A Slap in the Face
Short Story
Welcome to False Choices, where I publish literary fiction and updates on farm life when time permits. Hope you are enjoying autumn in your neck of the woods. I wrote a short story called “On the River” earlier and wanted to follow up with another character from that story, Nick. Enjoy, best, Tom
Update: This story won Top in Fiction!
“My old man needs me to run a bunch of errands for him, that’s his way of making me work this summer even though my Mom won’t let him put me to work in the factory,” said Nick, sitting atop a picnic table, bouncing a football on the bench below him.
“Your old man effing scares me, dude,” Nick’s teammate Paul said, “if he told me to show up tomorrow at the factory I probably would.”
All the boys knew what Paul meant, and when Nick laughed, they all laughed.
The boys eventually walked off the practice field, all of them feeling the strain of the first summer practices in sore joints and aching muscles. Nick and the seniors all had cars, the freshman and sophomores didn’t and for the juniors it was a toss up.
There was a transfer this year to the Pointe’s North squad, a boy whose family moved from the city. He looked rugged, and fast. He was a junior. He didn’t know anyone, and came to practice on his bike. Nick sized him up before practice started. He’ll want to run the ball, Nick thought, well, he’ll have to take it from me.
During the first few practices when others slowed down midway, Nick noticed the new kid he called ‘Junior’ kept going hard. He had only one speed, a motor on max rpm’s. Nick took it as a challenge and kept up though he had to really push. By the third practice, his legs aching, it started to anger him till he felt a tinge of hatred for Junior. They were still weeks away from pads, so there was nothing to do; Nick knew the wrong look, the wrong word would make him look weak. Instead he offered Junior encouragement, patting his back with a “good work,” as he worked his way through the collected team.
Mornings, Nick and his Dad were up at seven, out the door 45 minutes later. Nick ran errands, taking the business pickup truck to tool and die shops, fabrication shops, specialty metal warehouses and other like businesses. They were in changeover at the factory, new models coming out for the fall, so there was a lot to do. When there weren’t errands Nick got on the hi-lo and cleaned up the yard behind the factory, stacking pallets and moving metal factory waste into the large bins he took to the scrap recycle and sold for cash every week. He tried not to hang out in the office because Dad thought he was a distraction to the young women who worked inside sales. They all flirted with Nick and he didn’t mind the attention. The factory, even the loading dock and the yard, were noisy and dirty, the clang and whirr of machinery, and wisecracks from the men who worked there. He was known as “hey good lookin’” among the men.
After errands and yard work Nick went out to grab lunch for the execs and some of the office staff. There was an old Italian deli about a mile away that he’d drive to and pick up the day’s order, sandwiches on rolls. Nick’s Dad made him buy his own lunch, because “nothing’s free.” Nick usually ate while driving down to the yacht club on the river. Dad was the elected ‘Commodore’ this year, and Nick had a lot of friends there. The harbor master let Nick store his little 16 footer tied to a tree on the other side of the canal. It wasn’t easy to get to but it was easy to launch from there, and it was free.
One day early in the summer Nick and a friend were leaving the canal, talking and getting the sails ready. There was a girl standing by the club, one hand holding the elbow of the other arm, trying to stay in the sun and out of the cool breeze, her light brown hair floating along behind her.
“Who’s that?’ said Nick, to himself but out loud.
“She works in the restaurant, name’s Laura” his friend answered.
The next few days Nick walked into the restaurant. He couldn’t eat there, but he could order a carryout on his Dad’s account. He got a large iced tea each time, though he wasn’t really a fan of iced tea, it seemed more grown up than soda pop. On the third day he finally saw her.
“Hey, how’s it going? Do you think I could order a large ice tea in a to go cup?” said Nick.
“I guess you could,” the girl answered.
“Ok, then, I’m Nick, you can put it on my Dad’s account, John Adamos,” said Nick.
“Alright, I’ll tell the bartender, I’m Laura,” the girl answered.
A couple more trips to the restaurant to say hello and smile at Laura, and finally he had a chance to talk to her, off to the side. “I've got a small sloop, we can go for a ride when you get off maybe,” said Nick. Laura looked confused, and Nick quickly realized she probably didn’t know about sailing boats; “it’s a small sailboat,” added Nick.
“Oh, yeah, sure, that’s ok then,” said Laura. “How ‘bout Monday?”
“Sure,” Nick agreed.
“I’m off at 2:00,” said Laura, and she turned and went back to work, a little amazed at what just happened.
“Pappous called me today, he wants his garage painted this summer,” said Nick’s Dad, as they drove home from the factory on Saturday.
“Oh, c’mon Pops, I’m already working like six days doing errands and cleanup and I’ve got football four nights a week now, too, c’mon,” complained Nick.
“You ever listen to yourself? You sound like a freshman not a senior,” answered Nick’s Dad, but he wasn’t laughing. It was a stern warning to Nick. They often had these types of conversations when they were alone, when Nick’s Mom wasn’t within hearing distance.
“Alright, I’ll get over there next week,” said Nick, giving in stubbornly.
On Monday the sky cleared and a stiff northeast wind picked up. Nick brought back lunch to the office and skipped out before his Dad could remind him to start work on his grandfather’s garage. He was at the yacht club twenty minutes later and had the sloop all setup when Laura showed up. This was her first time on a sailboat. Nick had Laura hold the tiller. Clear of the marina, Nick raised the mainsail.
“Just keep the tiller steady, the boat’s going to tip, but that’s ok, get ready,” said Nick.
Laura braced herself and then the sail caught the wind and the boat tipped hard.
“Waaah,” exclaimed Laura, laughing and her eyes popping.
“You’re doing fine, just keep it steady,” hastened Nick.
Nick was up front, raising the jib. The boat was flying along now, the adrenaline rush was so good Laura couldn’t stop laughing and smiling. Nick took a seat and watched her steer the boat, smiling back at her, thinking what a beauty she was.
For two weeks this was the afternoon for Laura and Nick, They’d sail for a couple of hours and talk and laugh. She learned to raise the sails, and tie them off, to steer and then cut the tiller hard and turn the boat. “You’re a natural,” Nick told her.
She became a useful boatmate, knowing the rigging, and when to get out of the way when the sail flew across the boat on a turn. It didn’t hurt her status that she had beautiful, graceful calves and arms, a bright smile and long, light brown hair. She and Nick were quite a team in the sloop, tacking into the wind that swooped up the river from Lake St. Clair. Laura loved to handle the tiller, and she loved the feeling of the boat bent sideways against the wind until she flew the tiller hard to the near side and the boat swung around, the sail catching the wind from the other side and the boat listing again windward.
Often they were out on the Lake itself flying along, an occasional wave catching the bow and throwing spray over the boat. Laura laughed and wiped the cool water from her face; she was something to see in the bright sunshine. Nick was addicted. He thought of little else and the weeks rolled by, mornings at the factory, afternoons on the water with Laura.
On Saturday, Nick, his Dad and younger brother Mike left for the factory before the rest of the house was up. They stopped this time at a small diner for a quick breakfast, hamburger patties with gravy and fried eggs and toast. Nick’s Dad knew the owner Jimmy from St. Luke Orthodox Church, and it was always a fun visit.
“So how’s Pappous’s garage coming along?” asked Nick’s Dad.
“Oh, I kinda forgot about that,” said Nick. “I’ll get after it this week.”
“What if the weather’s good, good wind, and Laura, she’s some girl, you can’t leave her alone now,” chided Nick’s Dad.
Nick let it go. No point in letting the old man get under his skin. Anyway he had a date with Laura that night, her first Saturday night off since he met her.
They took care of some of the odds and ends around the office and the factory, tasks that were difficult to do during the work week. Nick’s Dad was smart about it, “why should I hire a cleaning crew when I’ve got four kids?” was his answer. Nick and his brother did the cleaning, while his Dad caught up on paperwork in the office. They finished just before noon.
“We’ve got to stop to see Pappous for a minute, on the way,” said Nick’s Dad.
“Ahh, I’m starving,” complained Nick.
“Me, too,” agreed Mike.
“A little starving might be good for you two,” teased Nick’s Dad.
Nick’s Grandfather’s city lot was filled with fruit trees. They pulled into the drive and there was Pappous on a ladder picking ripe apricots into a cloth pail attached to his shoulder and chest.
“Hey, Pappa,” called out Nick’s Dad.
“Johnny!” came back the answer from Pappous.
Nick’s Dad and Grandfather exchanged kisses. Then Pappous gave each of the boys a pinch on the cheek and a little more than gentle slap, which made both boys laugh.
“Can I have an apricot, Pappous?” asked Mike.
“Yeah, sure, I’ve got a whole box for you to take to your mother, she wants to bake and preserve she told me,” replied Pappous.
Nick was staring at the garage. “It looks fine,” said Nick, looking at his Grandfather, “do you really need it painted?”
“Haha, yeah it looks fine now,” said Pappous. “I had a boy come this week and paint it. Boy from the club, he likes to make money. I gave him couple of hundred. He plays ball, too, you know, he told me he plays for De La Salle, big strong kid.”
Nick’s Dad was staring at him to judge his reaction. It didn’t take long. Nick could feel his face burn a little.
“Your Dad told me, you’re very busy at the factory, and football, now, so, I hired it out, don’t worry, next time I’ll let Mike paint it,” said Pappous.
“He’s busy chasing a girl around,” said Nick’s Dad.
Nick wanted to belt the old man, but didn’t dare. How’d Pappous find Danny Redel to paint his garage? wondered Nick. The answer was already in the air.
“That Danny Redel is one hungry young man, ready to do what it takes,” said Nick’s Dad.
“You know,” started Pappous, “when my father came to this country, he washed dishes until he could learn some English, then he walked every morning before the restaurant opened and asked for a job at every tool shop. Finally, they took a chance on him. He became a master tool maker, now his grandson, John, he owns a factory. Huh? You gotta be a little more hungry Nick. Everything else, it comes, sure, girls, all that, but first you gotta be hungry.” He added a soft slap to Nick’s red face.
“Who’s Danny Red,” wondered Mike, gleefully innocent.
“He cooks your lovely dinner every Sunday at the club,” said Nick’s Dad, “and Nick knows him from football, he hits low and hard, hey Nicky?”
“Yeah, right,” agreed Nick, reluctantly. Danny used to date Laura, too, Nick was thinking now, that’s what really cut him, every time he thought about it.
The boys loaded the apricots into the truck.
“Bye Papa,” said Nick’s Dad, “we’ll pick you up tomorrow at 4:00 like usual.”
“Sure Johnny,” said Pappous. And they exchanged kisses.
Nick and Mike yelled out “bye” and “see you tomorrow,” and off they went.
Nick went to pick up Laura at 6:00 that night, as they’d agreed. Mr. Giordano let him in. Her family was just sitting down to eat, but she was still upstairs.
“Laura’s expecting you, she’ll be right down, have a seat, you’re the boy with the boat, huh?”
“Yes sir, I have a small sloop,” answered Nick.
Nick took a seat on a small bench in the foyer. He could smell a nice meal being served in the dining room and upstairs he heard Laura laughing on the phone. In a few minutes she came down.
“Hey Nick, give me a sec, I’ll be right back,” said Laura. She ducked into the dining room. He heard her muted voice say ‘Ok’ several times and then she was back and they left together.
“Everything Ok.” wondered Nick.
“Yeah, home by eleven, that’s the rule,” answered Laura.
“We still have time to eat, before the game,” said Nick. “Pizza ok? or we can go for burgers by the ballpark.”
“I won’t say no to pizza,” voted Laura. “Rocky’s Bar?”
“Perfect,” said Nick, “I love Rocky’s pie.”
They talked easily and had a lot in common now. Laura knew Nick’s whole family from the club and got a big kick out of his younger brothers. They ordered their pizza, and drinks and continued talking, the conversation never took a breath.
“Your Dad is pretty cool, too, like how he gave that painting job to Danny, in the kitchen you know, he really could use the money,” said Laura.
Nick was quiet, letting Laura go on for a bit, and then the conversation ground to a halt.
“You still talk to him?” asked Nick.
“Danny? Well he works in the kitchen, so yeah, but that’s really all, I mean, we don’t go out or anything,” answered Laura.
“That wasn’t him on the phone when I came over, that you were laughing with?” asked Nick.
“What? That’s a little over the top, Nick,” replied Laura, sitting back in her chair, staring at Nick like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
“That kid just bugs me, he’s such a, I don’t know what,” said Nick, in a confused tangle of thoughts of his own making.
“Danny’s a great guy, he doesn’t talk that way about you,” replied Laura.
The conversation dragged on until the pizza came. They ate and the mood lightened, with the help of the pizza. “This is so good,” they both said.
Nick paid the bill, and Laura offered to put down the tip. On the way out the door, Laura gave Nick a playful shove in the back and said “Well, I get to see both of you play in a few weeks, first game of the season.” Nick knew she was just teasing so he let it go, but it bothered him. They drove downtown to the ballpark and got some cheap tickets from a guy with two extras and a soft spot for teenagers short of cash. It was a good game, entertaining. Laura was feeling pretty good about having found a little weak spot in Nick’s armor.
“Danny’s a pretty good baseball player, too!” said Laura mischievously, obviously looking for a response.
“I know,” replied Nick, “we play them like four or six times a season,” smiling a little, pleased that Laura teased him; it was endearing. She even rubbed his shoulder when she laughed.
The Adamos family came to dinner at the club on Sunday evening. They had spent the day on the big sailboat, the racer John plied each year in the Port Huron to Mackinac race. It was a good day of sailing. The boys and their Dad manned the sails pretty well, and the girl, the youngest, and her Mom did what they could, too. It was a fun family outing to sail the boat together. Laura worked brunch on Sunday, and saw the boat leave the marina earlier that day. She was already gone by the time they returned. Nick’s Dad asked who was working in the kitchen tonight, but Nick didn’t recognize any of the names. That chaffed him a bit, thinking that Laura and Danny both had the night off.
On Monday, Laura changed before leaving work. She walked along the canal, expecting to find Nick prepping his sloop for sailing. It was a perfect day, good wind and blue skies. But the boat was covered up, tarped as Nick called it, and he was nowhere in sight.
Nick left the factory at 2:00 that afternoon, and at 3:00 he was at school, doing a weight session with his teammates.
“Well, look who wandered in,” said one of the boys, annoying Nick; but he kind of expected it, having been absent most of the summer. His temperature rose a few more degrees when he saw Junior working on the bench press, oblivious to his entrance.