Marfa on a Monday

This is my latest entry in the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge.

Genre: drama.

Location: a roadside attraction.

Object: shampoo.

Word Count: 1,000 or less.

Synopsis: What do Prada, Pringles, and Pantene have in common? Let Lydia and Mark tell you in their own words.

Photo by Gower Brown on Unsplash

THEN

My left flip-flop slid from under me. I landed on my behind in a sticky soup of gravel, dirt, and uh, maybe... semen? I couldn’t see much with the sun blinding me. I shouldn’t have left the Prada sunglasses Mark gave me for my fortieth birthday in the car. His wild laughter reached me from the Prius parked on the side of Route 90 next to a fake Prada storefront near Marfa, Texas.

            “Get over here,” I yelled. “Help me up.”

            Mark tumbled out of the car, struggling to breathe, laugh, talk, and walk all at the same time. “That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. “Are you okay?”

I nodded and shot him the finger, making him laugh even harder.

            He pointed at the hand I’d used to break my fall. “What’s that?”

            Gooey, white liquid oozed from between my fingers. “It’s a mystery to me,” I said.

            An 18-wheel truck snatched his attention. He turned to the road, raised two fists, and pumped both arms up and down until the trucker rewarded him with two air horn blasts. He cheered and turned back to me with a shimmering smile. At that moment, I knew he’d eventually be okay—maybe better than okay.

            He helped me up, and I wiped my grimy hand on my shorts. A Pringles can, caught in a small dust devil whirlwind, hit the front of the fake store, landing in a little pile of trash. We stared at the storefront in silence until he said, “Lydia, why is this building here?”

            I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not sure. Why are we here?”

            “Because you said you wanted to see it.”

            “No,” I replied. “I mean, why do we exist?”

            He draped an arm across my shoulders and smiled that killer smile. “I’m not sure. Probably to take Instagram selfies.”

            “You’re probably right,” I said. We stared at each other for a beat before breaking into giggles that turned to chuckles that turned to absurd laughter—the kind where no sound escapes, leaving you breathless. When I could talk again, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and said, “It’s selfie time. Turn around and show off those expensive teeth.”

            We posed with our backs to the architectural art installation. I raised the phone high for the perfect angle to make my middle-aged double chin disappear. Mark had no such worries. He was only twenty-eight and fresh out of a six-month stint in a fancy, private pay drug rehab facility. Healthy food, counseling, daily meditation, yoga classes, and no illicit substances had done him good. Not to mention his hefty trust fund that bought him a second chance at life after drugs destroyed his teeth, his body, his soul.

            Our friendship was as unlikely, odd, and beautiful as the Prada store in the background of the picture residing in my phone. As a high school dropout lacking motivation, Mark had worked for me at Burger King. I was the manager, but I didn’t want to be there.

Mark was the only bright light in my life back then. He was the opposite of me. He liked serving Whoppers, and he was good at it. He was the skinny boy with acne and a great personality, who the customers loved until addiction slowly ate him alive, bite by bite. I fired him when I caught him pocketing cash long before his grandfather died, leaving him the oil money that damn near killed him before it saved him.

            The wind picked up. I put my phone back in my pocket and headed to the car. I was hot, tired, and ready to head home to Alpine, where I taught anthropology at Sul Ross State University. It happened to be my birthday, and a Monday off for Labor Day. I had to return to the classroom the next day.

            “What’s your hurry?” Mark asked. “Are you telling me we drove to the middle of nowhere just to take a picture?” He didn’t wait for my answer. He trotted up to the glass storefront and peered inside.

I joined him in front of the stark display of handbags and high heels behind the shatterproof glass. It took everything in me to squelch the mama instinct to wrap Mark in a bear hug and never let go. He was a grown man who didn’t need or want another mother, but all I saw was the kid with acne I’d grown to love. I’d never had a kid, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to scream, “Don’t hurt yourself. Please don’t hurt yourself anymore. I need you in my life.”

He stepped back as if he sensed the need in me to protect him, to save him from himself. He stumbled into the trash, covered in white goop, at the base of the building. Using his foot, he pushed a crushed plastic bottle of Pantene shampoo out of the garbage. “Looks like I solved the mystery.”

I felt laughter bubbling in me when I thought about what I’d wiped off my hand. A giggle escaped my mouth.

“What’s so funny?”

“Never mind,” I said. “Let's get out of here.”

NOW

I waited until the following Labor Day to return to the fake Prada store. It’s the last place I shared a memorable laugh with Mark, an addict and also a loving person. Eight months after that special day we’d spent together, he died of a meth overdose.

I parked across the road from the storefront and got out of the car. An 18-wheel truck approached. I raised two fists over my head and pumped both arms up and down until the trucker rewarded me with two air horn blasts. I cheered with tears in my eyes.

At that moment, I heard Mark’s laughter, remembered his smile, and felt his spirit; it left me breathless. I’m sure he’s finally okay. Actually, better than okay. When I see him again, I will be too.

*****

This story did not place in the contest. I did not move forward into the second round. I did eat an entire bag of two-bite brownies, which turned into about 342 bites. That did not make me feel any better about not advancing. The judges' comments are below:

''Marfa on a Monday'' by Dana Starr -     WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY - {1894}  The friendship between these two characters is handled well. It's obvious that Lydia cares deeply for Mark, and their closeness feels very special. He seems to be happy with the friendship, too, which adds to the sadness seen later. Giving the reader insight into Mark's previous struggles was a smart move, as it helps ease the reader into the eventual end.   {2179}  I love the rapport you establish between Lydia and Mark. They have an authentic and relatable quality to their conversation. You do very well at illustrating the tragic trajectory of their relationship. It's compelling how you jump between times, senses, and feelings in this piece. It shifts from comedic to tragic in a beat. I appreciate that their connection is not conventional, but rather based in sincerity. Thank you for sharing your work. I loved reading it.  {2423}  The reappearance of an 18 wheeler works well to link the two moments in time and give the main character closure. I loved that image of the pringles can in the dust devil; it was odd and also artistic, much like Marfa.  

WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK - {1894}  Consider giving the reader more insight into the relationship dynamic upfront. It's a little hard to understand who the characters are at first, so explaining their relationship and giving some insight into their personalities right away can help ground the reader. To do this, it might be helpful to cut some of the opening conversation as it takes a while for the story to start moving along. If the reader knows right away who the characters are and why they're stopped at this place, it will create an easy route to understanding the dynamic at play and open up more opportunity for an emotional connection.   {2179}  There is a bit of an abrupt humor in the opening lines that I might temper, not for censorship, but to make sure that the true purpose of the introduction is not obscured. We want to get to know Mark, as we have a limited amount of time with him. You might incorporate the second sentence into a different part of the paragraph, once we have established who these people are. I think floating as it is, " landed on my behind in a sticky soup of gravel,

dirt, and uh, well... semen?" can obscure the exposition a bit. This is just my take, and it might be interesting to experiment with placing that elsewhere. :) Thank you for reading my feedback.  {2423}  Semen is a strange substance to assume to have fallen into on the side of the road; since this is in the opening sentences, readers will expect that the characters are in a sexual relationship. The semen can be used to help readers get a sense of the main character: why would their mind jump to this choice? Consider, too how her unusual job trajectory (Burger King and anthropology) could be developed a bit more to give us an understanding of why she's drawn into friendship with Mark.