Lucille

I’d been on the road for days. I checked into a motel and headed for the bar across the road. I planned on a quick beer or four, a burger and my bed.

I was on my third beer, watching the Astros and dreaming about football season when she sat down next to me.

“Hey, Bobby.”

“Hey, Lucille,” said Bobby, the bartender, immediately pouring her two fingers of Jack and a glass of water.

“You’re the best, Bobby,” she said, knocking back the whiskey in one shot. “I’ll drink the next one nice and slow.”

“Don’t slow down for me, sugar,” he said, pouring her another, “but Jimmy won’t be happy.”

“I am done with Jimmy. D-O-N-E, done,” she said, downing the second whiskey, making herself a liar in less than a minute.

“You’re new around here,” she said, and I realized she was talking to me.

“No, just passing through, ma’am,” I said, raising my glass to her and drinking my beer.

“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t ma’am me. I ain’t that old yet.”

“Just being polite.” I looked at her and realized she was quite young for a whiskey drinker…and temptingly soft in all the right places.

She must have noticed my admiring glance because she moved a little closer and said, “So, what’s your name, stranger? I’m Lucille.”

“Hank.”

“Pleased to meet you, Hank,” she said, extending her hand.

“Likewise, Lucille.”

“Get this man a beer, Bobby.”

“No, need. I’m done here,” I said to her. “Check, please,” I said to Bobby.

“Oh, don’t go yet, Hank. We was just getting to know each other.”

“I’ve had a long day, a long few days with more coming up. I’m going to bed. But, thanks, Lucille.”

She leaned over and whispered so only I could hear her, “I could keep you company for a while if you like.”

Before I could decide if I wanted company or not, a big man walked over to Lucille, hat in his big, calloused hands. I thought for sure I was about to get my butt beat over a woman I hadn’t even approached when I saw his eyes fill with tears and I heard him say,

“You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille. Four hundred children and a crop in the field. I’ve had some bad times, lived through some sad times, but this time your hurting won’t heal; you picked a fine time to leave me Lucille.”

And then he left. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the bastard at the same time I wondered how the hell that pretty little thing had four hundred children. Was that even humanly possible?

“Four hundred children?” I asked.

“Four hundred children?” She repeated, confused.

“That man, your husband, I guess, said you left him with four hundred children.”

She laughed until she cried. “You think I’ma bunny?” she laughed some more. “Or a seahorse, maybe.”

“But he said…”

“Jimmy was exaggerating as he likes to do but he said four hungry children. Hungry children. But I left dinner on the stove; all he had to do was warm it up when he came in from working. The big’uns know how to put the littluns to bed. And he is not my husband: He’s my boss. Was my boss. I took care of his kids and his house. His wife died giving birth to the baby, Cheryl Lynn, a few years ago. I used to babysit for them. Once she was gone, it just seemed natural to take care of things, ya know?”

“I guess.”

“But I’m done. He wants me to work 24 hours a day, seven days a week: He asked me to marry him. Well, that is not gonna happen. I’m too young to be tied down to one man, a farm and four babies, no matter how cute they are. So, here I am," she said, looking at me hopefully.

Unfortunately, any desire I had to get my hands on her curves had dissipated with Jimmy’s sad eyes and broken heart.

“Bobby, add a whiskey to my check for Lucille.” I paid the bill then said, “You have a good night little lady.”