Two Short Stories by Lisa Heidle

The Butt Line

It was Shane’s ten year anniversary on the butt line at Dewey’s Meatpacking Plant. He’d taken the summer job after high school graduation to make enough money to move to Chicago with John and Kurt, his buddies from the football team. For the last decade, he’d spent eight hours a day separating pork shoulder into halves.

At the interview, he’d been nervous and had to trap his hands between his knees to stop the shaking. When Mr. Pickard asked him questions, he mostly gave one or two word responses.

Mr. Pickard: “Are you punctual?”

Shane: “Yes.” He didn’t mention the twelve late slips from senior year.

Mr. Pickard: “Are you a hard worker?”

Shane: “I am.” The pained look on his mom’s face when his counselor said he wouldn’t be going to college with his GPA and test scores.

“And where do you see yourself in ten years?” Mr. Pickard asked.

Shane responded with a joke, “God willing, laid up in my bathrobe and getting workman’s comp.”

Mr. Pickard laughed and slapped the table. “Best response I’ve heard all day.”

He’d left the interview and met up with John and Kurt at the quarry. Kurt had taken a six-pack from his dad’s refrigerator and Shane waited until they finished their first beers before telling them about the job. They laughed so hard Kurt fell off the rocks into the water. Shane and John followed him in. For the rest of the day, all one of them had to say was “butt line” and laughter echoed off the granite walls.

Kurt and John went to Chicago that fall. Shane stayed at Dewey’s, bought a new truck, and became line supervisor.

Shane looked around at his co-workers dressed in heavy coats, hair nets and goggles. He knew they were going to surprise him with an anniversary cake, his name in blue icing. Most of them were content with their lives, happy to have a consistent paycheck. He envied them.

He turned on the saw and thought about swimming in the quarry. The hot sun on his skin, the cool water as he went under, his toes touching velvety silt, the hush of all sound except the beating of his heart.

He hadn’t been back to the quarry since his friends left town.

Shane took off his left glove, enjoying the cold on his sweaty hand, and thought about the glib response he’d given Mr. Pickard. Ten years had seemed so far away. How could he have known how quickly it would pass, how demanding time could be? Why didn’t anyone tell him?

He tried to imagine the next ten years of his life. All he could see was the pleasure of his comfortable mattress at night and a baked potato for dinner because he could no longer stomach eating meat.

Shane took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Don’t be a chicken, he whispered, as he reached toward the hum of the spinning blade in the cold, cold room.

Originally published in Mash Stories in 2016

Nexus 365

Lewis Tolbin poured a cup of coffee and waited for the others to arrive to the weekly mandatory meeting. Gwen Sawyer came in next and sat two seats away. He avoided eye contact.

“How are you today, Officer Tolbin?” Gwen asked.

“You know who I am?”

“Of course. You worked Kayla’s case.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“I haven’t asked,” she said. “I’m sure some of them know who we both are.”

He watched the green flashing light on Gwen’s ankle bracelet. It was the Nexus 365, one of the top models. He’d worn it for a year after his release.

“I know it looks ridiculous,” Gwen said, pointing at her ankle. “At first I wore pants to cover it up. Not wearing a dress or skirt for ten years seemed impossible, so I’ve embraced it. Maybe it’ll become the new fashion trend and middle-aged women everywhere will want one. Gucci will start making them in animal print.”

“Mine sat right on my ankle bone. Rubbed the skin away. I have a scar.”

“You’re forever marked. All anyone has to do is look at your ankle and they’ll know you were a criminal. Ironic, isn’t it? He did what he did and I did what I did and you did what you did and we all wear the same label.”

Tolbin looked her in the eye and nodded. “What’d you bring today?”

She held up a small, clear bag. “Her first lost tooth.”

Tolbin stared at the tooth. He’d seen the photos of Kayla Sawyer when he was assigned to the case. The first photo was Kayla’s school picture. Dark brown hair to her shoulders, blue eyes, big smile. She looked healthy and happy. Well-loved. The next picture was from the crime scene. Blue jeans down around her knees, light blue t-shirt torn, one tennis shoe next to the body, the other out of frame, lost when she was dragged into the woods. Her front teeth broken, leaving jagged edges that bit through her bottom lip.

It was those jagged edges that let the police know they had the right guy. A large bite mark on John Neil’s left shoulder that fit perfectly with Kayla’s broken mouth.

He wondered if the girl had meant to leave a trace behind. Or maybe she’d wanted to hurt Neil like he was hurting her. Either way, it was a win for Kayla.

“Have you stopped drinking?” Gwen asked.

“Not a drop since I was locked up. Nothing like almost taking out your family when driving drunk to make you lose the taste.”

“And I haven’t tried to kill anyone since Neil got death row. Look at us becoming productive members of society again.”

Tolbin watched the green light flash, a tiny heartbeat in the quiet room, while Gwen Sawyer held tight to the bag holding her daughter’s first lost tooth like someone might try and take it away.

Originally published in Mash Stories in 2015

Lisa Heidle can be found at https://medium.com/@lheidle