Plato, TX

Part 1: Everybody lost their jobs today.

It was a dry, quiet day. Nothing particularly interesting was on TV, and the kids didn’t play outside anymore. Too many video games, text messages, and predators to play outside. Everybody went about their daily routine with little vigor. The blown-out speakers of a fifteen-year-old Dodge Ram, hauling a broken mower in the truck bed, bathed the town in an old Willie track while Rich and Angela Simmons gardened their dying lawn the best they could.

There had been a drought going on for a while. Not good for a semi-rural town where beef processing meant lots of cows that needed lots of feed, which needed quite a bit of water.

No water.

No cows.
No cows.

No jobs.

That’s what the Daily Ranger should have printed on the front page. Instead, Angela Simmons shouted out to her husband from behind the screen door: PLANT TO CLOSE AS MEEKER CONSIDERS DROUGHT. Rich cursed, not because of the headline, but because he cut himself on his pruning shears. Rich rarely cursed, but with the world going down the tubes, he didn’t see the point in holding back. Rich didn’t need another ulcer. He already had a son-in-law.

Rich’s forsaken son-in-law Jamie worked at the Meeker plant. By work, Rich meant Jamie showed up most days, on time sometimes, and tried to get to five o’clock without getting fired. Jamie was surely fired and surely pissed drunk by now. Angela shuffled back into the living room and took up the cordless. She would not see her beautiful daughter starve. Jamie answered the phone. Willie played in the distance, asking forgiveness for doin’ her wrong.

“How you holding up, Jamie?” she asked with a heaping helping of sympathy.
“I got a headache,” he coughed back, “and I got to get to work.”
“Didn’t you hear, honey? The meat plant closed down because of the drought.”
“That’s bullshit, Angie,” Jamie replied, knowing she probably knew something he didn’t, as was usually the case.
“It’s the front page of the paper, Jamie. Where’s Tammy at?” Angela asked, losing her patience as always.
“I’m here, Mom, looking at the paper now. I heard you.”
“Tammy, why are you always listening in on my phone calls all the damn time,” Jamie yelled from the other room, dropping the phone. Tammy didn’t trust Jamie much, and for good reason. Jamie was a sap, a sucker, a drunk, a philanderer, a chain smoker, a good ol’ boy, and a bad dancer.
“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now, Mom.” Tammy was close to tears. “I just got off with Carmella and everybody’s losing their jobs.”
“I know, baby.”
“Can I come over, Mommy?”
“You do just that, right now.”

Part 2: I ain’t moving to Oklahoma for all the gold in China.

Carmella grasped tightly onto the metal fence outside the Meeker packaging plant, tears erupting from her dull brown eyes. Randall Meeker spotted her from the window of his corner office, where he was currently hiding. She wasn’t a beautiful girl—a bit too much woman for him, to be honest—but there was something incredible about the way she cried. She sure could hate. Randall was pretty positive she was crying right at him, and it made him want to take her away and show her something pretty. He wanted to show her something pretty and say, “Look, Carmella, I know what beauty looks like. I’m no monster man.”

Randall sat back down under his desk, where he’d been all evening, going over figures with one hand while pulling at his mustache with the other. Randall needed Carmella to cry a few hundred gallons more, or it needed to just go ahead and rain already. Randall loved Plato and didn’t want to be the asshole who dug its early grave. But he wasn’t about to give all his money away either. There was still the plant in Oklahoma, and the people would go there. They’d pick up their children and move to the work. The people would follow the cows, and everyone would eat. Randall was hungry now.

Francisco found his sister at the fence, like he suspected he would, yelling holy hell like a sun-stained coyote with heavy eye shadow. Francisco wasn’t one for theatrics. He’d lost his job trucking Meeker meat that morning, and by noon he was on to better things. Francisco had taken a long walk, and while walking, he took a good hard look at the town. He walked down to the Costco and back up toward the Taco Bell in the mean heat. It was in the Taco Bell parking lot that Francisco thought of what he’d say to his sister to coax her off the fence. He’d tell her he walked the whole town, and he’d seen it before. He’d seen it driving through Pensacola, and up in Roanoke, and once, he stopped to use a restroom in Cedar Rapids and could have sworn he was in the Shoney’s around the corner from their home. Every place was the same, and this was every place, so wherever they’d end up would be home. A thought that comforted Francisco, but just pushed Carmella to the edge.

She spat into the dust and sat in it, sending up a cloud of dirt. It looked like she’d just popped out of a magic lamp, and boy, was she pissed that you’d woken her up. Carmella liked her Taco Bell. She knew the slow boy who ran the register from high school, and he always gave her the large soda for the medium price. She liked sitting in the Costco parking lot in Plato because the Plato Costco parking lot looked green at night. She’d go out and smoke in the parking lot and pretend she was from the future. Francisco took a squat a safe enough distance away from Carmella, found her glance, and told her plainly. They were moving to Oklahoma and would work for Meeker over there. Francisco stood back up with the help of the fence and brushed dirt off his jeans. Carmella watched him wander off in no particular direction, right past Randall Meeker, sneaking into a company car.

Part 3: A good long sit sounds about right.

Douglas wondered just how Mr. Meeker planned to eat all of those burritos. He could see his own reflection in the tinted windows of the swanky car and liked what he saw. He saw a high school graduate, which sure showed his grandfather, and a working man with a good haircut. Douglas got his mother to buzz his hair regularly, or else he’d spend the whole day picking at it. Douglas was a bit slow, but a good listener. He liked to work the night shift because customers liked to talk at night. They’d talk, and Douglas would listen. Last night, he listened to a guy with the greasiest hair he’d ever seen say there were going to be riots in the street after everyone lost their jobs in the morning. Douglas was a bit disappointed by the lack of rioting. The air conditioning in the Taco Bell was broken again, and an excuse to go outside would have been nice. Douglas took some more ice from the soda machine and stuffed it down his pants. Mr. Meeker laughed, and Douglas laughed too. Douglas was lucky, Mr. Meeker said, because he was the only young man in town who still had a job. Douglas laughed, but Mr. Meeker didn’t. He didn’t think it was funny. Douglas apologized and stuffed an extra kid’s meal toy in Mr. Meeker’s bag. Crying kids always got an extra toy from Douglas.

“Gimme a large Coke and leave room for ice,” Jamie commanded from the front counter. Mr. Meeker stuffed a hundred-dollar bill into Douglas’s shirt pocket and sped off. A bottle of Jim Beam appeared as if from nowhere, Jamie’s favorite magic trick, and Jamie poured a fourth of it into the Coke. “Bathroom key, monsieur?” Jamie smirked with a slight head tilt. Douglas handed him the wire hanger with the key attached, and off Jamie went, like a man on a mission. A man looking for a sit down. “Hold my calls,” announced the bathroom door. Douglas and Jamie were good friends in high school. They cheated off each other constantly and both failed. But it felt nice to be cheated off of for both of them. To be worthy of having your paper copied, even if you were mostly wrong, most of the time. Sure, Jamie would egg Douglas’s house with the rest of the basketball team, but Douglas knew how hard it was to be popular. A good deal of pressure. Douglas was lucky. He wasn’t popular, and he had a job.

Part 4: But they can’t cancel the parade. It’s a parade.

Tammy and Angela shared a cigarette in the computer room.
“What are we supposed to do now, Mommy?”
“You’re an adult now, baby. You need to make your own way.”
“Mommy!”
“Let’s go to the parade. It’ll make you feel better.”
“They canceled it.”
“No! No. They. Did. Not. They wouldn’t cancel that parade after those boys played their butts off to win that basketball trophy and earn that parade. They just wouldn’t do that.”
“How are they going to have a parade when everyone’s out of a job and leaving town? A line of cars leaving town—that’s your parade.”
“So you didn’t read it anywhere? Or hear it on the radio or something?”
“No, I just figured—”
“—Oh, it’s still happening then. You don’t know anything.”
“Well, I don’t want to go.”
“Well, too bad because we’re going, and it’ll make you feel better. Isn’t Jamie sitting on the float with all the other drunk hall of famers?”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do. You’ll kill yourself if you don’t get a picture.”
“I hate him, Mommy.”
“I know, baby, but what are you going to do about it?”
“Leave him.”
“If you were going to do that, then you would have done it already. You’re stuck, sucker.”
“I have nothing to wear to the stupid parade.”
“What is wrong with what you’re wearing now? You look nice.”
“I look like a powdered doughnut.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m going to leave him.”
“You do that, baby, but you can’t stay here.”
“I’ll stay with Carmella.”
“She’s moving to Oklahoma. Francisco came by today to return your father’s weed whacker and told us. She’s got a job as a secretary up there.”
“Carmella would never leave me here alone!”
“You’ll have to talk to her about that. They’ll be at the parade.”
“Is Daddy coming?”
“He’s in the car. Let’s go.”

Part 5: The face of destruction could use a shave. 

The parade was a grim affair indeed. It wasn’t canceled, but it wasn’t exactly a parade either. High school band members hauled their instruments down the street. A line of cars, stuffed to the brim with lives lived and mattresses balanced on the roofs, piled behind the meandering students. It was the biggest parade the town had ever witnessed. Randall Meeker prayed to Lord Buddha that no one would recognize his town car stuck smack dab in the middle of the funeral march. Angela snapped pictures and waved at a Bunko partner across the road. Tammy grimaced as Douglas tried to hoist Jamie onto the float. Jamie finally made it up and felt content to lie sedately on his belly as the rumble of the old car engine lulled him back to sleep. Rich waited in the car, blasting the A/C. Francisco pulled up the rear in his old hatchback, keeping a watchful eye for Carmella. She surely wouldn’t let him leave without her. Oklahoma wasn’t that awful.

It was beginning to get dusty. The men pulled their shirts up over their noses and mouths, while the ladies ran for cover. The pudgy boy who played the trombone began to wheeze as he blew bursts of dust from his horn. He was asthmatic and honestly should have taken up a string instrument because this happened a lot. The other kids rolled their eyes and looked for the boy’s mother with his inhaler. With the band stalled, the rest of the parade stalled out as well, including the old engine in the hall of famers float, causing Jamie to wake with a start. Jamie rolled off the side of the float and took a look at the engine. It was shot. This parade should be shot. Honking began to flow in like a tidal wave and soon the whole town was yelling at each other.
“Move that piece of shit!”
“We have to get to Wichita by sundown!”
“Is that Meeker’s car back there?”
“What’s that son of a bitch doing in the parade?”
“You killed this town, Randall, and I’m going to kill you dead!”

Randall Meeker shifted back into gear and sprayed out onto the sidewalk. He wasn’t going to sit front row at his own execution. He barreled down the sidewalk at a slow enough pace for people to get out of his way, but fast enough to mean business. He saw the familiar faces of the town he’d destroyed along the way. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t in charge of the rain! Randall Meeker was just trying to run a business. Randall Meeker crashed into the post office when Jamie threw a large Coke at his windshield.

Part 6: Everybody showed up for the angry mob.

Douglas pulled Randall from the car and began to perform CPR. Randall assured him he was alright. Hitting anything at twelve miles an hour was rarely deadly, although more so when you’re surrounded by an angry mob. It was starting to get dark, and Randall found it fitting. The sun sets on another tycoon. The mob swelled around Randall, and he couldn’t help but think this was how Jesus must have felt on the cross. Dying for the sins of mankind. Randall felt the first hand grasp him tight. It was only a matter of time.

“Nobody do anything stupid!” bellowed Carmella as she pulled Randall in close to her. He felt her hot breath on his neck and her prickly legs against his. This crazy bitch may just save his life. Randall turned toward his savior. Carmella spat in his face.

Carmella hated this man more than the rest of them, but she wasn’t about to see him torn apart. He’d have to fix his mess first and reopen the factory. Put everyone back to work. Then they could string him up by his ankles. It fell pretty quiet with the whole town gathered in one spot. Just the sound of the pudgy boy’s mother calmly rubbing his back, “Breathe in and out. In and out.”

Part 7: I should have watched it on TV because I couldn’t see a thing from where I was standing.

Rich slept calmly in the car while the rest of the town stared into what used to be a post office and was now a hostage crisis. Francisco, at the very end of the car line, was none the wiser and almost out of gas. Angela snapped pictures of the mob. Tammy sat and fanned Jamie beside the broken-down float. Carmella kept watch, with her hand grasping an unknown gun-like object in her purse. Douglas took Randall Meeker behind the counter toward the letter-sorting area. Douglas noticed how much the back of the post office reminded him of his Taco Bell. The packages and letters could be tacos and burritos. The stamps could be salsa packets. It wasn’t really all that similar, but Douglas thought he could work at the post office just the same.
“What’s the plan now, Bonnie?” Randall asked with a hopeless, toothy grin.
“The plan is for you to shut up.”
“Good plan.”
Carmella’s plan was simple. Keep everyone there until it rained and the cows came back. She was willing to wait as long as it took. The crowd was not.

Everyone was getting bored, including the constable.
“What do you think you’re doing, Carmella?” asked the officer, with his hand near his pistol.
“I don’t really know, Ken,” replied Carmella.
“Well, I went ahead and guessed that. Why don’t you take your hand out of your purse and just go home.”
Ken was a nice guy. He and Carmella went out on a date one time two or three years ago and saw a good movie, but Ken had three kids from a previous marriage and gave all his love to them. Carmella began to cry. She took her hand out of her purse, dropped her compact, and sat on the ground.

Part 8: And Lyle Lovett was there too! And he played a song!

Ken led Carmella, Douglas, and Randall Meeker out of the post office and into the street. Carmella bawled like a baby, and no one really felt like being an angry mob anymore. It was dark now, and the night cooled things down. Jamie slept on Tammy’s shoulder. Rich stepped out into the street and made his way to Francisco’s smoking car down the block. Together, they took a look under the hood.

“I can give you a lift over to the Citgo if you want,” offered Rich, but another man had already agreed to take him. Rich looked over and saw Lyle Lovett, the singer and former Mr. Julia Roberts, beckoning them both over to his car.
“Aren’t you Lyle Lovett?” asked Rich.
“I am,” replied Lovett with a kind smile.
“What are you doing in our town? Just passing through?”
“I was just stopping by the Costco to get some gas and a hotdog, yeah.”
“Can I introduce you to my wife? She’ll kill me if I tell her I met you and didn’t say anything.”
“Sure, let’s do it.”
“Are you famous?” asked Francisco.
“I don’t know,” replied Lovett.
Lyle Lovett made his way through the crowd and shook hands with Angela. Angela asked him to play a song, and Lyle said he didn’t have a guitar. Ken grabbed his guitar from the trunk of his squad car, and Lyle asked the marching band if they knew any songs he could play with. None of the kids could think of anything, so Lyle played “Cowboy Man.”

Part 9: Then it started to rain and everybody went home.

Then it started to rain, and everybody went home. The kids went outside to play.

Part 10: We could all use a vacation.

MEEKER PLANT TO REOPEN WITHIN WEEKS - Angela read aloud from behind the screen door as Rich planted more tomatoes for her vegetable garden. It rained for a solid week, and the cows came back. Everyone got ready to get back to work. Carmella and Francisco bought a new used car and started making payments. Douglas got promoted to night manager at Taco Bell. Randall Meeker paid for the high school football field to be reseeded. Jamie kept drinking, and Tammy kept complaining and would soon get pregnant with twins. Ken let his oldest daughter have a sleepover for her tenth birthday, and everything went really well.

Lyle Lovett never returned to Plato, TX.