, felt. Still, family was family, and
his had always stressed togetherness.

Max jogged to catch up with the others: His mother,
Margaret, and his two younger siblings, Tim and Julie. Even though
Julie was ten years old and Tim was eight, both required constant
supervision, according to Max’s parents.

In actuality, they didn’t. None of the children did.
They never wandered off and never got into trouble. Still,
togetherness
. Everyone watched out for each other.

The family proceeded through the line together,
Andrew bought all of their tickets together, they passed through
the turnstiles in a single-file line and then regrouped on the
other side together.

The carnival grounds were teeming with excited
people, all contained within the same fenced area, waiting in long
lines for their brief moments as the lucky ones who were actually
on the rides before being let off and sent to wait in other
lines.