Chapter One
The Perfect Time
by
Laura A. Ellison
Chapter One
“Gretchen wants me to go to Montreal with her,” Nell said.
Nell Goosen sat in the driver’s seat of her SUV, the heat on full blast against the bitter cold night. Next to her was Thea and behind her Candy, Nell’s co-workers, eating their fast-food lunch while bundled in their coats, hats, and scarves.
Candy picked through her French fries, shoving two at a time in her mouth. “You should go. You never go anywhere.”
“I go to work. I go shopping. I go home.”
“You take us to lunch,” Thea said. “Next time I get to choose where; this chicken is overcooked. My cooking is better.”
“My cooking is better,” Candy said.
Thea threw her sandwich down in disgust. Her braided weave was covered by a red kerchief tight around her head. At fifty-four, she was the oldest of the three women. She was the mother of four, married for twenty-five years. “You can’t cook for shit.”
Candy giggled. “Helpless in the kitchen, a genius in the bedroom.”
“Is that what Bruce tells you?”
“Bruce who?”
“You dumped Bruce?” Nell asked.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“He couldn’t keep up.”
“Keep up? He’s thirty-four.”
“So what? I’m forty-two and I want it when I want it.”
“He’s probably told Rhonda by now. She knows everything her kids do- “
“He told his mama?” Thea asked.
“Probably. He’s living with Rhonda and my dad again.”
Candy brushed her long bangs away from her forehead. She was a large woman who wore no makeup on her open, homely face; however, she was vain about her leonine blonde hair and her nails, spending money on expensive hair-care products and manicures. Acrylic pink nails with white polka-dots were not practical while working at Harbor Front Industries, but Candy didn’t seem to care.
“The whole time I was with Bruce,” she said, “all he wanted to do was drink beer and smoke weed. He’d plant his fat ass on my couch and expect me to pay for everything. If I’m paying, then he better get it up. He’s a man in his thirties, what is wrong with him?”
“Rhonda told me he still loves his ex,” Nell said, “but Felicia’s not taking him back.”
“Why would she? Dealing with Tayton is enough.”
“Tayton is a younger version of Bruce. Tayton doesn’t call Bruce ‘Dad,’ he calls him Bruce. Such as, ’Hey, Bruce, those are my chicken nuggets.’ That is not okay.”
“Bruce never brought Tayton over. Thank God. I hate kids.”
“So…do you think I should go with Gretchen this weekend?”
“Who is going to check on your mama?” Thea asked.
“Wesley. He’ll be pissed at me, but I don’t care. He’s my brother, he can help. It’s only for three days. Gretchen hasn’t been to a hair show since before Covid. For some reason, she couldn’t find anyone else to go with her.”
Nell self-consciously touched her graying brown hair. She had inherited a widow’s peak from her mother. The bridge of her nose was short, the nostrils small along with her lips and chin. Her brown eyes were bright, dark brows full. She was short, average weight, but she was stronger than she looked, her job physically demanding.
“She wants your hair,” Thea said. “That long, curly brown hair.”
“Don’t let her do anything stupid with it,” Candy said.
Nell sighed. “Oh, I know better. But she’s excited about the prizes this year.”
“I can’t imagine your brother going with Gretchen to hair shows,” Thea said.
“He never did. She would go alone or with other people.”
“I remember you telling me they had nothing in common.”
“Twelve years of nothing in common. Wouldn’t you rather be alone?” Nell took a sip of soda. “All right, back to work.”
******
“I think it’s funny,” Candy said, “how we get paid to wait for other people to do their jobs.”
Candy and Nell had been waiting at their assigned machine, Debur15, for almost twenty minutes. They had informed their team leader who informed the maintenance guy who informed the electrician that Debur15 had stopped functioning for whatever reasons.
Two people were needed to load the machine one part at a time, the metal parts long and bulky, on to the fixture. A curtain rolls down at a swipe of a button, the stubborn burrs removed when the part is hugged at both sides by a sander, the ends made smooth. The part then drops to a conveyor belt at the bottom of the machine. Both women grab an end and pack the part in a metal container, eighty parts per container. By the end of the night, their backs and arms ached, work clothes black with grease.
The machine seldom achieved rate; the orders were caught up over the weekends. The realization they would both be working Saturday and Sunday had already dawned on Nell and Candy.
Nell pulled off her bulky work gloves, tossing them on top of the finished parts. “They think paying us time and a half is some kind of spell that will make us do their bidding. When we refuse their extra money, they don’t know how to control us.”
“But most of us need the money. Thea volunteers every damn weekend. When does her husband and kids see her?”
They had to shout to communicate, the noise from the machines buffered by earplugs.
“Did I tell you I failed the hearing test this year?” Nell asked.
“This place making you deaf?”
Nell chuckled. “The hearing loss is in my left ear. I had to take the test two more times.”
“Rob’s getting deaf as a post. I swear he reads our lips.”
“He’s worked here for almost fifteen years. He has hypertension and an ulcer, too.”
“See? That’s why I never wanted to move up. You become a bigger target. Remember when Eric fell at home? His doctor made him take a few days off. I guess they didn’t like him; he was replaced by Rob’s son Cody. He’s only nineteen and a team leader. At that age, I couldn’t get a job at McDonald’s. But customer service was never my thing.”
“I hate people, too,” Nell said.
Candy had removed her work glasses, cleaning off the greasy smears with the front of her shirt. “But people seem to like you. Everybody talks to you here.”
“I try to be nice.”
“You’re too nice. Assholes take advantage. That’s why Rob makes you train the dementors.”
“Dementors?”
“Yeah. You can train ’em, no matter how crazy. Brain damaged. Foreign. Too old. Too young. Drunk. High. Illiterate. Attention deficit- “
“They’ll hire anybody, the place can’t keep people.”
“They’ve kept us,” Candy said.
“Yeah, and what’s wrong with us?”
“Not a damn thing. We’re good workers. Every job I’ve had I did a good job, or I would just quit.”
“I figure I should do my best while I’m here- “
“Is it still down?”
Nell and Candy turned at the sound of Rob’s voice, loud over the noise.
“Well, yes, it is,” Candy said.
Rob grinned, his round face was flushed, crumbs from lunch in his graying beard. “How long have you been waiting?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Really? Jesus.” Rob pulled the door open at the side of the machine. He looked around for a moment, then pulled at the small radio clipped at his shoulder. “Maintenance? Debur15 is still down. No, I don’t think it’s an electrical problem.” He sighed, stepped out of the machine. “You two will have to wait awhile. Just clean for now.”
Rob went on his way, and Nell noticed his stiff walk and labored breathing. He was the same age as her but seemed older.
She grabbed a broom and started sweeping. Her shift would be over in a few hours.
The drive home gave Nell time to think, and then overthink.
She wanted to blame winter for her depression, along with her job and the changes her body was putting her through. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept through the night without awakening to a sheen of sweat slick on her legs and back, soaking into her nightgown and sheets. The hot flashes made her dizzy and nauseous. She wondered if she would ever be comfortable in her body again.
She cruised up the driveway to her mother’s house. She opened the driver’s side door, the frigid night air attacking her nose and cheeks.
Her mother had forgotten to turn on the outside light. Nell was fumbling with her keys in the dark when she heard the dachshunds’ rapid-fire barking. She heard the lock turn and waited for the door to open.
Sally Goosen was a short woman who had dealt with extra weight for most of her adult life. She was seventy-six years old, her snow-white hair cut in a pageboy, her lips and chin small. She was told she was pretty in her youth, but she was long over it.
She had to shout over the barking. “Sorry! I fell asleep in the chair!”
Nell entered and took off her coat and boots by the washer and dryer. “That’s all right, Mom.”
“How was work?”
“Same shit.”
“Gretchen called me. You can go to the hair show if you want. I didn’t know you would be interested.”
“That’s Gretchen for you. Wesley always said she was the control freak in their marriage.”
“She means well.” Nell followed Sally to the kitchen. The older woman sat at the table. “You haven’t gone out of town in years. Have some fun.”
Nell opened the refrigerator door, locating the left-over spaghetti. “When was the last time you had fun?”
“I have fun. Annie sang to me today.”
Annie, Sally’s oldest dachshund at ten years old, black and tan, enjoyed making a noise that was a cross between growling and howling, known as ‘yodeling.’ Her performances were random. Pearl, whose coat was a reddish brown, would accompany Annie at times with a high-pitched howl. The chorus of noise could be heard next door, but the neighbors couldn’t complain due to their small family of pit bulls living in their fenced-in yard.
“I’m telling Wesley to check on you while I’m gone,” Nell said.
“I don’t want you pushing Wesley. He helps me when he can.”
“We haven’t heard from him in weeks. What the Hell does he do? No wife, no kids…”
“He works hard, just like you.”
Nell placed the container of cold spaghetti on the counter. “Gretchen asked me how he was doing. I said fine, but she still thinks he’s an asshole.”
“He never cheated. Or hit her. She left him, anyway.”
“Wesley was only sober at work. She was lonely, so she left.”
“Well, the past is past. What do people do at beauty expos? Gretchen didn’t really explain…”
“It’s like a convention and a showcase for people in the beauty industry. The one in Montreal was held every year until Covid. People are coming back, and Gretchen says it’s going to be big-more competition, more prizes for the hair show.”
“Do people come from all over?”
“All over Canada, for sure. And the States. The hotel is supposed to be nice.”
“What else can you do there?”
“Gretchen will be at the convention center. I can try to get away…”
“That’s what I’m worried about. You’ll just sit in the hotel room.”
“I won’t, Mom. I’ll get around people.”
“I’m glad you’re going.”
“You make me sound like an old hermit.”
“Middle-aged hermit.”
“Thanks, Mom. At least you don’t call me a spinster to my face.”
“Who uses ‘spinster’ anymore?”
Nell dropped a wad of cold spaghetti onto a plate. “No one, I guess.”
“I think Gretchen has good timing. This weekend is the anniversary- “
“I know. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to be alone.”
“I’ll be all right. It’s been over thirty years. But this time of the year always reminds me…”
“The cold and gray days don’t make it any easier.”
“I think about Pete, how old he would be now. What would he be doing? But who can say?”
A strand of hair fell over Nell’s eye as she watched her spaghetti warm in the microwave. Thinking about her dead brother reminded her of the shock and numbness, her introduction to grief at fifteen years old.
“What will you do while I’m gone?” Nell asked.
“Clean house. You can take me to the store to stock up before you go. Maybe Gretchen could do something with your hair.”
“Like what?”
“Hair color, Nell. You have grays.”
“I’m forty-seven. I don’t like hair color. It burns, like perms.”
“She used to give you haircuts.”
“I’ve been growing it out for the past year. She sees this growth, and she’ll want to put me right in the chair. I don’t trust her judgement.”
“Wesley used to get mad when she taught at the beauty school, and she would go out with her gay friends. Oh! Your doctor’s office called.”
“I need to reschedule that ultrasound. I’ll do it after I get back. It’s just a follow-up. I didn’t just have cysts, I had polyps.”
“He removed the polyps.”
“Yeah, I was fine. But things can grow back.”
“At least you didn’t need a hysterectomy.
“Lucky me.” Nell took a bite of spaghetti, found it lukewarm. She shoved the plate back in the microwave. “I’ll call Gretchen later.”
“Gladys really stunk up her litter box,” Sally said.
“I’ll get to it. Is she hiding in the shower?”
“Probably. Annie and Pearl get on her nerves during the day.”
“But not at night. Then she picks on them.”
“While I’m trying to sleep. These two were barking because Gladys was knocking her toys around the floor, then jumping on my bed.”
“Shut your door.”
“Then she scratches. You’ve seen what my door looks like now.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You can’t do a damn thing. We’re stuck with ’em. If my house gets destroyed, you’ll have to fix it up. You won’t be able to sell it after I’m gone.”
“That’s a way off, Mom.”
“Don’t be too sure.”
“Is there something you should tell me?”
“Life is unpredictable. There’s never a perfect time for anything.”
Nell gazed at her teeth in the bathroom mirror. The color was now an off-white with some enamel having disappeared a few years ago. She wondered if pre-menopause was making her teeth fall apart.
Welcome to almost fifty, she thought. If I had the courage, I would fight it somehow-dental work, hair dye, expensive face creams. Less coffee, more exercise. There’s a part of me that wants to fight, but I also don’t care.
Nell had changed into her pajamas, her hair brushed. She entered her small bedroom, Gladys already at the end of the twin bed. The tuxedo cat would watch Nell go to sleep, then stalk Annie and Pearl for the rest of the night, depriving the dogs and Sally of any sleep. Nell would shut her door after the cat’s departure, needing her rest for work.
