Desperation in a Small Town

It was a gloomy night, as most nights are in Millstone, West Virginia. The air wreaked with whiskey and desperation as coal miners were told it was last call at The Alibi, the only bar in town.

Every night as I man the cashier at the local gas station, Louis Arnold comes in with enough liquor in his system to sedate a horse. He stumbles down the aisles, muttering about how he could've been the next Tom Brady, if only God hadn’t forsaken him and made him break his leg during playoffs his senior year. He still had the body of a high school quarterback, but with a bit of a beer belly. He had dusty blonde hair, but it was mostly dusty from being in the mines all day. He was the best looking guy in town, that’s for sure. Anyway, he has reason to complain. He was pretty damn good at football, and had scouts coming all the way from UCLA to recruit him. Unlike most people born in this town, he had a way to get out. We went to high school together, but that was ten years ago.

“Ashley!” He rejoices, as if he didn’t see me yesterday at the same time.

“Hey, Lou. Can I get you anything? Maybe some coffee?”

“Ehh, don’t try to sober me up now Ash. This is all I’ve got.” He pulls out a brown bag with a bottle that has even browner liquor in it. “I just need some Marlboros and company.”

I grab him a pack and sit down on my stool. Believe it or not, Louis coming into the gas station was the highlight of my day everyday. Although his words would slur, and I scarcely understood what he was saying, I liked that he wouldn’t remember anything I was saying. It was like talking to a toddler, you could bear your soul and they’d simply laugh because they had no clue what you meant. 

“How were the mines today?” I ask.

“Dirty and decrepit, like always.” We both stare blankly at each other. Every day is the same. As if he’s reading my mind he says, “Y’know we could leave. It’s not like they’ve got guards keeping us here.”

“Oh yeah, and do what?”

“You can be a cashier at any gas station in the world. I can be a plumber or somethin’. We could make it work.”

“You don’t mean that Lou. You’ve got your whole family here, and you know I’ve got to look after my Pa.”

“Why do you have to look after him? That bastard never looked after you!”

Everyone knew my dad had a temper. I never blamed him though. My Ma died when I was 7, in a car accident. She was drunk driving and ran into a tree, she was DOA. After that, my Pa had to take care of me all on his own. At first it was easy, I was easy, but once I hit puberty I realized how much I needed a mother. I got angry, I’d break shit just because I could. I’d yell at my Dad, trying to get his attention, but he was kind of catatonic, at least most of the time. He’d go to the mines, then go to The Alibi. He’d get home at 12 am drunk off his  ass, sit down in front of the TV and after 3 more hours of drinking, he'd fall asleep in his lazy boy. Usually when he got home he was just tired, but sometimes he was angry too. I liked it more when he was mad. At least then he’d hit me, and I knew that he knew I was there. 

Louis realized he’d said something that struck a nerve and offered me his brown bag. I took a swig, and he laughed at how I shuttered.

“You never could handle liquor.” He remarked.

Men in this town drank whiskey like it was water. 

“Y’know you should stop drinking so much. Pa’s got one leg in the grave since his liver stopped working.”

“We all die eventually, Ash. I’m just trying to get through the living part.”

Just then, Marcus Smith walked in. Marcus was the wealthiest guy in town, but not for anything noble. He was the candy man, but in Millstone everyone’s favorite candy was opioids. 

“Ashley, I heard you were looking for me.” Marcus said with his signature cockiness. 

“Yeah, you got it?” I kept telling myself I could stop if I wanted to, but deep down I knew that wasn’t true. I’d started off using oxycodone but after a couple months it wasn’t hitting the same. Marcus said he had something stronger, and that’s when I was introduced to Fentanyl. 

“Of course I do.” He handed me a pill bottle without a label on it. I handed him half the money in my purse. He said, “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” And walked out. 

Louis knew I used opioids, but he hated it. Before 6 months ago, every night Louis would stumble in here with his best friend, Jodey.  We’d sit and laugh until the sun started to rise and they realized they had to be back at the mines in a couple hours. 

“I still can’t believe you do that shit.”

“I could stop if I wanted to,” Liar.

“That’s how Jodes died.” He overdosed. Louis found his body one morning when he went to pick him up for work. It was already cold and lifeless. He didn’t leave a note or anything so we still aren’t sure if it was accidental or not. “A part of me hopes it was suicide y’know. Just so I know that he wasn’t scared. That he was welcoming death and he knew what he was doing.” Jodes was only 27.

“Ash. You’re all I’ve got. I don’t want to walk in here one night and find your body cold and desolate. I think it would break me too much.”

“And I don’t want to see you turn out just like my Pa. But we’re just trying to get through the living part, right. This helps me get through.”

I refuse to pop one in front of him. I never have and I never will. I think that as long as he doesn’t see me do it then it won’t worry him as much. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” I say.

I sneak the pill bottle with me. 

The bathroom walls are covered in sharpie writing. A prostitute’s phone number. Phallic drawings. A couple of bible verses. Piss on the walls, probably from drunk guys that forgot how to aim.

I open the pill bottle. Sweet relief. I take a scoop of water from the sink to wash it down. 

Almost instantaneously, I feel diaphanous. Everything is lighter, the pain is so distant. I walk back to the register with a smile on my face.

“I hate that I never make you smile like that.” Louis remarks.

“You do,” I reply, “You make me happier than anybody.” The pill makes me more bold. More honest. Less afraid of consequences. “Y’know I love you, right.”

“I love you too.”