Lucille

            I’d just parked my truck at the Toledo Pilot Truck Depot.  I had a piece of pie at the diner, scored some speed in the men’s restroom and headed across the street to the bar.  I told myself I’d wait before I got on the road to smoke, but I couldn’t wait.  I went into the bathroom, took the light bulb out, and used my torch lighter to get high.  Once I was spinning again, I went back out the bar. 

            I was now on super prowl for anything a fight, a grift, a chick, anything.  That’s when I saw her across the room, she took off her ring and I knew it was easy prey.  I pulled up my Levis, tucked in my flannel shirt, sauntered over, and sat down beside her on the empty wobbly stool, unsure if it was the seat, or the legs, so I leaned over closer to her.

            “What’s your name darling?”  I said.  She took to my Tennessee twang like they all do.

            “Lucille.”  She said.  I bought us a round of whiskey, she swallowed it down like a pro.  The lights, although dim, seemed fluorescent.  Her skin was pale and I could see my veins through my own, my hands were clammy too.

            “Bartender, can we get another round?” I said and indicated to double her’s up.  The drinks were starting to hit her.

            “You know what?”  She slurred at me.  I didn’t know what.  “I’m no quitter.”  She said and slammed her drink down. 

            “You don’t look like a quitter, Lucille.”  I said.  Dear God, I hate a quitter.  I was reminded though, that I was not high enough.  I excused myself and went back to the bathroom.  The light bulb I’d used earlier was smashed.  Probably some other angry trucker pissed that I got to it first.  I was forced to do a line off the back of the toilet.  I let the burn pass, my eyes welling up, thinking of that song from Evita – “Don’t cry for me Argentina…I did my best for you, not good enough for you…” When my eyes stopped watering, I went to the sink and slicked back my hair, and moused down my beard.

            I came back and sat beside her again, I’d already forgotten her name.  I had to ask her again. 

            “Lucille.”  She said, she kept her smile. 

            “How could I forget?” I said and ordered more whiskey.

            “You know what Kenny?” She put her hand on my cold hand, then pulled it away with a strange look.  She was a beauty, I’m sure my eyes bulged from staring at her.  “I’m hungry for laughter.”  She said.  “And here,” She pointed her index finger into the bar.  “Ever after,” she slurred adorably.  “I’m after whatever the other life brings.”  She was not going to make it through the night at this point.  I offered her the other life and she asked me what to do, I told her to go in the ladies room to cut a line, a very very small line up, smash it good and then snort it and got a straw and cut it with my hunting knife for her. 

            She toppled daintily off her bar stool, walked past the gawkers at the pool table and went in the restroom.  She came back a minute later with mascara down her face. 

            “We’re you crying?” I asked her.

            “Oh no, but my eyes watered something horrible after doing that!”  She exclaimed.  I realized I’d forgotten to tell her it tastes like shit and burns like hell.

            With my keen sight from many a night up truck driving and watching out for possible road kill and dangerous traffic conditions as well as paying attention to steep downhills I saw him in the mirror.  He looked out of place, like a migrant farmer of some sort.  She was rubbing her nose frantically, using cocktail napkins to stop the forward drip, I whispered that she needed to suck some snot back and she nodded and did her best to do it without making a scene, but it was already preparing itself as he walked over to this woman, fuck, what was her name?  He had a strange look on his face, I can’t quite describe it.  I noticed his hands were callous, and he was as tall as a mountain, fuck, I thought, we’re gonna get in a fight and I’ll be dead for sure.  My skinny ass and this fucker – twice my size and a labor type guy.  Should I go to my truck and CB for help?

            Then, I noticed, he was shaking.  This big lugs heart was breaking.  He turned to the woman, fuck what was her name? 

            He said, “You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille.”  She stared defiantly straight into the mirror that lined the wall ahead of her.  “Four hungry children and a crop in the field.”  Did he just say four hundred children?  No, he couldn’t have.  “I’ve had some bad times, I’ve even lived through some sad times with you, but this time, you bitch, you’re hurting won’t heal.”  I was beginning to think that this wasn’t her first time at the rodeo.

            After he left us, I ordered more whiskey.  She slugged it down again, this time unaffected.

            “You sure made him look small.”  I uttered.  Then a damning silence came between us and there was no sleep to be had for either of us now.  She picked up her purse, and I stood up and walked with her through the lights of the bar room, to that Circle 8 off I-75.  We walked without saying a word.

            I got the key for the room, she waited outside smoking a menthol.  We walked to the end of the walk way and I opened the door to a musty room.  There were no words between us, when the door closed, we fucked like rabbits. 

            She was on top of me, practically screaming yee haw and when she came to me, I think she thought I’d lost my mind but sometimes when I’m spun all I can do is think about one damn thing over and over and over and over again and all I could hear was that man say how she’d picked a fine time to leave him, with four hundred children.  I checked her for stretch marks, but she had very few.

            She was a beauty and even after she came to me, I couldn’t hold her, because those fucked up words that he told her, kept coming back time after time.

            Four hundred children?  Did they adopt?  Was it slave labor?  I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.  What a whore.  I bet they all had different Dad’s.  She got up to use the restroom.  I pulled back on my Levis, I’d never taken off my flannel or hat for that matter.  While she was in there, I decided it was best to go back to the depot and hit the road.  I’d call my friends on the CB and wish I had a monkey named BJ and well, shit a woman with four hundred children was more than I wanted to deal with.