Tag Archives: fiction

In The Middle

Emily sat in the middle seat in row 26 of flight 945 from Seattle. It was the kind of flight that wasn’t too long or too turbulent. It was just one of those flights that kept you from sleeping and somehow got you completely untucked. It was Friday night and she was on her way home to Minneapolis after a long week of crisis management with her biggest client. The crisis was averted, she was good at that part of her life. 

She wondered why no one ever spoke to her on airplanes. She would see people chatting often but it never involved her. Not even when she sat in the middle seat – as she was so lucky to do today. There was a middle-aged man in the window seat, reading a book. The aisle seat was occupied by a young woman in her mid 20’s who was on her phone for the entire flight. They were sitting so close together that they shared armrests and recycled air but they were so consumed by what they were doing and so not interested in her that she could have died unnoticed somewhere over Montana. 

This thought was only slightly less depressing than what she had planned for the rest of her evening. She came off that jet-way a couple times a month with the hope of a friendly face yelling her name, smiling, waving. It had never happened before and today would be no different.  Not only was there no one at the gate to meet her but she had to dodge a couple engaged in enthusiastic PDA. She considered running her roller wheels over the slobbering couples’ exposed toes just for sport but she didn’t even think that would make her feel better. Maybe a little? She walked away from Gate D4 with a heavy heart and sore feet. “What the hell kind of shoes are these? I’ve been sitting for hours and then I take a few steps again and my feet are killing me.” She stopped suddenly, walking and thinking. Did she just say that out loud? No one was looking at her so maybe not.

She rounded the corner and went up the incline to head out through the main terminal. She happened to look down the escalator to the baggage claim and wondered why the hell anyone would check their bags. Just then she ran into some jerk on a cell phone who wasn’t paying attention – or maybe she wasn’t paying attention – neither one apologized. She walked on and decided to check her voicemail. She was hopeful that it would be full of offers for a fun weekend. She flipped open her phone, hit speed dial, entered her code and heard that monotone woman’s voice level an insult at her “you have no new messages.” “Bitch!” She definitely said that out loud and a few heads turned. It had gotten much quieter in the skyway to the parking ramp than it was in the main terminal. She walked out of the skyway to the spot where she had parked her car and it was filled by an enormous SUV. “God Dammit,” she said even louder than her outburst at the voicemail lady. This surprised a passerby who glared at her because she was a blasphemer. “I always park on this floor in Green.” She continued to think aloud. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a Gold reminder ticket and remembered that she couldn’t find a spot in Green so she ended up in Gold. 

She finally got to her car without any more talking – or swearing – out loud. Her car was one of the few things about her life that she truly loved. She deactivated the alarm and opened the doors, the beeps made by the car were converted to “hi, I missed you” in her lonely brain. It almost felt like a hug as she settled into the soft leather seats, adjusted climate control and hit play on one of her favorite CD’s. The roads were empty on Friday night and as her key hit the lock at home, for a split second, she dreamed that someone could be waiting for her on the other side with a meal and a glass of wine. Or, a mess in the living room and music playing too loud? She would have even settled for some lights on or a broken water pipe. That’s how lonely she was. But, of course when she walked in, everything was just as she’d left it. Sigh. She was tired so she got into bed, drifted off to sleep and settled into a dream about finding love.

Something in the water

Tom was nervous. This was his first job after all. Oscar’s farm was right down the road and helping him take care of the cows and mend fences didn’t seem too bad but he just didn’t know what to expect. Tom loved the farm and after his family lost their land and animals and had an auction, it just didn’t feel the same at home. So, this was a way for him to stay connected and maybe make a few bucks too. Tom was a little scared of Oscar. Not scared for his life scared but just the way you’d be scared of a stray animal or of flying for the first time. He’d seen him around, at church and at the cafe in town, and he was always grumpy. He also walked with a limp, maybe he always had it or maybe he just wasn’t as spry as he used to be.

Tom’s dad dropped him off right after lunch because Oscar had a few hours of work to do but as he put it, he “didn’t want to feed the boy.” Oscar met them in the driveway when they pulled in and Tom’s dad motioned for him to hop out of the truck and then he backed out and drove off. I guess this is it, thought Tom to himself. His thoughts were interrupted by Oscar’s gruff voice, “Did you bring some gloves? We’re working with barbed wire and it will tear up your hands.” Of course Tom had not brought gloves. Oscar just looked at him disappointedly and shook his head. He walked towards the barn and before Tom knew it, a pair of gloves came flying at him. They were about 8 sizes too big but he put them on anyway.

They walked out to the pasture right past the cows. Tom had been around cows before but never up this close. As if he wasn’t nervous enough about today. He didn’t think that cows ate humans but they were certainly big enough to squish him like a bug. They didn’t, they just moved out of the way as he and Oscar walked by – maybe they were scared of him too.

After tugging on wire and holding it so Oscar could pound new staples into old wooden posts for what seemed like a hundred years. Oscar broke the silence and said, “Are you thirsty? It’s hotter than hell out here.” Tom answered “yea” skittishly. Oscar dropped his tools and started walking towards the barn. In Tom’s mind, he thought they would head inside for some lemonade and cookies. No luck. They stopped at the huge stock tank that the cows drank out of. It looked bad. It had some stuff floating on the top of the water, it was green and really disgusting. That didn’t stop Oscar, he reached for a big metal ladle that was hanging from a nearby post, dipped it into the water, brought it to his lips and took a big sip. Tom thought he would pass out and then Oscar would die. He didn’t take a drink from the tank that day or any other day that summer – he brought a water jug instead. Oscar didn’t die any time soon; in fact he lived to be 102. Maybe just like Carrie Underwood sings, “there must’ve been something in the water.”