Category Archives: Literary-Mainstream Fiction

Goose didn’t like having to care for himself much. He had to cook and do laundry, and get himself up for work, and he knew Gloria could be doing it. He thought with a little charm he could talk Gloria into letting him back, and thought about what to say to her, and rehearsed it over and over. He bought a clearance sweater at Sears and went to see her. He told her he would change for her and the kids and Gloria reluctantly agreed. Things were all right for awhile until the flaws in Goose started to cause the relationship to crumble like a sand castle in a rising tide. It took eight years, but in the summer of 1963, Gloria and the GooseBumps moved out for the second time. The second time was harder than the first because the GooseBumps knew their father. Gloria was miserable, yet, didn’t know what to do to help herself. It was the kids that were being screwed, and that’s exactly what she didn’t want, but it was happening anyway. She was helpless and what the fuck was the point of it all? In despair, she went to the supermarket, and asked Goose if they could talk. Jack Kennedy was shot in Dallas, and that deepened her despondency. Goose agreed to meet her at the diner.

Gloria sat in a booth. She wore a Mickey Mouse sweatshirt decorated with ketchup spots and sweat pants. Her hair was indented where she’d slept on it. She was chewing gum and waiting for Goose. The waitress lowered a cup of coffee in front of her.
Waitin’ for someone hon? she asked.
Gloria nodded her head, and the waitress smiled.
I’ve been there so many times, hon. Good Luck to you.
Gloria gave a weak smile and poured sugar into her coffee. She saw Goose coming across the parking lot and thought: May the Good Lord Help Me. Goose came into the diner and walked in the wrong direction. A few moments later he was back and found her. He shoved himself into the booth.
Order yet?
Just coffee.
I wanna eat, all right?
You don’t need my permission.
Goose lowered the menu and looked at Gloria.
She looks the same but something’s different, he thought.
So what do ya want to see me about? Money?, he accused.
No Goose.
The waitress came back, and before she could ask, Goose ordered,
Coffee and two fried eggs.
What’s yours, sweetie?
I’ll have white toast, please?
That’s all, sweetie? You need more than that. I’m sure Superman here will be happy to buy you a good breakfast, isn’t that right, Mr. Kind and Generous.
What’s it to you?
I’m fine really. Thank-you though.
Manners – now there’s a concept you could share.
The waitress walked off and Goose said,
What a bitch she is.
Actually she’s very kind.
Bullshit she is.
Oh Goose, I don’t know what I was thinking.
What are ya talkin’ about?
Gloria looked out the window and her eyes filled, and she wiped her eyes with a napkin.
I wish that bitch would bring the food – I’m hungry complained Goose.
They sat silent and the waitress brought their orders and she and Goose exchanged healthy, robust dirty looks.
Fuckin’ bitch, muttered Goose as he plowed into his food. Gloria half – heartedly ate her toast which had all the flavor of cardboard. She felt hollow.
She stared out the window and was envious when she saw a man laugh at something he was told. Goose was eating his breakfast with egg yoke on his chin. She thought over and over again,
Why did I do this? Why? Why?
Goose wiped his chin and spread the egg yoke onto his cheek.
How are the kids? he asked.
The question was a sword driven into her stomach. Without looking at him, she was able to say,
Fine.
That‘s it? How’s Carl doing with his throwing?
Good.
How come I have the feeling you’re not saying something?
Oh, Goose, oh, Goose.
Gloria sensed something deep inside her.
If you got somethin’ to say, you may as well say it. It’s not like we got anything to lose.
Gloria was still. The feeling inside her spread over her like a fever. It was anger, she was angry, and getting angrier. She waited until she thought it would choke her.
Well? prodded Goose.
Goose I wanted to talk to you because the kids are hurting, and I wanted to see if there’s someway that you could grow up and stop being a big, dumb, asshole, and be a man and an adult and take responsibility for your actions for once….
Gloria’s voice was rising and rising, and she was angry, and she’d never felt this way before, like she was falling out of a plane.
What the fuck…?
Shut-up and listen for once, she snapped, I know your dreams are shattered, but is that it? Is that all there is? What about Carl and Kim? You have a big part to play in growing them up. What are you going to do about that? Oh Goose – even your stupid name pisses me off – I want you to be a real man who takes care of his family and is a good member of the community, I mean, let’s be adults for pity’s sake. I want you to be Bruce Percy who’s a proud father and husband who goes to work everyday to provide for his family. You don’t hear them do you? In the middle of the night the kids crying in their beds because they miss their father even though their father is nothing more than a big, dumb asshole.
Gloria realized the diner was silent and everybody was watching and listening to her. Goose slid out from the booth and walked out. People gathered around Gloria and an old woman reached out her hand and touched her on the shoulder. Gloria couldn’t stop crying.

Goose opened his eyes and a pain shot across his forehead. He closed his eyes again until the pain went away. He didn’t know where he was and realized he was sleeping on something hard. He turned his head and saw the bars. Fucking jail, he thought. He remembered fighting and how much he enjoyed it as long as they didn’t punch back. He tried to sit up and only got half – way up before he lay down again. Sonny, that skinny little prick, I told him I would kick his ass if he didn’t shut up. He heard someone moan in their sleep. There was a dim light from somewheres down the hall. He didn’t know what time it was. He couldn’t sit up and felt sore all over. He had to piss bad. Big, Dumb, Asshole. He heard a groan and a voice yell, Marianne, Marianne. He forced himself to sit up and put his feet on the cement floor. He was dizzy. He pissed himself. Fuck. The piss was warm in his groin. He lay down on the wooden bench. Who the fuck is Bruce Percy anyway? he wondered. He pictured Lyle, and knew he would be ashamed of his son if he could know where he was. He tried not to think about his father but his image wouldn’t go away. He lay on the bench and tried not to think about anything, but Lyle’s image wouldn’t go away. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, Lyle was still there. I have bad luck is all. If people would stop being assholes to me, I could straighten my life out, he told his father. Somebody put that shit into Gloria’s head – that wasn’t her talking. Let’s be adults for pity’s sake, Chris sake’s that sounds like a minister or somebody. He paused. The image of Lyle looked at him. Goose remembered his father telling him over and over: Your reputation is everything. You have to be tough and strong otherwise others take advantage of you. You don’t want to be a chump, do you? Goose wanted to say more to his father, but no words came to him. From down the hall came a moan. He wanted sleep but there was no relief from his self-doubt.

She was small, bent over with wire-rimmed glasses in a nun’s habit, and she shuffled her feet. She looked up always with a smile to whomever she spoke. She and Gloria met one day at the Farmer’s market by coincidence and Gloria enjoyed talking to her and would go see her at The Saint Mary’s School were she’d been the composition teacher for thirty-four years. She had a small office on the second floor, and Gloria would sit on the other side of her desk, and they would talk. Sister Cecilia was in her eighties and believed in the dignity of all God’s creatures. Sister Cecilia talked about self-esteem which Gloria had never heard of before. Gloria sensed that Cecilia’s knowledge of life came from experience, but she didn’t have the nerve to ask. How could she suffer that much as a nun? Gloria wondered. Gloria also had the sensation that Sister Cecilia believed great things were possible if only people would believe: in themselves, in God, in nature. Sister Cecilia gently pointed out to Gloria that the sweat clothes she wore sent a message about how she felt about herself to others. The net you cast, she said, will only catch sharks when what you really want to catch is dolphins. Gloria had to think about that for awhile. She began to see her life in a different way. She had choices she never knew she had before talking to Sister Cecilia. If you present yourself as undeserving, you will get the undeserving, said Sister Cecilia. One time, Gloria went to see her, and she gave Gloria a white blouse and told her to go into the lavatory and put it on. She came back into Cecilia’s office wearing the blouse and feeling different. See now, said the smiling Cecilia, how much better you feel? The outside is the easy part; it’s the inside that’s harder to change. Gloria loved Sister Cecilia.

Goose punched the time clock, and walked toward the floor when Carmen, the assistant manager, told him that Eugene wanted to see him. He stood in the doorway until Eugene waved him to sit. When Eugene hung up the phone, he stood up and walked to the door and closed it. Ah oh, thought Goose. Eugene sat behind his desk, his bald head shining, and looked at Goose a moment before stating, Carmen tells me you’ve not show up for your last two shifts.
I’ve had some trouble.
You didn’t call either.
There was no phone where I was, confessed Goose.
Jail?
Goose sheepishly grinned.
Yeah.
Eugene let out a sigh.
Goose I’m going to say somethings to you that I have no right to say, and why I’m bothering to do that, I’m not sure I understand myself. I guess I might believe there’s still a chance to make a difference with you. I’ve seen young people come and go in this business for all kinds of reasons: alcohol, divorce, drugs; I’ve had employees commit suicide, homicide, rape, robbery, and I can tell you you’re headed for disaster. I can smell it on you. But I’m powerless to help you. All I can do is warn you. If it happens again, I will have no choice but terminate you, do you understand?
Yeah. That it?
I hope so.
Goose stood up and left the office; he was pissed. None of his business, he thought. Eugene transferred to the store from Claremont not too long ago. He ran into Carmen who told him, aisle eight, and that made him more pissed. Everyone hated aisle eight because of the tiny spice bottles that were a pain in the ass to handle. Aisle eight was stacked with seven or eight boxes of spices and no other employee. Lyle played in his head, You’ve got to be strong and tough otherwise people take advantage of you. You don’t want to be a chump, do you? He took the first box and opened it with his cutter. He kept thinking about what Eugene told him even though he didn’t want to. He tried to dismiss Eugene by telling himself that because it was none of his business what he said wasn’t true. He didn’t believe himself. He was weaker than he used to be. Before, whatever version of reality he believed in was what was true; without question. Now he had doubt. He realized that aisle eight was his punishment for not showing up for work. So Eugene and Carmen have it in for me, do they? he thought, I won’t give them the satisfaction. He was outgoing and cheerful to the customers who got in his way, even the old woman who stood in front of the spice rack, and studied it like it was a poster written in Swahili. Carmen came down the aisle and asked,
Is that all you’ve got done?
Goose answered,
You want me to push the old ladies out of the way to get it done?
Carmen smirked and walked away.
Prick, thought Goose.

Eugene got under Goose’s skin, and Goose watched him to understand him better. He thought about the other day when an angry woman insulted him over a rain check she thought she got cheated on. Goose happened to be near the service desk when Eugene was called to the front, and was impressed with how Eugene stayed calm when the woman accused in a loud voice that the store was ripping her off. She tried to embarrass Eugene in public and it didn’t work because he didn’t play her game. Cool, thought Goose, you don’t want to be a chump, do you?

Goose saw him from down the street. He walked up the church steps, opened the door, and entered.
That was Eugene, he realized.
He didn’t know what to do.
Why is he going to church now?
He tried to make himself go on, but walked toward the church. He slowly climbed the steps, and opened the door. He walked through the lobby and into the nave. It was still. He saw Eugene, alone, in the middle of the pews, praying. He watched him for a few moments, and came back outside.

Several nights later, Goose was the closing cashier. At ten o’clock, Carmen locked the doors, and turned out three quarters of the lights. The store was silent. Goose kept trying to get Eugene’s talk to him out of his head but it pestered him like a fly. He carried his drawer through the mostly dark market to the back. He counted the drawer in the lunchroom and gave it to Carmen through the window at the cash office. As he walked out, he went by Eugene’s office, and as he walked by, he glanced in, and saw Eugene, statue – like, sitting behind his desk. He took a couple of steps beyond the door, and told himself to keep going, but stepped back in spite of himself. He looked in at Eugene who appeared to be in some kind of trance.
Eugene? probed Goose.
Eugene slightly shook his head, and answered, yes?
You all right?
Yes, Goose, I’m fine – I have this memory from time to time.
There was silence and the two men looked away from each other. Goose told himself to say Goodnight, but for some reason said,
I’ve been thinking about what you told me the other day.
Eugene smiled but said nothing. Goose felt anxious, and blurted out,
How do you know so much?
Eugene smiled.
I didn’t know I did.
You spoke to me good.
Eugene looked at Goose; thought about how to answer, and said,
Life teaches you things. It’s the unexpected events that cripple.
Goose had a puzzled look on his face. Eugene was silent, trying to decide if he should say more. He saw Goose was confused. Goose blurted out,
I saw you go into church. I watched you pray for a second.
Goose looked down and felt embarrassed. Eugene smiled. He said,
There was a night, Goose, when I opened my door, and there were two policemen standing there who told me my son’s car was wrapped around a tree on the mountain road. Two people died that night. I walk around, and go through the motions, but any joy or anticipation of life died right there. My wife left me a year later. I’m living out the rest of my physical life until my body gives out and I’m released from my emptiness. I go and pray for the soul of my son. That’s all.
The two men looked at each other.
He’s suffering, thought Goose.
I’m sorry, spoke Goose.
Eugene didn’t respond. After several moments, he spoke again,
When I sense someone’s in trouble, particularly young people, I try and say something so they know they’re not alone. I hope it helps them.
It got me to thinking.
The two men looked away from each other.
Goodnight, said Goose.
Eugene nodded.

Goose told himself Eugene had a lot of class after being treated so cruelly by life. He admired Eugene for that, and whenever he had a chance, he would stop by Eugene’s office and talk to him for a few minutes. Carmen didn’t like it and would get sarcastic with Goose, and that gave Goose a chance to practice what he saw Eugene do even though he felt like putting Carmen on his back. He wouldn’t say anything when Carmen made fun of him in front of other employees. When Carmen wasn’t present, the other employees asked him why Carmen was being a jerk to him, and he would shrug his shoulders and say,
I don’t know.
Goose felt he had a power over himself and others he never had before. He thought about Gloria and the GooseBumps.
Let’s be adults for pity’s sake, he remembered. He laughed at that now when it used to make him mad.