In The Hearts of Limwick
©SamanthaJ2010
A ‘76 Dodge circled the lot until it jolted to a stop curbside. Its engine chugged as the wheels dug rifts into the dirt ground. Trails of fluttering sand, whisked away in the dry air, slapping the faces of passerby and truckers filling up their gas tanks. O’Malley hopped out the car adjusting his Sheriff hat in the rear view mirror. He tilted the hat just enough not to cover his aviator glasses. O’Malley swiftly approached the convenience store doors as Eli quickly unpackaged the last cantaloupes, placed them on top of the others in the cardboard bin, and marked the price sign: $.69/lb. Eli shuffled his feet as quick as he could to return behind the counter before O’Malley came in, but his old bones only allowed him to get so far.
“There you are!” O’Malley said in his obnoxious tone, “Didn’t see you behind the counter out there old buddy! Thought you abandoned post for a minute”. O’Malley coughed robustly into the white kerchief he removed from his shirt pocket, spitting out a glob of chewed tobacco. “Thought I’d have to rush in and revive ya’ ” he taunted then slapped his bony hand on Eli’s shoulder so hard his scapula jerked.
Eli grimaced as he made his way back around the counter.
“Ya’ know what I realized?” O’Malley continued, as Eli pulled a brown bag from off the back shelves. “You been owning this store for about ahhh…what is it? Forty five years now?” O’Malley said. “Eli’s since 1932” he referred to the storefront banner completely oblivious to the fact that Eli was Eli Atkins III.
“I’d reckon so” Eli lied, not trying to indulge.
O’Malley pulled a leather wallet from the back of his pants pocket then fiddled with the dusty glass jars in front of the cash register. “I remember when I was just a little boy trying to steal these same old licorice sticks when you had your back turned,” O’Malley said, shaking his head as he chuckled to himself. “And its looks like they haven’t been bought since” he added, examining the blotched oil stains.
Eli snarled up at him, but thought it best not to reply. Apparently, O’Malley thought he was senile so why not play the part? Eli figured as long as he didn’t respond, the less time he had to listen. He continued staring blankly at O’Malley, with his hooked nose, breath the stench of nicotine, and the overwhelming air of arrogance that he wore so loosely on his sleeve.
Four of Eli’s senses were keen. Hearing as sharp as a thistle’s prick, but the sight of Old Yeller. Gradually losing his 20/20 vision was a constant tussle, but Eli knew from his wife’s Alzheimer’s that we all had to lose something with age. In O’Malley’s case, not being able to see that well wasn’t so bad.
According to Eli, Sheriff O’Malley wasn’t any different from his relatives who held positions of authority years before him. The O’Malley’s - a lineage of conniving, snake bastards known for sweeping Limwick County’s mishaps under the rug as long as the payoff was just right.
O’Malley removed his Sheriff hat and pulled a crisp ten dollar bill from his wallet and two pennies for tax. “I’ll take my usual. Pigskins, two briskies…oh and ah” O’Malley pointed to the cigarette behind his ear “another three cigs ought to do me”.
“Cheap ass. Why not just buy the whole pack?” Eli thought. He had already placed O’Malley items in a brown bag, folded the top, then pushed it in O’Malley’s direction.
“Well look at that. The old man knows just what I like.” O’Malley replied, slyly looking at Eli sideways, with the cigarette dangling from the corners of his thin mouth. “And just for that” O’Malley continued, patting his pockets for his lighter. “You make sure you let me know if Bryer’s boys come round here stirring up trouble again, especially that nut Jackson” O’Malley insisted, replacing his hat on top of his slicked, dirty blonde hair. “Peggy found him sprawled out in her basement, a couple of weeks ago. Passed out and foaming at the mouth. Thought the joker was dead,” O’Malley said.
