Icy Pour (Walt’s on Water #1)

1. Johnny

JOHNNY

“Workforce reduction—”

Those are the words the overdressed, out-of-place corporate shark in his three-piece-suit used. The company’s cutting its workforce in half. And I’m one of the unlucky bastards in the fifty percent that’s not sticking around.

His words hit my stomach like a bowling ball barreling down the lane.

More like if the bowling ball was inside a pinball machine ricocheting around and knocking the breath from my lungs, pinging every rib in my chest, then bursting through every chamber of my already shattered heart before landing back in my stomach to its final resting place.

My eyes are paralyzed, fixed on a faded, out-of-date CPR poster in the break room they brought us in to deliver the news. I walk through this room five days a week, and I’ve never noticed this sign before. But damn if my chest doesn’t ache like it needs resuscitating. Either that or I need a drink.

Normally, I’d be taking a quick break at work—a few minutes to get my head straight.

I’ve never been a smoker, but sometimes I step out with the nicotine crew to get some fresh air.

I run my thumb across my lip. Well…maybe fresh isn’t the best term for standing outside in forty-degree weather in a fog of smoke.

But it’s a nice break from the loud noise and demanding job in the factory. I scuff my shoe against the linoleum.

It’s a noise I won’t have to deal with anymore.

This time of day, Rich and Sandy are usually talking about the latest episode of Dallas, arguing over whether records or cassette tapes are better, or giving me shit for not converting to a Wisconsin fan since I live here now.

And I give them shit right back about how Northerners can’t be true fans of football this far from the great state of Alabama.

Well…mostly great state. I swallow the lump lodged in my throat.

I tear my eyes away from the poster and shake my head.

What I wouldn’t give to be arguing about what team is better at throwing a ball over a hundred yards of turf instead of this bullshit.

Don’t go there, Johnny.

Today started like any other day. Woke up to my alarm clock screaming, my hand fumbling blindly to shut the damn thing off.

Then I shuffle down the hall—three scoops of grounds in the filter and a pot full of water to produce enough caffeine to get me through my day.

And, of course, my usual Triple S—shit, shave, and shower.

After throwing on my coveralls, I make a quick sandwich for lunch, pour the coffee in the thermos, and head to work.

Nothing out of the ordinary in the slightest. Nothing hinting that my world was about to be flipped upside down with two simple words.

My stomach drops as I catch a glimpse of Sandy.

Her hand covers her mouth, tears well in her eyes while Rich stands across the room with a murderous look in his.

The mix of emotions in this room is like the old can in your garage full of random nails, screws, nuts, and bolts.

Stick your hand in blindly, and you could find exactly what you’re looking for or a nail straight through your palm.

My stomach twists—at this point I’m not sure which one I’d rather have.

The office staff hands each of us a packet and informs us our final checks will be in the mail next week, then we are escorted to grab our things, punch our timecards, and head out the door where the sting of the winter air hits my lungs like a million tiny razor blades.

“Ten years.” Sandy finally breaks the silence we’ve stood in for the past few minutes. “I’ve been here ten years. I gave my all for this company every day, and all I get is a lousy ‘thanks for your service’ and a swift kick out the door. I…I can’t believe it.”

“I can believe it. Fuckers,” Rich snaps as he slams his hand onto the hood of his truck.

“I knew these corporate assholes would do some stupid shit like this! I bet not one of them will take a dip in their goddamn profit sharing, but we lose everything we have. Guess I’d better go home and tell the missus to start clipping more coupons ’till I find something new. ”

I nod in solidarity as several folks walk solemnly to their cars and head home, their bodies showcasing exactly how I feel.

“Yeah,” Sandy echoes, her shoulders falling.

“I’m gonna go grab a paper and see what’s out there while my son’s still at school.

This is the part where being a single mom sucks even more.

I can’t afford a day without pay, much less a week or a month.

We’re barely scraping by as it is.” The mist fills her eyes again, but she never lets it fall.

Sandy is a tough gal. And a damn good worker.

She’ll find something quick. So will Rich.

“At least you only have yourself to take care of,” she looks to me. “What are you gonna do today, Johnny?”

I freeze, my brows narrowed at the complexity behind such a simple question. How do I even answer her? What do you do when you suddenly have unlimited free time and no one to answer to but yourself?

I clear my throat, finally finding the will to say anything. “I think I’ll go for a walk; see if I can make some sense out of all this.”

“Stay warm,” Sandy says as she and Rich both get in their cars. “And finally accept you’re in Wisconsin now. I won’t be able to remind you every day anymore.”

I snicker. “Will do. You two take care. Drinks next week?”

“I’m sure I’ll need one by then,” Rich grumbles over the frame of his car door. “Where you wanna meet?”

“Heard there’s a new bar that just opened over on Water Street. I’m gonna check it out today. I’ll call you both with the details, and we’ll find a time.”

“Sounds good.” Sandy nods as she pulls away, Rich following behind her for the last time.

My gaze follows, watching their cars merge onto a bustling street on a busy weekday morning. The sunlight glares off their windshields, the perfectly clear sky mocking the dreary, new reality we’ve all been handed.

I can’t imagine having a family to provide for. On one hand, I’m relieved to only have to worry about myself. On the flip side…they have family to go home to.

I have no one.

I struggle to swallow past the thickness in my throat. I’ve been alone for years. Gotten used to it for the most part, but for some damn reason it presses in deeper today. I let out a loud sigh, shoving my cold hands in my pocket and walk toward the Third Ward.

I’ve moved thousands of miles from home for a fresh start, and somehow I feel farther away than when I left.

I’ve always lived, survived, by taking things day by day.

My grandma, god rest her soul, always used to quote that scripture from the Bible, ‘Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.’ That’s one verse in that book I can get behind.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Tomorrow I’ll worry about tomorrow.

But today? Today I need a drink.