So, it's a girl, Alec thought. That made it worse.
The pink smoke billowed impressively out of the firework. Shelly and Jim had only the one, which was less impressive, but he guessed it was enough for a backyard barbecue; it was enough for their little circle of friends.
The six of them worked together at the fish packing plant. Overnight, 12-hour shifts, six or seven days a week. Not that any of them really showed up for that many days. He didn't, anyway. It was the running joke: Must be we have to work today; Alec is here. He wondered what they said when he wasn't there.
Julio went over and collected the firework when the pink sputtered out and died. Of course he did. Julio was the leader, if they had one. He drove the rusted out Ford minivan which took all of them back and forth to work. He decided when they left, what gas stations they stopped at for coffee or smokes. Julio was used to deciding things for the group.
What would he decide about Shelly and Alec? Their innocent baby girl. Alec couldn't believe he was going to be a girl dad.
As if Julio could read his thoughts, his dark eyes sought Alec's as he walked back from the abandoned parking lot across the street from Jim and Shelly's trailer. There was amusement in those eyes, Alec thought, along with something else. It couldn't be judgment.
Jim was the most reliable worker of the group. Jim hadn't missed a day all summer. Or fall. And that included the seven-day work weeks they had most of the summer. His reliability is what had cuckolded him.
Alec took a chug of his beer, put the bottle down on the deck next to his lawn chair. He watched the group gathering around Julio with the burnt out firework: Jim and Julio and Donovan remarking on the burn pattern and the fuse mechanism; Shelly and Andrea off to one side, watching the boys. Shelly held an arm over her stomach, though she didn't have a baby bump yet. She looked wistful.
How had it started? In the van, that morning when he and Shelly had crashed out in back together. July, probably: at 7 a.m. it was broad daylight and already hot. The air rushed in the open windows as Julio sped them along the highway, making any conversation impossible without shouting, but they were all wiped out from work anyway. He had thought Shelly was sleeping. None of the others could see them there behind the bench seat. She lay flat on her back, arms splayed out, with one boot off and her T-shirt tucked up into her bra. He was crammed up, back against the bench seat, resting his head on his backpack. Her eyes were closed. He traced her form with his eyes, lingering on her smooth stomach. The way it rounded up a little around her belly button.
When he made it back up to her face, Shelly was looking at him. He hadn't even noticed that she had turned her head to him. But, she smiled and held his eyes with her blue sparkles, instead of judging him, and he hadn't been able to look away, until he panicked with worry that someone would catch them gazing.
Jim was coming up on the deck. He was beaming, his sandy mustache spread out over his grin.
“Alec, I'm glad you could make it,” he said, extending his bottle of beer to him.
Alec grabbed his beer and clinked the bottle against Jim's. “Of course,” he said as he stood up. “Congratulations, man.”
“Thank you, thank you.”
“Yeah, helluva a thing, having a kid. And a girl, no less.”
“I can't believe it.”
“Did you know it was a girl?”
“No, Shelly wouldn't tell me. I tried everything, but she kept it secret.” Jim laughed. “I only hope it looks like her.”
“Me too,” Alec said, and Jim laughed.
Julio was coming up the steps to join them. “We all hope it looks like Shelly,” he said. The way he looked at Alec when he said it, though. Like he knew something.
But how could he? After that morning in the van, he and Shelly hadn't even spoken to each other. At least not around the others. It's like a world had opened between them in that first gaze, along with an agreement to keep it secret. They kept apart at work, and Shelly stopped riding in back with him on the way home, making a complaint about her back. She had swapped places in the van with Jim though. It's one of the reasons Alec had stopped going to work so much: he grew paranoid that she was avoiding him, sending Jim to ride with him in the back to remind him she was married, to punish him for looking, for even thinking it.
And then she had skipped work too, texting him in the middle of the night so that he knew she was skipping. He didn't dare answer her first 'wyd'; how could he know it wasn't a trap? She was surely going to show Jim if he texted her, and Jim would tell everyone. He couldn't bear the thought of the shame.
The next night at work, when he stood on the gut line waiting for the conveyor and the long night to start, Shelly ran over from the hand wash station and pressed herself subtly and gently against him. “Ready to do this?” she asked.
It was only a moment, the briefest of seconds that her body was against his, then she was moving to take a place at the far end of the line. She had set his blood raging though, and hours of squelching guts from headless fish hadn't subdued it. The next week when she texted him he had immediately accepted her invitation to come over. She had kissed him at the door not ten feet from where he now stood.
Jim had moved to the far end of the deck to fire up the grill. Donovan and the girls were cavorting in the street. Julio stood right beside him. He turned his back to the group, tapped his bottle against Alec's and said, sotto voce, “Congrats, Papá.”
His eyes had that amused light in them, and Alec couldn't look away. He couldn't say anything either. Couldn't get the words out to protest.
“Pendejo!” Julio laughed. “You think you're the only one having that forbidden fruit?”
“Like I say, we all hope it looks like Shelly.”
Oh my - you are a WRITER, a great storyteller - wow!
Have you published?
We used to have these writing groups at Hive ("Isle of Write" and the Inkwell, which is still alive and well, and others) ... I hosted writing contests, I edited manuscripts (for free, always), encouraged newbies,
--But never mind that. YOU ARE A NATURAL. I love the way you write.
Send links to more! Do you have a collection of short stories? A novel in mind (or on paper)? A literary agent?
I read a lot of fiction here at Hive (or used to!). Rarely do I come across a voice like yours!
WELL DONE!!
Thank you so much for the encouraging comments. It has been awhile since anyone was so enthusiastic about my writing; it's exactly the note of encouragement I needed.
As far as publication goes, I published a serial in a newspaper back in 2009-2010. Since 2018, I have written for and published exclusively on Hive. At times over the past 8 years, Hive has seemed like a place a writer could earn a living and be read; not so much at the moment, though I haven't given up on us.
Thanks for reading through my recent work. I'll offer three links to stories and a poem that I think are among my better ones here. The poem especially you might enjoy.
Heart Blood
In the House of Shelly
A Love Poem for Katt (poem)
I appreciate the share on X. I'm cgcliffordgreen on there. I'm looking to expand from Hive, get back to submitting work and write some longer stories, so exposure to the rest of the world is great.
Thank you again for reading.
Thanks for the links, and sorry it's taken me so long -
The rapist story. A brutal read.
I just read a 400-page manuscript for a friend of 15+ years and questioned some of the characters behaviors -- she sent me a diatribe, ridiculing me, going on the defensive --
Her agent rejected it, calling it a Christian novel. Guess what. It reads like a Christian novel.
The hours I spent reading and responding with honesty and much enthusiasm and many affirmations and (always!) pointing out all that is GOOD in the novel (too many critique-ers and workshoppers neglect to do this) -- the YEARS I've spent on the phone listening to this author complain about her family --
I'm done.
Nobody wants my honest feedback.
You are a talented writer, Cliff!
I have a longer story, the newspaper serial I mentioned, which needs a good reader. I hope that I would be able to handle honest criticism. I have revised this story off and on over the past 10 to 15 years, and I'm currently working on brushing up the complete second draft for release on Hive. I know that if it's ever going to be truly finished, it needs a reader. I'm contemplating inviting readers when I publish to Hive, with an eye toward setting any readers that offer constructive comments as beneficiaries on the chapter posts. Is that something you might be interested in doing?
Thank you again for the attention you've given my work. It's great to have someone actually read the stories, and of course being called a talented writer is encouraging. That kind of feedback is what we writers live for, isn't it? :)
Cliff, I have read literally hundreds of manuscripts, some published eventually, some not.
So yes, I'm interested.
"Naked newborns" are my specialty - your first draft is safe in my hands.
First drafts are almost always flawed and need some trimming and tightening, some development.
I had stopped doing critiques, but a friend recently got me to read her manuscript. She gets irate and defensive and even insulting toward me - sorry, lady, I don't care if you've published half a dozen small-press book and you're a paid editor: you don't get to argue with the reader. I wasn't saying she had to change or revise; I was questioning stuff. "Do you really know people in real life who say/do things like this" - or something as simple as "You say the phone bings, but later it pings" -- I don't know anyone who says it "bings" -
Well, never mind her, and her insults (e.g., "You are aware that people can be bedridden for years, right?" and people can identify trees from acres away (yes, by shape and color, not by the bark)
Sorry
She was ridiculing me again yesterday.
I'm beta reading for her, and sharing my reactions, UNPAID, and she's stomping on me.
But.
Yeah, I'll beta read again, but if it's too graphic in the horror genre, or explicit sex that's badly written, or setting dogs on fire, sorry, I'll say "I can't keep reading."
2germanic at gmail dot com
An intriguing story of love, pregnancy, and betrayal—all the complications that arise in a romantic relationship. A very good story.
Thanks for sharing your story with us.
Excellent day.
Hi, thanks for reading it. :)
Update: @cliffagreen, I paid out 0.121 HIVE and 0.012 HBD to reward 1 comments in this discussion thread.
Shared on X - I'd tag you, if you're on X too.
I felt the same way, and I found a service that actually makes casual chatting with an AI feel surprisingly natural. During my search I stumbled upon GoLove AI and though I wasn’t sure at first, I was impressed with how the AI could joke back, keep track of our earlier topics, and even switch between serious and lighthearted modes as the conversation shifted. It’s like talking to someone who’s always ready for whatever direction you want to take, whether that’s deep thoughts or goofy humor.