Burning in the Heartland

"Now how can that boy wear a hat like that on a day like today?" Mabel asked.

Helen watched the boy slow down at the intersection, look both ways, and pedal on his merry way toward the creek and the old railroad track. All the kids went down there to catch crawdads despite Sheriff Pals' continuous warnings about how dangerous it was.

"Then take it out," the townspeople had said. "It's county-owned."

Pals countered, "We've got more important things to focus on at the moment." Knowing there were no funds or staff to dismantle it.

Helen smoothed out the last handkerchief and rested her hands on the back of the display case. She left Mabel's comment hanging in the air, like a loosened spider web untethered on one end.

"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," Mabel changed the subject.

Helen crossed her arms and looked out the large glass window, past Mabel, to see her brother, Otto, come around the corner and head for the door. It was morning, and he would be sober but in a hungover, nasty mood. Helen held up a hand to pause Mabel's next words and pointed to the door.

Otto pushed open the door, barely missing Mabel who scooted out of the way at the last second. He glared at the counter and then scanned the store, hardly taking in the greeting cards, two different men's leather shoes—one black, one brown—and the tins of shoe polish to go along with them. Otto's eyes settled on his very pregnant sister. He let the door close, jangling the bell.

"Hi," Helen said, trying to lighten the mood. She glanced at Mabel whose jaw tightened.

"Where'd you put 'em?" he asked, not bothering to look at his sister's boss. During their school days, Otto was sweet on Mabel: the most beautiful girl in town. It took him a whole year to work up the courage to ask her to the Homecoming dance, and it took her thirty seconds to laugh in his face in the cafeteria. Others pointed and laughed along with her. At that moment, he stopped liking her for looks. He started hating the person she was.

"Put what?" Helen swished her hands on either side of her dress, feeling the light cotton fabric she picked out to make maternity clothes—a beautiful yellow. Wayne's favorite color.

"The keys," Otto said.

"Should be in the ignition," Helen shrugged and stuck out her bottom lip.

"They're not," her brother said, a mist of spit made a rainbow that hung briefly in the morning light, sprinkling the wooden floor boards, some landing on his dusty work boots. "God damn it. You know God damn well where they are. You're costing me my job." Otto took two steps forward and poked his index finger at her belly.

Helen stepped back. Her heel caught on a ripple in the floorboard seam, which sent her falling, slamming into the shelf of canned saltine crackers. Her hands reached out for her brother. He did not move.

"Oh, my God," Mabel bent down and said to Otto, "Help me."

Otto hooked a hand under Helen's armpit. Mabel did the same on the other side. Together, they lifted Helen and guided her over to the stool by the counter.

"I didn't take your keys," Helen said, clutching her belly. "Maybe they're under the seat."

Otto stormed out the door and shoved his hands deep in his jean pockets, heading toward Tally's Grill.

"Can I get you water?" Mabel wrung her hands and fiddled with her necklace. An opal she had received for their high school graduation from her parents. It was the same opal Helen had eyed each time she worked after school stocking shelves. The late-afternoon sun always glinted off the gold chain from across the hazy store, sometimes blinding Helen as she counted back change for hair nets and Spam. During breaks, she dusted the jewelry case just to get a glimpse of the creamy white with light pink swirls. According to the latest Woman's Day, light pink complements fair skin with warm undertones, which described Helen best. There weren't enough hours in the work week for Helen to earn it herself, and there was no way her parents could afford such a luxury—even for a celebration such as graduation.