swahilimonkfish

Really fun dialogue, Tara's breathless pace and Laura's dry cynicism fizzing delightfully. Subtle world-building but mainly just humorous chit-chat and I'm here for it

Part 1
 
It started simply enough. Fingers dragging along a touchpad. Press down on the link, and it opened. It wasn’t the first time that Hettie had gone down a rabbit hole. No reason to think that this was different. Just an idle journey to a corner of the internet. And that was how it started.
The next day, and she was there again. Retracing her steps down the same rabbit hole that she had visited the day previous. Reading black words on blueish-grey background, eyes drifting slowly from left to right, until the line ended, and then back to the first line again. And, as she re-scanned the words that she was first acquainted not twenty four hours earlier, her hand drifted towards the millionnaire’s shortbread on her desk, half-eaten. It wasn’t half-eaten for long.
The day after, Hettie met up with some friends outside the lecture hall at the University of Coventry. They stood around in their flock and looked at their phones, occasionally unattending the screens to talk about how hard this week’s reading was. Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club. Will Self’s Quantity of Madness. Men and their stories. But Hettie wasn’t listening. Hettie wasn’t looking up from her phone. The pixels that she was staring at, had her eyes in a vice-grip. The other hand was in a packet of doughnuts. None of the other girls said anything, but they all noticed.
It took Faizah to intervene, a few days later. They hadn’t seen much of Hettie. The bouncy girl with the giddy smile. Missing the flat party and the Pride march set off alarms. So, Faizah intervened.
“Hey babe… you okay?”
“Mmmhmm”
Faizah paused, and collected her smile again.
“It’s just that we were hoping to go out. Do some shopping. Shay’s coming too”
“Don’t like Shay”
“Oh. Umm… since when?”
“Dunno”
Hettie hadn’t really looked up from her laptop the entire time. Eyes doing that march across the screen, like tired lemmings. The hand not on her keypad, was bringing a slice of cake to her lips. Most of it ended up between them. Some ended up on them.
“We were thinking of clothes shopping, maybe? Come on babe, Top Shop has a sale on, the store’s closing or something and…”
“I’m good”
“Are you though? You look like you could do with some new clothes”
It had only been a week. A week since it started. And the evidence had still made itself apparent. Hettie was never the most lithe girl. Not every curve was in the right place. Boxy was an adjective that had been used in the past, though only by those with a cruel way with words. But, especially compared to Faizah, with an elegant pose to go with her elegant shape.
Hettie was, undoubtedly, boxier than the week before. Fluffier. More cuddle-some. The undone button on her size 12 jeans were a feature that the previous seven days had forced upon her. The way her striped top pulled tight across her chest another strain of proof. 7 days had made 7 pounds. And the cause was smeared around her lips.
“Look, are you okay, babe? You can talk to me, you know?”
“I know”
Hettie still hadn’t looked up. Her eyes like an unattended lighthouse, with nobody to switch its beam on.
“You’ve… are you stressed? Everything okay at home? What aren’t you telling me babe? I’m a little worried”
“I’m fine”
Faizah took a deep sigh. She wouldn’t normally say what came next, but a perfect storm of concern and frustration were the perfect invitation for harsher words.
“You’ve been eating… well. Like, quite a bit, recently”
“Have I?”
Hattie replied, as the cake slice rose to her maw once more.
“Yeah, you’ve… I think you might have put on a few. Quite a few, actually. I’m… well, me and the girls, we… we’re a bit worried”
Hattie paused. Her eyes for the first time left the blasted screen, and worked there way up to Faizah. There was somebody home in there, at all.
“It’s fine Faizah. Honestly, it is. I’m just… cutting loose a bit. I mean, you’re only at university once. Why not? After this, it’s all desk jobs and drudgery. So, I’m enjoying myself for these three years. Three years of freedom. Before the bone-crushing reality of adult inevitability. To do whatever the fuck we want. So I’m savouring it. Enjoying it. Making the most of it. Because, after these three years, life starts. This is all just the prelude”
And with that, Hattie’s eyes turned back to her screen. And Faizah just stood there, her mouth open wider than Hattie’s.
“What’s got into you, Hattie? You are acting so fucking weird, you’re creeping me out. And what the… actual… fuck… is on that laptop that is so fucking enchanting?”
If she hadn’t have asked that question, at that precise point in time, maybe it would have ended. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it was destined to leak out anyway. I guess we’ll never know. But things are the way they are, and things were the way they were and Faizah asked that question. And it was then that that which had at that point merely started, continued.
+
Hafsah went to reach in the cupboard for her crisps. For 30 of her 42 years, she had always ended her evening with a packet of Walker’s salt and vinegar crisps. Just part of her evening routine. The soft potato chip, the quiet sharpness of the vinegar’s acid, and Eastenders on the telly. It was just how it was. It was just how it always was. But it wasn’t that way tonight.
“Imran!”
She waited for the inevitable grumble, the lumbering footsteps and her youngest son to appear in the kitchen. But nothing.
“IMRAN!”
She stood still and sighed. No noise but the clicking of the kitchen clock on the wall. He must have had his headphones on. Kids and their bloody headphones.
She dragged herself up the stairs, muttering under her breath about it was always the same with the youngest one. Not like his brothers, or his sister, it was always the youngest one. At the top of the stairs and first bedroom to the right, she banged on the door.
No reply, so she opened it.
“Oh my god mum, don’t you knock!” he said, crouching beneath his bed to hide his naked body.
“I literally just knocked and you didn’t answer!”
“I was having a shower”
“You should have still answered”
“I didn’t hear! I was having a shower! What the hell, you’re so embarrassing!”
His mum just rolled her eyes at him.
“You know, I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed, I’ve seen it all before. You were born naked you know”
“Oh my god mama, you’re so embarrassing at times…” he paused with his eyebrows raised. “...Well?”
“What?”
“What is it that you want?”
“My crisps”
“You are kidding me. For real? You broke into my room…”
“I didn’t break in. It’s my room and your father’s room. We paid for it. If you want to put some money towards the mortgage, that’s fine. Then maybe it will be your room. But, until then, it’s my room and you are a guest. Now where are my crisps?”
“I don’t know!”
“Don’t you lie to me, Imran. I know it’s you”
“It’s not. For real, it’s not”
“Well then, who had them? Because they’re not there. I bought an 8-pack of them yesterday and now they’re gone. You better not be selling them, trying to make money of my crisps. You’re as bad as your father, Imran”
She folded her arms assertively.
“It’s… try next door. I don’t know, but I bet she’s got them”
“Your sister? Your sister wouldn’t pull anything like this. She’s a good girl, unlike you”
“Because I’m not a girl or because I’m not good…”
“Don’t you get smart with me, Imran, I swear to Him I will…”
“She’s been acting weird all week. I bet it’s her. I bet it’s Faizah who took them. Like crisps are so important anyway”
Within thirty seconds of that defence, there was another bang on the door. On the door of her only daughter, Faizah. Because, the truth of the matter was that Imran was right. About her daughter at least, he was wrong about pretty much everything else. But Faizah had been acting weird, and she had been acting that way all week. Faizah was a good girl. First woman in the family to go to university, paying her way through it by working evenings and weekends, and when all the other girls were philandering with boys and smoking ** in dingy student accommodation she was at home, with her parents, as it should be. This Coventry girl had dun good. At least, until the past week.
It started with a McDonalds. McFlurry and all. The empty packet was left in the outside bin, her mum noticed it when she emptied the dyson. It continued with fish and chips on the way back from campus. Faizah never ate chips. It was the enemy of a good skin complexion and was thus an enemy of Faizah. By the time that the weekend had swung around, baklava had been laid to waste, caramel fudge cake turned to ash and crumb, apple and blackcurrant pie put out to pasture.
“Faizah! You open this door, girl!
The room was not the room her mother remembered. Brown and orange walls, like something from the sixties, and just a bed and a dressing table for furniture. And a sea of silver-foiled detritus on the floor.
“Where are my crisps, girl? You better not have eaten them? Where are they?”
“Dunno”
“Wh… what sort of way is that to talk to your mother? Now, answer me properly when I talk! Look at me when I am talking to you, young woman!”
Faizah was near horizontal on the bed, and gradually lowered her laptop screen, to see her mum peering over it with her arms crossed. She made no sound, but she looked, with tired eyes. When was the last time that she had slept?
“What’s going on, Fai? This isn’t you. You’re a good girl. What… is it a boy? Because some boys your age are good-for-nothing…”
“Mum, I’m just busy reading”
“For university?”
“No, just… a story”
“What story?”
“Just a… well, come here mum, and I’ll show you. I think you’ll like it” her daughter moved the laptop to her side to make room for her mum to sit next to her. It was then that Hafsah got a full look at her daughter. A week later of utterly turpid eating habits rested ever so gently above the waistline of her pj shorts. Her daughter, her little daughter, her little angel, was looking a little less little than usual.
“What is it? I might have read it already?”
“I doubt it. It’s an online thing. It’s really good. It’s called A Free Hit. It’s by this author called Swahilimonkfish and it’s really good”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s about these young girls who go to university and… they decide to cut loose a little, since you’re only at university once. Why not? After this, it’s all desk jobs and drudgery. So, they’re enjoying themselves for these three years. Three years of freedom. Before the bone-crushing reality of adult inevitability. To do whatever the fuck they want. So they’re savouring it. Enjoying it. Making the most of it. Because, after these three years, life starts. This is all just the prelude”
And with that, her mother cautiously sat down, with a reserved scowl on her forehead. And so it continued, just as it started.
 

This opening is amazing, one of the best I've ever read. I have high hopes though that Smilyfy will return to it, however, I've pestered them about it recently and they mentioned that they would try to follow up on it, time permitting.
And I don't think I have any unfinished stories currently. Well, I have a folder of crappy stories that weren't good enough to finish, but them aside. And anyone's welcome to spin-off from anything I write, no permission needed.
There are also some brilliant unfinished stories mentioned here, really do hope the original writers get the chance to follow up on some of these.
And cool thread idea, hope you give some of these a go @1mn01

Brilliantly suspenseful. You don't just use imagery, you ratchet up the tension with wonderful audio descriptions that help you immerse in the experience. When you're asking us to take such a large leap of faith in terms of suspension of disbelief, this kind of work is key, and the sound of his scuffling shoes or the fading sounds of the campus party are evocative and immersive

Sounds a little bit like this one... 
Don't know if this is the one to which you are referring?
https://www.deviantart.com/y2qwert/art/Not-A-Loser-Too-842865655

The only thing I recognize here is Losing Control.

I'll be waiting for the results!!

I'm so excited about this!  Can't wait to see how things play out.

Hi guys, just a little thing I've been doing elsewhere. An award 'ceremony' for the best pieces of WG art and WG stories in various categories across the internet.
For this year, the nominees were announced 27/02, and the winners will be announced 27/03 (Going head-to-head with the Oscars XD). Below are all the nominees and, at the bottom, a link to a playlist of all the nominated works as well as a link to a Google Forms doc where you can vote for which one deserves to win. Please vote before the ones most deserving, but please check out the other nominees first, it's only fair on them that they have just as much chance as more established works. This isn't the Oscars after all...
 
The Fishery Awards 2022
 
The Nominees

Welcome to the nominees for this year’s Fishery Awards. I’m your host, Fishy McFishface, and I’m here to run through the best that this year has had to offer in terms of people and their accompanying blubber.
But before we go too far, I would like to mention this ceremony’s sponsor - Sadness. Sadness is an emotion that can be felt, and it can be yours for free. Yes, for free! Just use the discount code: WHYISTHEWORLDLIKETHIS and get free Sadness with same-day delivery. That’s Sadness: because when life gets you down, stay down, it’s easier that way!
Over the coming weeks, as we head towards the ceremony on 27th March 2022, we will hear more from the writers as they talk to Fishy Kimmell and Conan Roe’Brien, because that somehow makes you more likely to win awards apparently? Not how good it is or anything like that, oh no, but the capacity to schmooze. And when it is released also has a bearing for some reason. Awards suck balls, come to think of it.
Also note, these are nominated by you. So, if you’re wondering why x or y didn’t make it, it probably wasn’t nominated, unfortunately. Also, limited category size meant a lot of great work missed the cut in a lot of categories. I hoped this award would be a chance to celebrate your work, but I have spent most of my time worrying about the ones that didn’t get nominated. Awards really do suck balls.
Now, to the nominees, in order of interestingness or lack thereof:

Best Galactic Feature
The best story not set on Earth: often fantasy or sci-fi based.
The Covetous Priestess by TheCyrilFiggis
The Weasel of Malgoren by SilverPathfinder
Gaze Into The Obese by Westmetal
Ameyalli by ophion8118
Lyra’s Last Climb by AdiposeAdorer

There are a lot of people we expected here on this list; a veritable who’s who of fantasy WG experts. If it were based on name alone though, then it would be Westmetal’s to lose. As it is, it looks like a wide open race. Almost as wide open as the mouth of a… umm… fat person! Yeah!

Best International Feature
The best story partially or entirely set in a country where English is not a native language. Such as Germany. Or Canada.
F*ck America by Dania201
Double Date by SpartacusDA
Lady Luck by Marlow0

Okay, this category was shorter than most, but it is a clear case of quality over quantity. Watch out for Lady Luck by Marlow, who is expected to do well in a number of categories. However, never overlook F*ck America, as a sentiment or a potential Best International Feature.

Sexiest Weight Gain
The one with the sexiest weight gain. Funnily enough.
Lady Luck by Marlow0
The Weasel of Malgoren by SilverPathfinder
Gaze into the Obese by Westmetal
A Little Last Night Snack by bob123456789123
Perfectus in Mundo by BoboTheHoboWrites

Interestingly, this category has a large amount of overlap with the fantasy category. People just really love it when people gain weight in Mediaeval taverns or something, I guess. Fat wenches must be a popular thing; I guess you live and you learn.
Two nominees for Lady Luck already, and Silv and Westmetal picking up their second noms of the night too. And we all love noms here. Because of the whole, yaknow, fat thing. Nom? As in omnomnom? Feel free to laugh, don’t feel like you need to repress it or anything.
My personal nominee didn’t make the cut, unfortunately. Sunny’s New Normal has been robbed here. Robbed, I tell you.

Best Short
The best Short is Martin, but that’s not what this is. This is the best WG story with a solitary instalment. And speaking of solitary, don’t forget our sponsors: Sadness! Because feeling Sad means at least you feel something. Available every time you check Twitter. Or watch the news. Or think about where your life is heading.
Making a Point by Skinnybitch500
CFJK7: Amanda Won’t Gain Weight by TheCyrilFiggis
Meatier by ShrubberyLogistic
Wendy’s Weigh-In by AdiposeAdorer
An Over-Extended Summer by firewarrior121

One of my favourite categories, this one. Every one of these is a doozy. Cyril gets his second of the night, for the wonderful Amanda Won’t Gain Weight. Also, Skinnybitch500 gets her first, though unlikely to be her last. An Over-Extended Summer is perhaps the shock nominee here, a late release that has shot into the nomination slot. Whether that is recency bias or not, we can only find out.

Best Multimedia Story-telling
The story to feature more than one story-telling medium, be it writing, visual, gaming, or Derek Acorah (very niche British joke there).
Week of the Werefatty by Seeker9043
The Weit-Gainberg series by Westmetal ft. SilverPathfinder
Welcome to the Fat Parade by firedog98 and PeachPeachPlumb
Stories With Siren by SirensLair
Fed Up by Polarisdreamer and piengoo

This category is wonderfully eclectic. A game for Seeker9043 and an audio-thingy for Sirenslair make for a very interesting category. But the collabs are probably the big hitters, with the same names popping up, here as elsewhere. First nom for Polaris too, but one to watch for the future.

Best Animated Story-telling
Weight gain story-telling in a visual format, for those that believe that a picture tells a thousand calories.
Losing Control by Better-With-Salt
Nina and Lin by piengoo
a digital quickie by berserker1133
Moving Back Home by magmaman
Mandy by SIZE-SURPRISE

A few surprises here, but no surprise who the front-runner is. Better-with-salt has been the favourite here since the beginning. Magmaman has also had a good year and SIZE-SURPRISE has a strong following too. But I’ll eat my hat if it’s anything other than the Losing Control series. And, even though we like eating here, rarely do we endorse the eating of hats.

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Best Picture
No, not like the one at the Oscars. This is literally the best picture. One-off visual depiction of lovely squishy plumpness.
Nicole and Ashton by CSMKynes and TheCyrilFiggis
Bathing in Bliss - Sarya and Lucy by SilverPathfinder
Revenge 100 by Annonnxyz
Matilda Nolasco by firewarrior121
The Big Bellied Dancer by fatty-writes and WartimeSweets

SilverPathfinder will perhaps be low-key disappointed at just the one nomination here, and Annonnxyz will be a touch relieved to get a nomination here after harshly missing out in the previous category. Their Revenge series is great, but Revenge 100 is possibly the front-runner here. Also, watch out for Nicole and Ashton, there’s a real buzz about the Nicole series this year.

Best Ensemble
Some stories have a great character or two. This rewards stories with a whole host of great characters
Weighty Matters by skinnybitch500
The Big Bend by MrWrong1 and Monk001
Nicole by TheCyrilFiggis
Gradual Gains by fatty-writes
Megababe by Katie-KTL-Lunalia

And this is where things start to get serious, and some of the favourites for the top gong raise their heads. Weighty Matters, The Big Bend and Nicole will be glad to get some momentum for the later categories. But watch out for dark horses Megababe and Gradual Gains, two stories with a wonderful group of characters. This one really is a five-horse race.

Best Adapted Story
The best story inspired by real life or pre-existing works
What Both Of Us Wanted by Charisawriter
The Sorceress Stress Snacking by Westmetal
Keeping Katie Safe by SpartacusDA
Jill’s Swelling Stay at House Beneviento by Borin23
Step Into My Candy Store by VenusDeRubens

Westmetal is probably the king of the adapted story, but this is for one-off works and not cumulative efforts over a career. Charisawriter and VenusDeRubens will both consider this their best chance of an award, so expect fireworks. Not as in drama, but actual fireworks. And not by me, I’m skint, but by somebody, possibly at New Year. Yeah, at New Year, expect there to be fireworks, that’s what I’m saying.

Best Original Story
Best story not based on real-life or pre-existing IP. Not necessarily original in terms of ideas though. Because the plots are all the same: Person = fat = yum = more fat. Lazy hacks.
Army Wives by STC9892
Weighty Matters by Skinnybitch500
The Big Bend by MrWrong1 and Monk001
Meatier by ShrubberyLogistic
Megababe by Katie-KTL-Lunalia

And here we go, our closest look yet at who will be in the running for the top prize. First nomination for Army Wives, but they are probably the one to beat in this competition. A shock absence for Nicole, which is another one of the favourites for the big trophy, sees FDU mainstay Megababe arrive on the scene. Arriving on the scene ** and hungover, somehow, but arriving on the scene nonetheless. And Meatier, which narrowly lost out in the pre-cursor award ceremony run by SilverPathfinder here, gets a shock nomination.
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Now, because this is an American award show, we need to cram in way too many adverts, so here is another word from our sponsor: Sadness.
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Best Supporting Male
Not the best ‘supportive’ male, because there is no such thing. No, this award celebrates the men who don’t have to be the centre of attention, who don’t think the world revolves around them and don’t think we should check out the Joe Rogan Podcast “cuz it’s quite good actually”.
Will Goodwinn from 5 Little Piggies by TheCyrilFiggis
Darkwolf from The Flabtastic Pigwoman by Firedog98
George from Gradual Gains by fatty-writes
Scott from Fed Up by polarisdreamer and piengoo
Keith from Fed Up by polarisdreamer and piengoo

A lean category - literally as well as figuratively - with an unsurprising dearth of interesting male characters. It’s somewhat endearing to see that in this corner of the internet, it’s the men who get 2D characters and tropish roles, and the women who get agency and complexity and depth. And breadth. And width.
The first double-nom of the night for Fed Up, and the nice sight of Cyril celebrated for something beyond Nicole. But it is probably a George vs. Darkwolf toss-up, because nice guys don’t always finish last.

Best Supporting Female
This category celebrates those women who know their place… at award ceremonies!
Ashton Michaels from Nicole by TheCyrilFiggis
Stabigail from Tests by Skinnybitch500
Cowgirl from Pigwoman vs Cowgirl by Firedog98
Summer from Fed Up by Polarisdreamer and piengoo
Helena from BIG by Katie-KTL-Lunalia

Here is possibly the biggest upset of the night, as Zephyra from Lady Luck loses out to something called [checks notes, squints at it a little, checks with producer, shrugs] BIG. Despite BIG being seen as less mainstream than most nominees, the character clearly could not be contained. It’s worth noting that Fed Up have done well in the supporting categories here, but it does look like a clash between the old and the new. Ashton Michaels has been the favourite all year, but can jonny-cum-lately Stabigail overtake her at the final furlong? Both are fighters, so it should be exciting. And lesbians. But I don’t know why I mentioned that last part.

Best Lead Male
This category doffs its cap in the direction of the gentlemen who have at least as much screen time as Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Lambs.
Nathan Nixon/Feederman from Capes and Cuisines by TheCyrilFiggis
Shiva Shapiro from The Big Bend by MrWrong1 and Monk001
Max McWendy from To Become a Feeder by fatty-writes
Sam from Whatever the Cost by jentera
Captain Benedict Muir, RN from Lady Luck by Marlow0

This category seems to be bringing familiar writers with unfamiliar works to the fore, with fatty-writes and TheCyrilFiggis having a third story nominated. That shows real talent. Imagine being able to write more than one story within the space of a year instead of dragging your story about a truck driver out to nearly two years despite no discernible plot. Umm… yeah, sorry about that, don’t know where that rant came from.

Best Lead Female
We all like a female that takes the lead (ed. There’s a time and place man, and this ain’t it!), and this category celebrates the main characters who also happen to have boobies.
AE from Weighty Matters by Skinnybitch500
Sinead from Army Wives by STC9892
Nicole Valdez from Nicole by TheCyrilFiggis
Unnamed Protagonist from F*ck America by Dania201
Megababe from Megababe by Katie-KTL-Lunalia

This category was, hands down, the most competitive of the lot. Sunny from Sunny’s New Normal, Fallon Leslie from Breakdown, Adelaide from Lady Luck all would have got nominated in any other year. And I have genuinely no idea which of these will prevail. As far as I’m concerned, they all deserve it. And my opinion can be trusted, for I am a fish and fish never lie.

Best Writing
This celebrates the best writing. I feel like you coulda worked that one out without this explainer here, but it’s too late now, I’ve committed.
Army Wives by STC9892
The Big Bend by MrWrong1 and Monk001
Quality without Compromise by Sonic-Purity
Amusement and Adipose by n.o.p.e.2525
Lady Luck by Marlow0

Some expected and some unexpected names here. Despite not having a nomination so far, both n.o.p.e.2525 and Sonic-Purity storm into this category with two wonderfully idiosyncratic stories. Here, they rub shoulders with yet another nomination for the other three candidates, a real mix of Davids and Goliaths.

Best Story
And here it is, the big one. That’s how every weight gain story opens, but it also applies as a description for the shenanigans neath us. These are the ten (10) greatest WG and WG-adjacent stories told over the past 12 months. 12 months that have seen a plague, have seen prices spiral beyond most’s means, have seen the sovereign democratic nation of Ukraine invaded by a bloodthirsty psychopath. During these 12 horrific, gruelling, near-excruciating months these stories have not kept us going, because they’re just kink writing after all. But I reckon they’re pretty decent, all things considered.

Army Wives by STC9892
The Big Bend by MrWrong1 and Monk001
Lady Luck by Marlow0
Nicole by TheCyrilFiggis
Meatier by ShrubberyLogistic
What We Do For Likes by Faertraveler
Sunny’s New Normal by JakeMcDuck and sunshinefeedee
Fed Up by polarisdreamer and piengoo
Megababe by Katie-KTL-Lunalia
Weighty Matters by skinnybitch500

A huge thank you to everyone nominated! You wouldn’t believe the number of wonderful stories and artworks that missed out on categories despite being wonderful. If your work missed out, just presume yours was one of those unlucky ones I was referencing, and not one of the terrible ones that nobody liked XD.
Every person who has a nomination is allowed (downright encouraged) to brand their works with Fishery Award Nominee, Fishery Award 2022 Nominee, X Time Fishery Award nominee or Fishery-Award Nominated. Over the next month, you will have to try and rope your followers into voting below and raising the profile of your work, so as to become an award winner. If you succeed, you will be the proud owner of some Self-Esteem. It’s a bit like Sadness, but even better. I’m sorry I can’t actually deliver actual prizes, but I’m skint and disorganised and this whole thing was arranged on a whim. But you deserve all the prizes in the world, you’ve all been chest-swellingly(BE) excellent.
Now, who wins? Well, down below is a link to a Google Forms doc where you can fill in the survey, and literally vote for who wins! How cool is that? All you have to do is be a member of the Fishery Academy! I’m just kidding, there’s no such thing. Anyone can vote, just click the link and choose your favourites. However, please read/engage with every nomination first before voting. It’s only fair on the people here, especially those without a huge number of watchers, if you give each story a fair crack of the whip. You never know, a story you’ve never heard of, from a writer whose name you can’t pronounce, might just turn out to be the best thing for any given category.
 
LIST OF NOMINEES https://www.deviantart.com/swahilimonkfish/favourites/90617191/the-fishery-awards-nominees-2022

VOTE https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1xew8kTZ_xJRLFcgEt3xOlOJ-xbKifObuv0088X_45lg/edit?usp=drivesdk
 
And now you have voted, please hear a final word from our sponsor for the day: Sadness.
Have you ever watched the news? Are you sentient? Do you have feelings? Then you are probably drowning in Sadness. Well, good news, fellow Sad fans because Sadness 2.0 is out, with brand new features such as:
Existential dread.
Sense of guilt for something that happened a long time ago but appears in your head for some reason when you’re trying to go to sleep.
Insecurity.
Sense of guilt for feeling all of the above things.
Oh god I’m worthless.
Everything is worthless.
So check out Sadness 2.0 today! Trust us, you will regret it. And feel guilty about it. That’s one of the features.

 

Hi guys, just a little thing I've been doing elsewhere. An award 'ceremony' for the best pieces of WG art and WG stories in various categories across the internet.
For this year, the nominees were announced 27/02, and the winners will be announced 27/03 (Going head-to-head with the Oscars XD). Below are all the nominees and, at the bottom, a link to a playlist of all the nominated works as well as a link to a Google Forms doc where you can vote for which one deserves to win. Please vote before the ones most deserving, but please check out the other nominees first, it's only fair on them that they have just as much chance as more established works. This isn't the Oscars after all...
 
The Fishery Awards 2022
 
The Nominees

Welcome to the nominees for this year’s Fishery Awards. I’m your host, Fishy McFishface, and I’m here to run through the best that this year has had to offer in terms of people and their accompanying blubber.
But before we go too far, I would like to mention this ceremony’s sponsor - Sadness. Sadness is an emotion that can be felt, and it can be yours for free. Yes, for free! Just use the discount code: WHYISTHEWORLDLIKETHIS and get free Sadness with same-day delivery. That’s Sadness: because when life gets you down, stay down, it’s easier that way!
Over the coming weeks, as we head towards the ceremony on 27th March 2022, we will hear more from the writers as they talk to Fishy Kimmell and Conan Roe’Brien, because that somehow makes you more likely to win awards apparently? Not how good it is or anything like that, oh no, but the capacity to schmooze. And when it is released also has a bearing for some reason. Awards suck balls, come to think of it.
Also note, these are nominated by you. So, if you’re wondering why x or y didn’t make it, it probably wasn’t nominated, unfortunately. Also, limited category size meant a lot of great work missed the cut in a lot of categories. I hoped this award would be a chance to celebrate your work, but I have spent most of my time worrying about the ones that didn’t get nominated. Awards really do suck balls.
Now, to the nominees, in order of interestingness or lack thereof:

Best Galactic Feature
The best story not set on Earth: often fantasy or sci-fi based.
The Covetous Priestess by TheCyrilFiggis
The Weasel of Malgoren by SilverPathfinder
Gaze Into The Obese by Westmetal
Ameyalli by ophion8118
Lyra’s Last Climb by AdiposeAdorer

There are a lot of people we expected here on this list; a veritable who’s who of fantasy WG experts. If it were based on name alone though, then it would be Westmetal’s to lose. As it is, it looks like a wide open race. Almost as wide open as the mouth of a… umm… fat person! Yeah!

Best International Feature
The best story partially or entirely set in a country where English is not a native language. Such as Germany. Or Canada.
F*ck America by Dania201
Double Date by SpartacusDA
Lady Luck by Marlow0

Okay, this category was shorter than most, but it is a clear case of quality over quantity. Watch out for Lady Luck by Marlow, who is expected to do well in a number of categories. However, never overlook F*ck America, as a sentiment or a potential Best International Feature.

Sexiest Weight Gain
The one with the sexiest weight gain. Funnily enough.
Lady Luck by Marlow0
The Weasel of Malgoren by SilverPathfinder
Gaze into the Obese by Westmetal
A Little Last Night Snack by bob123456789123
Perfectus in Mundo by BoboTheHoboWrites

Interestingly, this category has a large amount of overlap with the fantasy category. People just really love it when people gain weight in Mediaeval taverns or something, I guess. Fat wenches must be a popular thing; I guess you live and you learn.
Two nominees for Lady Luck already, and Silv and Westmetal picking up their second noms of the night too. And we all love noms here. Because of the whole, yaknow, fat thing. Nom? As in omnomnom? Feel free to laugh, don’t feel like you need to repress it or anything.
My personal nominee didn’t make the cut, unfortunately. Sunny’s New Normal has been robbed here. Robbed, I tell you.

Best Short
The best Short is Martin, but that’s not what this is. This is the best WG story with a solitary instalment. And speaking of solitary, don’t forget our sponsors: Sadness! Because feeling Sad means at least you feel something. Available every time you check Twitter. Or watch the news. Or think about where your life is heading.
Making a Point by Skinnybitch500
CFJK7: Amanda Won’t Gain Weight by TheCyrilFiggis
Meatier by ShrubberyLogistic
Wendy’s Weigh-In by AdiposeAdorer
An Over-Extended Summer by firewarrior121

One of my favourite categories, this one. Every one of these is a doozy. Cyril gets his second of the night, for the wonderful Amanda Won’t Gain Weight. Also, Skinnybitch500 gets her first, though unlikely to be her last. An Over-Extended Summer is perhaps the shock nominee here, a late release that has shot into the nomination slot. Whether that is recency bias or not, we can only find out.

Best Multimedia Story-telling
The story to feature more than one story-telling medium, be it writing, visual, gaming, or Derek Acorah (very niche British joke there).
Week of the Werefatty by Seeker9043
The Weit-Gainberg series by Westmetal ft. SilverPathfinder
Welcome to the Fat Parade by firedog98 and PeachPeachPlumb
Stories With Siren by SirensLair
Fed Up by Polarisdreamer and piengoo

This category is wonderfully eclectic. A game for Seeker9043 and an audio-thingy for Sirenslair make for a very interesting category. But the collabs are probably the big hitters, with the same names popping up, here as elsewhere. First nom for Polaris too, but one to watch for the future.

Best Animated Story-telling
Weight gain story-telling in a visual format, for those that believe that a picture tells a thousand calories.
Losing Control by Better-With-Salt
Nina and Lin by piengoo
a digital quickie by berserker1133
Moving Back Home by magmaman
Mandy by SIZE-SURPRISE

A few surprises here, but no surprise who the front-runner is. Better-with-salt has been the favourite here since the beginning. Magmaman has also had a good year and SIZE-SURPRISE has a strong following too. But I’ll eat my hat if it’s anything other than the Losing Control series. And, even though we like eating here, rarely do we endorse the eating of hats.

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Now: another quick word from our sponsors.
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Best Picture
No, not like the one at the Oscars. This is literally the best picture. One-off visual depiction of lovely squishy plumpness.
Nicole and Ashton by CSMKynes and TheCyrilFiggis
Bathing in Bliss - Sarya and Lucy by SilverPathfinder
Revenge 100 by Annonnxyz
Matilda Nolasco by firewarrior121
The Big Bellied Dancer by fatty-writes and WartimeSweets

SilverPathfinder will perhaps be low-key disappointed at just the one nomination here, and Annonnxyz will be a touch relieved to get a nomination here after harshly missing out in the previous category. Their Revenge series is great, but Revenge 100 is possibly the front-runner here. Also, watch out for Nicole and Ashton, there’s a real buzz about the Nicole series this year.

Best Ensemble
Some stories have a great character or two. This rewards stories with a whole host of great characters
Weighty Matters by skinnybitch500
The Big Bend by MrWrong1 and Monk001
Nicole by TheCyrilFiggis
Gradual Gains by fatty-writes
Megababe by Katie-KTL-Lunalia

And this is where things start to get serious, and some of the favourites for the top gong raise their heads. Weighty Matters, The Big Bend and Nicole will be glad to get some momentum for the later categories. But watch out for dark horses Megababe and Gradual Gains, two stories with a wonderful group of characters. This one really is a five-horse race.

Best Adapted Story
The best story inspired by real life or pre-existing works
What Both Of Us Wanted by Charisawriter
The Sorceress Stress Snacking by Westmetal
Keeping Katie Safe by SpartacusDA
Jill’s Swelling Stay at House Beneviento by Borin23
Step Into My Candy Store by VenusDeRubens

Westmetal is probably the king of the adapted story, but this is for one-off works and not cumulative efforts over a career. Charisawriter and VenusDeRubens will both consider this their best chance of an award, so expect fireworks. Not as in drama, but actual fireworks. And not by me, I’m skint, but by somebody, possibly at New Year. Yeah, at New Year, expect there to be fireworks, that’s what I’m saying.

Best Original Story
Best story not based on real-life or pre-existing IP. Not necessarily original in terms of ideas though. Because the plots are all the same: Person = fat = yum = more fat. Lazy hacks.
Army Wives by STC9892
Weighty Matters by Skinnybitch500
The Big Bend by MrWrong1 and Monk001
Meatier by ShrubberyLogistic
Megababe by Katie-KTL-Lunalia

And here we go, our closest look yet at who will be in the running for the top prize. First nomination for Army Wives, but they are probably the one to beat in this competition. A shock absence for Nicole, which is another one of the favourites for the big trophy, sees FDU mainstay Megababe arrive on the scene. Arriving on the scene ** and hungover, somehow, but arriving on the scene nonetheless. And Meatier, which narrowly lost out in the pre-cursor award ceremony run by SilverPathfinder here, gets a shock nomination.
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Now, because this is an American award show, we need to cram in way too many adverts, so here is another word from our sponsor: Sadness.
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Best Supporting Male
Not the best ‘supportive’ male, because there is no such thing. No, this award celebrates the men who don’t have to be the centre of attention, who don’t think the world revolves around them and don’t think we should check out the Joe Rogan Podcast “cuz it’s quite good actually”.
Will Goodwinn from 5 Little Piggies by TheCyrilFiggis
Darkwolf from The Flabtastic Pigwoman by Firedog98
George from Gradual Gains by fatty-writes
Scott from Fed Up by polarisdreamer and piengoo
Keith from Fed Up by polarisdreamer and piengoo

A lean category - literally as well as figuratively - with an unsurprising dearth of interesting male characters. It’s somewhat endearing to see that in this corner of the internet, it’s the men who get 2D characters and tropish roles, and the women who get agency and complexity and depth. And breadth. And width.
The first double-nom of the night for Fed Up, and the nice sight of Cyril celebrated for something beyond Nicole. But it is probably a George vs. Darkwolf toss-up, because nice guys don’t always finish last.

Best Supporting Female
This category celebrates those women who know their place… at award ceremonies!
Ashton Michaels from Nicole by TheCyrilFiggis
Stabigail from Tests by Skinnybitch500
Cowgirl from Pigwoman vs Cowgirl by Firedog98
Summer from Fed Up by Polarisdreamer and piengoo
Helena from BIG by Katie-KTL-Lunalia

Here is possibly the biggest upset of the night, as Zephyra from Lady Luck loses out to something called [checks notes, squints at it a little, checks with producer, shrugs] BIG. Despite BIG being seen as less mainstream than most nominees, the character clearly could not be contained. It’s worth noting that Fed Up have done well in the supporting categories here, but it does look like a clash between the old and the new. Ashton Michaels has been the favourite all year, but can jonny-cum-lately Stabigail overtake her at the final furlong? Both are fighters, so it should be exciting. And lesbians. But I don’t know why I mentioned that last part.

Best Lead Male
This category doffs its cap in the direction of the gentlemen who have at least as much screen time as Anthony Hopkins in Silence of the Lambs.
Nathan Nixon/Feederman from Capes and Cuisines by TheCyrilFiggis
Shiva Shapiro from The Big Bend by MrWrong1 and Monk001
Max McWendy from To Become a Feeder by fatty-writes
Sam from Whatever the Cost by jentera
Captain Benedict Muir, RN from Lady Luck by Marlow0

This category seems to be bringing familiar writers with unfamiliar works to the fore, with fatty-writes and TheCyrilFiggis having a third story nominated. That shows real talent. Imagine being able to write more than one story within the space of a year instead of dragging your story about a truck driver out to nearly two years despite no discernible plot. Umm… yeah, sorry about that, don’t know where that rant came from.

Best Lead Female
We all like a female that takes the lead (ed. There’s a time and place man, and this ain’t it!), and this category celebrates the main characters who also happen to have boobies.
AE from Weighty Matters by Skinnybitch500
Sinead from Army Wives by STC9892
Nicole Valdez from Nicole by TheCyrilFiggis
Unnamed Protagonist from F*ck America by Dania201
Megababe from Megababe by Katie-KTL-Lunalia

This category was, hands down, the most competitive of the lot. Sunny from Sunny’s New Normal, Fallon Leslie from Breakdown, Adelaide from Lady Luck all would have got nominated in any other year. And I have genuinely no idea which of these will prevail. As far as I’m concerned, they all deserve it. And my opinion can be trusted, for I am a fish and fish never lie.

Best Writing
This celebrates the best writing. I feel like you coulda worked that one out without this explainer here, but it’s too late now, I’ve committed.
Army Wives by STC9892
The Big Bend by MrWrong1 and Monk001
Quality without Compromise by Sonic-Purity
Amusement and Adipose by n.o.p.e.2525
Lady Luck by Marlow0

Some expected and some unexpected names here. Despite not having a nomination so far, both n.o.p.e.2525 and Sonic-Purity storm into this category with two wonderfully idiosyncratic stories. Here, they rub shoulders with yet another nomination for the other three candidates, a real mix of Davids and Goliaths.

Best Story
And here it is, the big one. That’s how every weight gain story opens, but it also applies as a description for the shenanigans neath us. These are the ten (10) greatest WG and WG-adjacent stories told over the past 12 months. 12 months that have seen a plague, have seen prices spiral beyond most’s means, have seen the sovereign democratic nation of Ukraine invaded by a bloodthirsty psychopath. During these 12 horrific, gruelling, near-excruciating months these stories have not kept us going, because they’re just kink writing after all. But I reckon they’re pretty decent, all things considered.

Army Wives by STC9892
The Big Bend by MrWrong1 and Monk001
Lady Luck by Marlow0
Nicole by TheCyrilFiggis
Meatier by ShrubberyLogistic
What We Do For Likes by Faertraveler
Sunny’s New Normal by JakeMcDuck and sunshinefeedee
Fed Up by polarisdreamer and piengoo
Megababe by Katie-KTL-Lunalia
Weighty Matters by skinnybitch500

A huge thank you to everyone nominated! You wouldn’t believe the number of wonderful stories and artworks that missed out on categories despite being wonderful. If your work missed out, just presume yours was one of those unlucky ones I was referencing, and not one of the terrible ones that nobody liked XD.
Every person who has a nomination is allowed (downright encouraged) to brand their works with Fishery Award Nominee, Fishery Award 2022 Nominee, X Time Fishery Award nominee or Fishery-Award Nominated. Over the next month, you will have to try and rope your followers into voting below and raising the profile of your work, so as to become an award winner. If you succeed, you will be the proud owner of some Self-Esteem. It’s a bit like Sadness, but even better. I’m sorry I can’t actually deliver actual prizes, but I’m skint and disorganised and this whole thing was arranged on a whim. But you deserve all the prizes in the world, you’ve all been chest-swellingly(BE) excellent.
Now, who wins? Well, down below is a link to a Google Forms doc where you can fill in the survey, and literally vote for who wins! How cool is that? All you have to do is be a member of the Fishery Academy! I’m just kidding, there’s no such thing. Anyone can vote, just click the link and choose your favourites. However, please read/engage with every nomination first before voting. It’s only fair on the people here, especially those without a huge number of watchers, if you give each story a fair crack of the whip. You never know, a story you’ve never heard of, from a writer whose name you can’t pronounce, might just turn out to be the best thing for any given category.
 
LIST OF NOMINEES https://www.deviantart.com/swahilimonkfish/favourites/90617191/the-fishery-awards-nominees-2022

VOTE https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1xew8kTZ_xJRLFcgEt3xOlOJ-xbKifObuv0088X_45lg/edit?usp=drivesdk
 
And now you have voted, please hear a final word from our sponsor for the day: Sadness.
Have you ever watched the news? Are you sentient? Do you have feelings? Then you are probably drowning in Sadness. Well, good news, fellow Sad fans because Sadness 2.0 is out, with brand new features such as:
Existential dread.
Sense of guilt for something that happened a long time ago but appears in your head for some reason when you’re trying to go to sleep.
Insecurity.
Sense of guilt for feeling all of the above things.
Oh god I’m worthless.
Everything is worthless.
So check out Sadness 2.0 today! Trust us, you will regret it. And feel guilty about it. That’s one of the features.

 

I vaguely recall Samster's stories being predominantly set in office environments. The list to his stories on the old Dimensions forum is here: https://www.dimensionsmagazine.com/members/samster.9087/
Also Office Love by the brilliant Flaming Hades on here posted one here that you might wanna check out
 

I think this is the first time I've ever actually felt sorry for Jason. He's always been a bit arrogant and bitter, so it was nice to see some untainted vulnerability, and for someone other than himself. I mean, I still think he's a self-important, self-pitying tosspot, but you've slowly rounded out some of his rough edges and you done so with real skill.
And Zoltan is the best character you've ever written, hands down!

More pics from a fun day out with my feeder! ❤️

This is the first chapter of an interactive story I'm doing on my DA page. There, people have been choosing which path they want to take at various crossroads, informing what type of story it is. I'm afraid you guys can't interact with it here because I can't edit stories a week later on Curvage to reveal the results. So I have to post it here after the results have been finalised. But chapter 2 has just been put up on there now, so you can interact with that installment
 
Chapter 1
 
10th May 2017
 
 
“I hate Yesterday me” Beth sighed, waking up and hearing the unmistakable breathing of a last night hook-up next to her. Deep, laboured breathing occasionally catching and landing in a snore. “Seriously, fuck Yesterday me”
She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought. It wasn’t her room. She’d not brought a boy back. A boy had brought her back. And just look. Walls dotted with vintage WWII posters. I mean, just what? What kind of monster has Britain Needs You on their wall? Had she accidentally hooked-up with Nigel Farage? That would have been awkward.
She turned around, gently so as not to disturb, and looked back to make sure it wasn’t some grey-haired, middle-aged xenophobe deep-sleeping next to her. Thankfully, the dark skin and shaved head implied otherwise. He actually looked handsome, or as handsome as somebody can look when their face is quick-sanding into their pillow and they sleep with their mouth open. She’d done surprisingly well.
She slowly pulled herself up, pausing and wincing every time the sheets rustled. Eventually she found herself up, and began the hunt for her clothes. Standing naked, she felt self-conscious. Nudity in front of a stranger never felt good, even if the stranger is sleeping and even if the body was Instagrammably curvy. It hadn’t always been that way. Beth Tupuola had been bone thin when she had first left school and joined Rolls-Royce on one of their engineering apprenticeships, in a way that felt zeitgeisty at the time but was more just a consequence of her love of dancing. Now, as she put on her underwear that had been lying on the floor, she could not have looked more different. She had what the magazines would call ‘curves’, and what they would describe as ‘generous’. It was all euphemistic, condescending bollocks, but they would have been right in saying that Beth looked good. The wavy black hair from her dad’s Samoan ancestry, her mum’s wide eyes and a body that was all her own. Hips that swung out like they were designed for jeans, served with a complementary arse worthy of the peach emoji. She felt this sway against her flattering dark purple dress. Her stomach may not have clung to her abdominal muscles like they used to in her dancing days, but its softness belied its flatness. And this left her in a place where every mirror that she looked at told her compliments about her 139lb 5ft2 frame. No wonder Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast was so dishy. It was all that she deserved.
It wasn’t all that Ollie deserved though.
Beth picked up her phone and tip-toed downstairs where she could call her best friend without waking Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast up. Fortunately, she was in a two-story property. One of them old terraced properties you associate with, come to think of it, World War II. Oh god, had she really slept with somebody so creepily obsessed with that era that it affected the house he lived in?
“Come on… please pick up Klara” Beth whispered to herself, bouncing on the spot with pent-up anxiety. Eventually she heard the ringing stop and the phone answer.
“Oh my god Beth, last night was mental. Where did you even go?” Klara answered down the phone.
“I have no idea Klar. Why did you let me drink last night? You know I can’t take my drink. And now I’ve...” and Beth lowered her tone to a whisper. “...woken up next to some rando”.
“Male or female? Wait, it wasn’t the hot, black guy was it? No hair?” Klara asked, clearly remembering the night better than Beth could.
“Yeah, that’s the one!”
“Oh my god girl. You picked yourself up a hottie! Wait, aren’t you still dating that dippy hippy chap? Roland or something ridiculous?” Klara asked.
“Yeah, Ronald. I’m… technically still with Ronald. But, like, is that bad that I cheated on him? Cos I weirdly don’t feel guilty so maybe it’s the universe telling me to pull myself together and ditch Ronald. I think so. And it would be rude not to do what the universe says. Like, the universe knows what’s up” Beth whispered into her phone.
“Oh, but I liked Roland...”
“Ronald” Beth corrected.
“Whatever, I liked him. He was cute. And he had no brains, which was nice. Plus, he dotes on you like a puppy” Klara argued.
“Yeah, he’s cute and adorable. But he was even cuter and more adorable 40lbs ago. Now he’s as soft in the body as he is in the head. He just doesn’t do anything. Last time I mentioned maybe we should go to the gym, he thought I was suggesting we have a threesome with someone called Jim” Beth said back, trying not to raise her voice and disturb the man upstairs.
“Fine, dump him. I’ll have him. You know I like a lover with an appetite” Klara said, winding her friend up.
“Fuck you Klara. How does your German arse stay so fucking scrawny when all you do is feed men until their stomach becomes a dick shield anyway? And, who even is this guy I hooked up with?” Beth raged as quietly as she could.
“I don’t know, but when I was watching you to dance...”
“You make that sound weirdly creepy”
“He seemed seriously into you. And he was magazine hot. But you might want to get out of there if you want to get to work in time. You know Rupa has got to make cuts in the department and your attendance is patchy these days” Klara reminded. Ever since the Brexit vote the year before, Rolls-Royce had been looking to reduce their workforce.
“Ahh fuck! I was hoping to get to dance practice before work. But Rupa loves me, she won’t mind if I’m late...”
“Again?”
“Rupa really loves me. I’m her absolute favourite. You know, we hang out sometimes after work you know. She really likes me. Her brother owns this nice Bengali restaurant, you know the one on Leadmore Street, opposite where that new nightclub – Marmaris – is? Yeah, we just go there and hang out and chat shit about you apprentices. She is so fun and naughty, and it’s so inspiring for a woman still in her 30s to run the whole department. She’d never fire me” Beth argued.
“She might not have a choice, babe”
“Maybe. Oh, I don’t know. I really need to go to dance though. If I don’t, they’ll probably kick me off the team. God, all these dilemmas, off the back of accidentally shagging a hottie. I’m so unlucky at times” Beth joked with feigned self-pity.
“You make your own luck. You tell your own story. You shape its every detail. And nobody can decide anything on your behalf. Beth, is it?” a voice came from behind
“Sorry, I gotta go, the hottie is awake and talking to me” Beth whispered down the phone before hanging up. She turned around and smiled as if she hadn’t been talking about him behind his back.
“So, you think I’m a ‘hottie’ do you?” Mr Snoring-WWII-Enthusiast smiled at her charmingly.
“You heard that?”
“I heard all of it. The walls in these old properties are really thin. I bet Madge next door heard that, even without her hearing aid. My name, because by the sounds of it you do not remember, is Deon. I’m a graphic designer specialising in WWII memorabilia. And I did not know you had a boyfriend, or I would not have made a move on you. Now… do you want a ham and cheese toastie for breakfast?” Deon asked with effortless chill.
“Well, least that explains the creepy WWII posters. I mean, I’d love to but… I’m vegetarian so that’s probably the universe saying that I should go...” Beth gulped.
“Did you not hear what I said about you telling your own story? And besides, one cheese and ham toastie for breakfast isn’t going to send you off the rails, is it? Come on… stay. You have anywhere else you need to be?” he smiled.
 
1) Beth agrees to stay and eat a cheese and ham toastie with Deon.
2) Beth leaves for dance class instead.
3) Beth heads straight to work to get there on time
 
 
 
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
 
 
 
10th May 2019
 
 
“Future me is going to hate me for this” Beth smiled as she downed her shot. The talking to herself might have looked weird, but the loud, pulsing beats pumping its soundwaves through the sticky-floored dancefloor of Marmaris drowned out her words and most all else. “Seriously, fuck Future me!”
She looked around the room and realised it was worse than she thought when it started listing like a rolling ship to one side. It wasn’t even 11pm and already her feet felt uneasy on the ground, despite the stickiness beneath theoretically ameliorating that. She saw the side-door where she could hang out with the vapers and the smokers, and breathe some fresh air to make things feel a little easier for her.
It was harder than she hoped for, just getting there. She was uneasy on her heels at the best of times, and these were far sloshier times than the best of times. That, and the usual crowds filling the place with their waving arms and jabby elbows, all conspiring to stand between Beth and where she needed to go. Finally, she bundled past the last of them and reached the outdoor area where things just felt a bit better. The freshness of the mid-May air and the door closing behind her to dampen the sound of bass-vibrating dance music.
“Ugh” Beth sighed, grateful for a wall to lean against as she pulled out her phone. Tonight had been a mistake, and she knew she was going to regret it in the morning. She was already teetering on regret as it was.
First, her dress was not as flattering on her as she had envisaged it. It wrapped around her like it was trying to mummify her, giving barely her pores space to breathe. It should have been fine. It fit her when she wore it out a couple of weeks back, albeit not loosely, but it seemed as though any air between her and the dress had been suctioned out. It pulled up shorter than she’d have liked on her legs, revealing the duffled texture of her lower thighs as they brushed together against one another. And, being as pear-shaped as her evening was going, the dress heaved out to accommodate her prestigious hips and arse, wide and deep. Above that sat her stomach, leaning against the lining of her dress like she was leaning on the dirty wall. Her breasts were pushed up to the point where it was affecting her posture and her arms felt jumpered. How had she gotten to this size? What had she done to the universe to deserve this? It felt like only two years ago that she looked beautiful and curvy. It had been a tough old two years, that was for sure.
And, to make matters worse, more creepy messages from her ex, who had refused to move on and let Beth go. On one hand, it was flattering that she could still have that effect on people, but the sheer clinginess of someone she was no longer seeing made her feel deeply uneasy and conspicuous as she stood outside. Messages, inappropriately flirtatious messages sent from an ex to a girl in a loving relationship; it all sounded like the sort of thing that the police investigation of a murdered young woman reveals. God, everything was the worst.
And then it started raining. Now everything truly was the worst.
So Beth trudged home, head slung low to protect her eyes from getting sore from the rainwater, but also as a consequence of her Eyeorian mood. Carrying her shoes in her hands, her bare feet on the cold, wet pavement, her dress soddening itself to her bulbous form. There was nothing for it, she ran across the road to Flavours Of India, the Bengali restaurant and takeaway. Standing in front of the door where there was shelter, she shivered as she scrolled through her phone’s contacts, looking for the local taxi firm.
“Beth? Beth Tupuola?” was heard by her, and she jumped and turned in fear.
“Who the fuc… oh, Bipin. You scared the piss out of me there” Beth said, her entire body shaking with cold and fear, to Rupa’s brother.
“Oh, I am sorry girl. But I saw you coming from across the street. Come, sit down, let us get something for you to eat” Bipin said kindly, inviting her inside where it was lovely and warm.
“Cheers Bipin. Been a bit distracted of late”
“Oh relax Beth. God, you look soaked. Let my cousin get you a towel from the closet” he said kindly, before turning and barking aggressively in Bangla to what was presumably his cousin. From the back of the restaurant came a man with a towel, which Beth wrapped around herself. “And I know exactly what to get you. Chicken biriyani? Poppadoms? Garlic naans? Am I right?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. That’s my usual. And, thanks Bipin” Beth said, smiling kindly.
Beth waited while the wind and rain lashed on the sides of the quiet restaurant, with very few people entering and leaving. It was a Thursday, so it was perhaps predictable that it was quiet. Slowly warming up and lessening her shiver, a cold hand went into her handbag again and pulled out her phone. She flicked through and chose to ring her partner instead of a taxi. And here was the real reason that she had been in a bad mood. She was suffering from severe relationship troubles. It felt like all they did was argue these days. Sometimes the word ‘weight’ would be mentioned, but always would the arguments be full throttle and vitriolic. But Beth couldn’t hide forever. She clicked on the contact and sent a message, requesting to be picked up.
“Here you go Beth. Chicken biriyani, poppadoms and garlic naans. I have no idea why you would eat naan bread with a biriyani but you do you” Bipin smiled as he served the steaming dish and sides.
“Because it tastes nice. You do the best garlic naans, Bipin” she smiled as she tucked into it, her fork a shovel as she loaded it off the plate and then unloaded it into her mouth. The biriyani was surprisingly moist, the poppadoms were crisp, the naans tasted of oil and garlic. It wasn’t highbrow cuisine, but it served as comfort food to a girl who could do with some comfort. And she ate it with vigour of a starved animal.
However, halfway through the meal, she heard the bell over the door ring to indicate somebody had walked through it.
“Hey Beth, you text me for a taxi ride back?”
“Hey, my lover, let me just finish this and I’ll be right with you” she replied, turning with a greasy smile to see her partner…
 
A) Rupa
Deon
C) Ollie
D) Klara

Chapter 31
 
The Betty Project – Part 2
 
 
Look, in three weeks’ time. Everything goes tits up. In three weeks’ time, it all goes wrong, and Betty finds herself drinking in Kebabland and asking her old friend Ahmed for advice. She does this after realising that every single one of us betrayed her. But that was in three weeks. Let’s not worry about that now. Let’s just enjoy the here and now.
 
 
*-*-*-*-*-*-**-
 
 
I know it gets said a lot, but Betty was always a thin girl. Painfully thin. Arrogantly thin, as I’d seen it then through my own, biased lens. I’d always mistook her virtue and innocence for piety. The girl who blushed when her mouth stumbled across a profanity and giggled at the thought of a girl’s night out. It gets said a lot, but it is always worth remembering this. That the girl before us, stumbling buzzed back to Chez Musketeer on a Monday, early afternoon, buzzed, bloated and barely fitting in her clothes, was once Little Miss Perfect. Only the Miss part of that was true now.
Her quest to gain weight 6 months ago had clearly been fruitful, which might explain why she was so apple-shaped. So much of my weight gain was dragged down by gravity to my lower half, but Betty’s stomach was a much more effective trap for it, retaining it resiliently. I noticed all of this as we stumbled back to our place.
“Day-time drinking is never a good idea” I lamented, squeezing through the front door with a shuffle.
“Correct. It is not a good idea. It is a great idea!” Betty giggled, far more buzzed than I was. The girl drank like the she smoked. And she smoked like she ate. The only difficulty she had getting through the door was brought upon by her own crapulence.
She plopped herself down on one of the sofas, still giggling cheerily. The distinctive sound of her skirt ripping at the side could be heard as she folded herself over. It hadn’t been a surprise, given the damage her body had taken over the past week. Even just today, she’d been given the full force of our feeding. Ebba feeding her until the early hours of this morning, then Wiktoria breakfasting her with all of her quite considerable might. And then Betz and I continued our new weekly constitutional of ordering three Betty meals each for lunch. Like last time, I ate as much as two and a half and wholly regretted the over-indulgence. Like last time, Betty ate three and a half, and didn’t allow her thoughts to travel as far as frivolous things like regret.
Sitting down, the changes over just the past week were clear. Her stomach stuck out sorely, bristling with contempt for tummy norms. It bulged sidewards as well, a swollen sack of stomach filled seemingly with more than it could feasibly contain. Though, this theory was about to be tested, as Wiktoria walked into the room.
“Hello my wonderful girlfriend” she smiled at me, bending down as best she could to give me a kiss, before walking to the remaining free sofa. “And hello Betty Bollingbrooke. The New Musketeer!”
“Hey Wicky” Betty smiled courteously. “Like your top”.
“Oh, thank you. It is made for me, specially. I buy it online” Wiktoria replied with a smile, looking down at it. It was De Stijl inspired, with whites and yellows and reds and thick black lines in sharp geometric forms. I loved how much effort Wiktoria still put into her appearance, despite having so much appearance to tend to these days. She seemed colossal, in every direction. But always beautiful. Betty, on the other hand, seemed to lose lustre with every gained pound. Her hair was a cobweb of split ends, so much longer than it used to be too. Her clothing wrestled with her body, struggling to contain it, like trying to wrangle an eel. At this moment, Betty took the time to light up another cigarette, as if trying to highlight the contrast in self-care all the more.
“I like the colours” Betty confirmed, before the room drifted into slightly uneasy silence. Fortunately, Wiktoria interrupted it before it could spiral any longer, like an out of control telephone pause.
“I am sure Shay will be here very soon. She has brought us many cakes. Lots for Rutherford, but some for us too” she explained, and I tried to hide my wince at the prospect of another cake.
“I love the sound of a cake, Wicky, I really do. But I am so full. You wouldn’t believe how much I ate, isn’t that right Leona?” she directed the question to me. I floundered, not really knowing how to answer. So Wicky stepped in again. I loved that woman.
“Sorry, I don’t realise you eaten already dessert. Well, that is more for us, which is good” Wiktoria smiled.
“Oh, no… I… it wasn’t a dessert. It was just… well, Betty meals. Plural. And you know how they are. I mean, I haven’t… I guess… had a pudding, it’s just...” Betty stammered, the cunning of Wicky’s comment throwing her out for a second.
“Well, you should have something sweet then. It is normal to do this” Wiktoria said, almost spelling out Stage 2 of our plan. Normal. It is normal to do this. After all, who doesn’t follow 25000 calories with something sweet to finish it off?
“I guess...” Betty shrugged, letting her hand drift down her stomach. In tenderness? In arousal? In doubt? Knowing Betty as I do, it was probably some combination of all three.
And it wasn’t long before Shay arrived, with the ‘weekly’ shopping that she tended to do once or twice a day. Re-usable bags (just because we’re fat, doesn’t mean we don’t care about the amount of plastic in our oceans) laden with Lord knows what. Nothing healthy, I daresay. Most of it was shuttled up to Rutherford’s room to enable her continuation in Jabba-ing up. But a rather substantial number of trips to the kitchen with multiple bags in each of her arms were made in our honour. And in our laps, she placed a chocolate sachentorte. Rich, dense, gloopy chocolate sachentorte. One each. And a spoon. No questions asked. To be fair, though they were dumped on his like hand-me-downs, Shay had gone to the effort of removing the health (%) breakdown pie chart on the one she handed to Betty. I had no such look, and could see the harrowing circle of red, with accompanying data. Each slice was 441 calories somehow. And somehow, they’d decided that this measly cake could stretch to 14 slices. It is times like this that I’m glad I’m a Doctor of linguistics and not a Doctor of mathematics. Otherwise I’d be able to multiply those two numbers in my head and work out how much damage this post-dinner aperitif would be. Least Betty was eating one as well. I guess that was the important thing.
“I love sachentorte” Wiktoria beamed, already digging her spoon into its boggy peat of chocolate. “My grandfather was from Germany. When I was a girl, I would go to my grandparents and eat lots of cake as a big, special treat. Now I have lots of big, special treats. It is very nice”.
And it was very nice. Especially if you like chocolate. Or diabetes. It felt luxurious and indulgent, and frustratingly moreish. That’s one of the things that I’d come to notice over the past year or so. My victimhood towards moreishness. That will-power is a muscle and that it required exercise. And mine had atrophied beyond recognition. I’d simply gotten out of the habit of not giving in, like I couldn’t find the off switch and had lost interest in looking. That was one of the main differences between me and Betty. Betty used will-power to gain weight. She worked at it. And she worked hard. I gained weight by not working at it. By not working hard. Hers was still a self-conscious decision; a deliberate deviation from her norm. On the other hand, this was my norm. And any attempt at will-power was like trying to put a plaster over the hull breach of the Titanic. Which was why I was looking particularly titanic myself.
“God, that was good” Betty said, suddenly interrupting my thoughts.
“What was good? Wait, you’ve finished it already?” I asked, before cursing myself for letting my mask slip. So much for normalising this behaviour.
“Yeah, Wicky was right about it being delicious” Betty giggled girlishly.
“Well, in that case… could you finish mine?” I asked, tentatively, offering her my half eaten cake. This was it. Stage 3. Earlier than planned. Much earlier. But this was it. Batten down the hatches, ladies and gentlemen. We were entering the next stage of The Betty Project before the last one had really begun.
“Why?” Betty asked suspiciously, and I girded my loins and made my play.
“Because I’ve got to arrange for a GP check-up. Wicky’s been nagging me about sorting it out for weeks now. And… look, I’m not going on a diet per se, but I’m not immune to self-consciousness. I’d like to minimise the amount I’m gaining so that when I have my check-up, I don’t get such a pummelling” I half-lie, half-confess. The truth of the matter is that Wiktoria had been pushing for me to arrange a GP’s appointment for a while now. Since we got back from France over the Summer, actually. And, foolishly, I kept putting it off. I knew what they were going to say, and how horrified they were going to be, and I kept putting it off and putting it off. Afraid of their criticism. And all I’ve done in the meantime is gain even more, and now they’re going to criticise me even more, which makes me want to put it off even more. I’m a proud woman and I don’t need that negativity in my life.
Except, I probably do. But that’s besides the point.
So, instead, we have Stage 3.
“Oh, I didn’t realise” Betty sounded sympathetic as she said it. It was a knack she had.
“Yeah, and with Shay on the rampage, I need a hand going forwards. When she tries to over-feed me and push me towards even more balloon-like sizes, could you help out?” The insecurity in my voice wasn’t intentional. It just rose up out of me anyway.
“I mean, sure. Anything for you Leona. How?”
“If Shay tries to dump food on me… could you eat it for me?”
And that was Stage 3. It was the weakest part of the plan. We’d set it up earlier, establishing Shay as the antagonist, showing how she was. And now this. The bombshell.
“On top of everything else I’ve been eating?” Betty asked nervously.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Wicky told me not to. That we shouldn’t impose. It’ll be fine. Pretend I never said anything. I’ve got thick skin. Heck, I’ve got rolls and rolls of thick skin. It’ll be fine” I reassured her, and slowly began eating my sachertorte again.
“No, I’ll help Leona. Pass it over, I’ll finish it off” Betty relented, quite quickly. A little too quickly. Perhaps. Or maybe not.
“No, it’s fine Betz. I’ll finish this up. You’re already bailing us out on rent, I honestly shouldn’t have asked” I protested, and began eating quicker.
“No, really” she argued, a bit more keenly.
“Really Betz. I’ll eat it, it’s fine” I countered, raising my voice a little. I saw in the corner of my eye, Wiktoria raise an eyebrow. I pretended not to notice. I pretended I knew what I was doing. I did know what I was doing. I think.
“Okay...” Betty finally relented, and Wiktoria cocked her head at me in confusion.
“But, I tell you what you can do” I finally added, spooning in the last few mouthfuls. “Go up and see Rutherford. You know, she really does enjoy your company up there”
“Oh, I dunno. I could maybe have finished off the cake, but I don’t know if I could cope with a Rutherford session after all I’ve eaten”
“Oh purleeaaase. You love it, stop playing hard to get. Go up there and enjoy yourself. And when you do come down, I want you smiling as widely as she smiles” I ordered, and Betty smiled to me and to herself as she climbed up the stairs. And watching her go, I noticed that even Betty’s arse had grown. I’d never really noticed that about her before, but Betty was even getting a fat arse.
I turned back around and saw my girlfriend staring at me.
“What?”
“You know what” she said to me, with an accusatory index finger being jabbed towards me.
“I changed my mind. You were right. It was too soon for Stage 3. She needs another week to acclimatise. And, at least this way, we’ve planted the seed, so when we do it, she’ll be more readily amenable” I explained.
“Hmmm” she replied, suspiciously.
“By the time we roll our Stage 3, she’ll be practically begging to help me out. She needs to believe it was her suggestion to help me out for her to truly buy into it. Trust me, I know what I’m doing” I explained, trying to placate her.
“If you say so” she squinted her eyes at me, not convinced. “And you’ll still book the doctor appointment?”
“Yeah, I’ll still book it” I said, in thought.
And Wiktoria was right to be suspicious. Of course, there was an element of truth to what I was saying. If we wanted to up Betty’s eating, by getting her to eat my food too, it made sense that we establish the norm first, so we can then add to it. But there was another truth, one that I was a little in denial over. One lurking beneath the surface.
I didn’t want her to eat my sachentorte, because I wanted to eat it. No will-power, see?
Fuck, no will-power. I’m in real trouble, aren’t I?
 
 
 
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
 
 
Thursday saw Minnie take Betty clothes shopping. It was not a day too soon.
It was, however, not the smartest play. You know how Minnie is, we all know how Minnie is. But she’s not one for following the rules. Unless, that is, one of the rules is Break The Rules. In which case, she’d follow that one to the letter. She was only interested in fun.
So, or the first time in only a few months but the first time in many dress sizes, Betty went clothes shopping. She went with Minnie because Minnie was the only girl comfortable being on her feet for an extended period of time. That much walking and standing just wasn’t very good on the feet and back of girls like me and Wiktoria these days. Why walk and stand when you can eat and eat? So Minnie and Betty ventured into clothing stores for the first time since the incident in the changing rooms.
“Last time I came here with you, if I recall, you were fretting over possibly going up to – heaven forbid – a size 16. I mean, can you imagine, Betty Bollingbrooke as a size 16?” Minnie teased, as Betty flicked through the clothing racks of the plus-size store.
“Yeah, times change. And so do waistlines, it seems” she said, pulling out a size 24 and putting it against her body to judge whether it would suit her. The look on Minnie’s face suggested yes.
“Excuse me ma’am, do you need a hand. We here at LoveU want to ensure you have the best fitting clothes, so how about we get you sized up?” some cheery soul announced itself to Betty.
“Honestly, I think I’m okay. Don’t really see the point in buying clothes to fit exactly what I look like now. What if I change? Then it’ll all be for nothing” Betty mused, sensing the potential for fun.
“Ohhh, I totally get it. You thinking about going on a diet? Believe me sister, I get it” the kind saleswoman said with a genial roll of the eyes.
“I mean, everyone’s on a diet. A diet is just what you eat over a day” Betty semanticised back at her.
“Haha, yeah sure” the saleswoman’s eyeroll was a little less endearing this time. “So, lemme guess ma’am, you’re looking at clothing sizes that don’t quite fit, you’re talking about going on a diet and – no offence – but you’re acting kinda bitchy and tired. I’m guessing you’re a new mum” the saleswoman cheerfully own-goaled.
“Yes! How did you guess?” Betty lied with a voracious grin on her face. “Triplets actually”.
“Oh my god! That sounds like such trauma” the saleswoman replied, buying the lie wholeheartedly.
“I know. And it’s ruined my figure. I used to be really fit, used to run marathons can you believe. But people say eating for two is bad, you should try eating for four” Betty hammed it up and Minnie just watched with pride.
“I can’t even believe what that must be like, babe” the saleswoman said sincerely. And Minnie decided she wanted to join into this game, herself.
“I know right! Mum’s a trooper” Minnie said, holding onto Betty’s arm kindly.
“M...mum? Wait, how old are you?” the salesperson seemed slightly put out by that comment, though not as put out as Betty would have liked her to have been.
“She’s 45. Isn’t that right mum?” Minnie said, leaning affectionately on Betty’s shoulder, who could only smile.
“Yeah, well… 46 next week” Betty ad-libbed, catching on quickly.
“46? You look good Ma’am. Honestly, I’d have have said 38 or 39, maybe 40 absolute maximum. You look good for your age, seriously” the saleswoman complimented, and the 27 year old teacher blushed.
“Well… thanks. I put a lot of effort into my appearance” Betty replied, not technically lying. “Anyway, since you’re hear… I’m actually thinking about maybe having more kids, while my body still lets me. Tick-tock and all that. So, do you have maternity wear or the really large size? I might need them to grow into” Betty smiled and the kind saleswoman showed her the way.
 
 
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
 
 
“I can’t believe you pretended to be in your forties, Betz! That’s mad” I chuckled.
“To think, this time 9 months ago, I used to get mistaken for a teenager” Betty giggled too, at the thought of it. “It’s been one hell of a 9 months”.
I looked at her and tried to work out how that could have possibly happened. Betty Bollingbrooke. Face like a Grange Hill character. Being able to convince somebody that they were in their forties? I mean, the greying of her hair did her no favours, I guess. At first, it had been the odd stray one. Even before the gaining, I remember her naming her first one Edith and finding it very amusing. But now, they seemed to have spread like a wildfire, leaving a path of colourless destruction in its week. She was still predominantly dark-haired, but she was fast drawing towards 50:50 these days.
And yes, her eyes had lost that youthful spark. Crows feet that stood out when her eyes crinkled to accompany a smile. Weary bags from a girl who didn’t care much for sleep patterns or healthy life choices. And I guess smoking doesn’t help. She could barely go ten minutes now without the feeling of something between her fingers. She claimed she was on 40 a day, but I think 60 was closer. And obviously the weight gain influenced this dramatic aging. Her figure had been borderline girlish before, now it had flown well past womanly, sailed over matronly, and plumped itself down past plump. The change of posture, the waddle that came with the gain. All of it detracted from the former buoyancy of youth. Even her growing sluggishness played its part. But still, no person should be deceived into thinking a person gained 25 years in 9 months, without The Irishman’s technology.
“So, when’s the appointment?” Betty asked, putting Chinese food in her mouth. Thursday night was known informally as Takeout Thursday. Though, it should be acknowledged, that the Takeout prefix could have been applied to most of the days of the week.
“What appointment?” I asked, genuinely forgetting.
“Your doctor’s, silly” Betty giggled, looking smart in clothes that actually fit her. Shame about the trickle of chow mein down the front. It was impressive how much she’d continue to gain, considering how much inevitably ended up down her top.
“Oh, that. Four weeks” I said glumly, well aware that the sweet and sour pork balls probably weren’t going to help with this impending verdict.
“You know, if you wanna, I can...” she gestured that she could take my portion off me. I paused and thought, before politely declining. To Wiktoria, it would have looked like I was just stretching it out, amping up the pressure. To Betty, it would have looked like a genuine pause for thought. The truth was that it was sorta both of those things.
“So… how’s things with Ebba?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable in this room with just Wicky and Betty. Betty’s reply was just a guilty blush that told a wild untold story that I didn’t really want to hear about. And the room again slipped into silence.
“So when did you last go to the doctor’s?” Betty asked, with warmth and concern.
“I don’t really wanna talk about...”
“Last February” Wiktoria interrupted.
“And how much did she weigh back then?” Betty asked Wiktoria, a slender smile appearing again at the thought.
“Please, can we change the topic of this conv...”
“170lbs” Wiktoria answered, again on my behalf. I just looked down guiltily.
“Wow...” Betty exclaimed.
“Yeah, and she gave me shit for it back then. Said I was overweight and that my rate of gain was alarming. And that was a quarter ton ago” I sulked, arms folded.
“Well, when you put it like that… look, I’ll help you Leona. I’ll eat anything you need. Honestly. For you, I’ll do it” Betty smiled such a sweet smile it could have turned a rabid dog placid.
And this is what I had been planning for, wasn’t it? This is what I wanted. For Betty to ask me to help. For her to volunteer to eat my food. Stage 3 in a nutshell, just as I’d devised. And yet…
And yet, I wanted to say no. I wanted to refuse help. Because I wanted to eat. I wanted to eat with abandon. I wanted to throw caution to the wind and over-indulge, like I was used to doing. This is what I wanted, goddammit! I wanted this takeaway. I wanted the prawn crackers and the BBQ ribs and the egg fried rice and the spicy kung po. And after all that. After all the ungodly eating. I wanted more. I wanted dessert. I wanted cakes. Not singular, plural. I wanted it all. Not to share a drop with Betty fucking Bollingbrooke. But all for myself.
“Thanks” I smiled with a reluctant smile, handing over my plate. I can’t be sure, but I think I looked at the floor sulkily as I did it. Stage 3 was still on track, but as I watched her wolf down all the food that I was planning on eating, on top of all the food she had eaten, I began to feel a sharp pinch of jealousy. I was beginning to feel like the weak link in this plan.

Chapter 30
 
The Betty Project – part 1
 
Betty chastised her self for her lack of will-power. Not with eating. That particular branch of will-powerlessness was one she took absolute pride in. Nor drinking. She found her drinking habits as something worth celebrating – and what better way was there to celebrate than with a drink. Her smoking, the same. These days she smoked like a Victorian chimney, like an unraked California forest. With every chew, quaff or drag, she felt herself drift away from virtue and worthiness. From that haloed mental self-image. But there was one lack of will-power that she wasn’t proud of. She missed Ebba. She had to wait just one week to see the Swede and she was struggling. Flaking. Over Ebba. A girl she had been only seeing for a week. Albeit the most spectacular week of her life.
And it wasn’t as if she didn’t have a social net to catch her. She had us. And we were there to catch her when she fell. Just needed to push her first.
 
It’s really important to state that this wasn’t us fattening Betty. No, that would be untoward. It would be ungentlepersonly. No, Betty was fattening Betty. But if she was the fire, we were to be the gasoline. And it would take all of us. All of The Musketeers. And just hope she would never find out.
I was running point on this. Leona Clefton-Brown – aka The Chief. This was my op and I was calling the shots. She was my best friend and I was hers. And for this to work, for us to actually pull off what we needed to do, I was going to have to get every call right. Use every bit of knowledge I had about Betz and use it. Draw on every resource, press every emotional button. There was a clock on this and there was no time for fuck ups. We needed to get Betty up to size, and get her there fast.
I started straight on Betty. That first Monday back, and I used my influence. All of our time together, there had been a sense of insecurity between us. Betty always anxious about her weight gain and how I would respond to it. When she first started gaining, the look on her face as she saw me seeing her. Guilty and worried, fearing that she’d overdone it. And that was back near the start, when her legs were still snappable like kindling, her stomach not an organ but the connective tissue between her jarring ribs and jutting hips. God, she was so small back then, but she seemed so un-Betty-like in her size. How things change. So when I met up with her that Monday, the first port of call was to rid her of any closet eating. She didn’t need to hide anything any more. It could all be up front and out in the public arena. And the second thing was to justify her furthering her indulgence. And that’s when Rutherford came in.
Rutherford Stones – aka The Distraction. All good cons require misdirection, and Rutherford was a fairly unmissable distraction of chart-topping enormity. Her part was like her stomach; two-fold. First part, the marriage. Her upcoming nuptials with Minnie Charnwood were the perfect excuse for a lot of what we had planned. Starting with celebratory gorging but ending up with something more involved. But there was a second part to Rutherford’s distraction. But we’ll come to that, when we talk about my deputy in all this.
My number two? Oh, that was Wiktoria – aka The Cook. Her role would be vital. Superficially, she was the one who would be a-rustling up the grub, as she was wont to do. Her breakfasts were notorious, but her culinary skill-set would prove to be a weapon throughout the day. But that was only part of it. The real attribute that Wicky brought to proceedings is that she was the group’s unofficial voice of reason. This would be imperative. For this to work, for us to actually pull this off, we wouldn’t just have to get her to eat and drink like she had never before. We had to normalise it. Sure, her current standards were obscene and, in the social vacuum that she was so often in, the extent of her eating was lost on her. But there’s always that nagging acknowledgement in the back of her mind that what she is doing in ridiculously OTT. If we were to ramp things up properly, we had to change that. We had to eliminate those thoughts. So Betty had to loose all perspective, all sense of right and normal. This was where Wicky and Rutherford came in. When there’s a 690lb whale upstairs, it’s hard to keep track of normal. And I can testify to that myself. And when the voice of reason is 550lbs, then what chance does Betty even have?
Then there was Shay. Aka The Antagonist. Every plot needs one. And Shay could play this part in her sleep. Ostensibly, she was just the runner. The gopher. The one who would populate the place with food. After all, this is what she did anyway. But we also let her play to her strengths. Villainy. Which, in turn, would exploit Betty’s greatest weakness. Her kindness. Though it pains me to admit this but without Shay, we had no plan.
After her was Minnie – Aka The Wrecking Ball. Because the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. And this was why having a Minnie in reserve was always useful. The ace in our sleeve. Our hail-mary. If things went wrong, you could always trust Minnie to make things turn wrong-er. It was her super-power.
And finally. Well, almost finally but you’ll find out about that later, was Ebba. Aka – The Bait. Because, if love is blind, then lust is blind, dumb and deaf. And Ebba would be the carrot that we’d dangle to Betty to get her to do what we wanted. She was our Macguffin. And she worked best in small doses. But, if used correctly, she’d cloud Betty to everything we planned on wreaking on her.
 
“God, this is good” I exclaimed as we dig into our customary Monday lunch together. “You know what, I’m kinda tempted to order a third. Just because we should. To celebrate. It’s not every day my housemates get engaged”.
“Can you manage a third Betty meal?” she asked with nervous hesitation, little mouse that she still is.
“Probably not. But I feel like I owe it to Rutherford to try. How about you? Would you give it a go? For Rutherford?” I ask. Cynically I know. But we really didn’t have time for fun and games.
“Go on then. For Rutherford”
Bingo.
Our third Betty Meals arrived and we looked at them in horror. But I feigned a smile and we started eating.
Now, you might have been wondering why I keep going on about this ticking clock. Why I keep alluding to this unspecified deadline. Well, as I gorged on my third Betty meal, now is probably as apropos a time as any for me to explain. Simply put, it was doing things like eating a third Betty meal that was, in fact, the problem.
So after our chat last week, when we decided to help Betty with her weight gain and push her up to our level, a quite terrifying point was made that’s been niggling at the back of my mind. This time 11 months ago I was 115lbs. I’d never been skinnier. It wasn’t the healthiest diet I’d ever been on, but rather the emotional breakdown and self-imposed starvation diet, and it was this diet that has probably irredeemably screwed up my metabolism, but I was remarkably skinny. I was light on my feet, I could slip into clothes effortlessly. Everything, in fact, felt effortless to do. And now look at me, just 11 months later. Nothing is effortless. Even just sitting down takes planning.
Rutherford laughed at the thought, when I measured my weight in “time it will take for me to get to Rutherford’s size”. She laughed at my acceptance of it. The inevitability of it. And when you’ve sworn off dieting and live in the fattest household in probably the world, it is inevitable. But I have 6 to 9 months before I am in Rutherford’s state unless my weight, for the first time, tapers off. That means I have 6 to 9 months before I am in Rutherford’s boat of immobility. If we were going to super-size Betty, we needed to have done it by then. Because, in 9 months time, and god it pains me to admit this, I might be verging on being immobile myself.
However, this my have been the ticking clock, but it was also part of the plan.
“You’ve finished already?” I asked, in genuine surprise at Betty dusting off the third one. I knew she was a warrior when it came to eating, but was she already this excessive?
“Yeah, you look like your struggling” Betty replied sympathetically, before her face contorted in horror. “Oh my god, am I able to eat more than you these days?”
“No chance. No, I could normally dust this one off no problem it’s just...” and here we go, here’s where we start to reel her in. “It’s just that I had the most ridiculous breakfast you’ve ever seen. Even by Wicky’s standards. We were celebrating the proposal and she went a bit overboard and… I was still kinda full from the night before”.
“Wow!”
“Yeah, look… you know what I said about Shay?”
“That she’s been fattening Rutherford up to make her immobile out of revenge? And that’s why Minnie’s marrying her, to get out of her being deported?” Betty checked.
“Yeah. Well, it’s not just her she’s been doing it to” I lied, enticing her.
“What?” Betty’s eyes bulged as she exclaimed it.
“Yeah. Truth is she’s been doing it all of us. The bitch. And, long story short, I can’t eat another thing. Could you finish it off for me?” I pushed the box towards her, still half-full. And though some of that was a lie to hook her in, some of it was true. I was genuinely stuffed, even at my size. The terrifying flash of being immobile sheet-lightninged through my head. But I couldn’t be distracted, I had to stick to the plan.
“I don’t know if I can” Betty said nervously, cradling her gut.
“Oh, just try your best. You’re doing me a favour either way. You are the anti-Shay. The anti-bitch” I smile warmly, laying seeds that I’d reap later.
“Aww, that’s really nice Leona. Thanks” Betty said, not even realising she was accepting the box and eating from it. “So is Shay really that evil?”
“God, she’s ruined everything. And sure, the wedding will buy us time. But it doesn’t buy us anything else. Rutherford’s lost her funding and is now drowning in debt. I’m trying to chip in but...”
“I can help” Betty’s eyes widened. The little lamb that she is.
“No. No, I can’t ask you to help”
“Oh, it’s fine. That’s very kind but you don’t...”
“No, I want to help” Betty protested, falling right into the plan. “I have savings. How much do you need?”
“I don’t need your money...” I paused, pretending to have a flash of epiphanic brilliance. “I mean, there’s one thing you could do. I mean, it’s a bit of a big deal so I don’t expect you to say yes but...”
“What is it?” she asked, impatiently.
“Well, we have a spare room you see. Rutherford, Minnie and Shay – the kinky fucks – have one bedroom, me and Wicky have another. It’s a three-bedroom place. If you wanted a reason to give us money, but in a way that I don’t feel guilty about taking it...” I looked at her to see her face light up. Gotcha! Step one, completed.
“Oh, that would be brilliant! I’d love that more than anything! Can I… can I be a musketeer?” Betty asked with childish wonder.
“I mean, the sixth musketeer doesn’t feel canonical but I’m sure Dumas won’t mind and anyway… I’d love you to be a musketeer” I smile, noticing her so distracted by the good news that she doesn’t realise that she’s finished.
 
 
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
 
 
By Wednesday, we’d cleared the room out for Betty to move in, and by Thursday her stuff was in. And step one was completed. Sure, that was the easy bit; it was only going to get more difficult from that point onwards, but it was great to clear the first hurdle of the Betty Project. She was here, where we needed her. And it was time to enact stage two; challenge her norms. So, enter stage left – Rutherford.
“Hey, so nice to have a neighbour. Don’t worry if you hear creaking bedposts at any point. It’s probably just me having a threesome” Rutherford teased, simultaneously unnerving and putting Betty at ease, as she lounged about in her bed, thriving in her own enormity.
“Cool. I guess. I mean, good for you” Betty couldn’t take her eyes off her, even if it was just her arms above the duvet that she could see.
“It is. It is sooo good for me. Speaking of which, I hear you’ve put on a few?” Rutherford smiled that rosy smile of hers. “You look good Betz. It suits you. Curves. What are you… 180 now?”
“200 actually” Betty nearly let slip that she was slightly affronted by the underestimation.
“God, 200. Yeah, that takes me back. I remember hitting the big 2-0-0. Skinny little thing that I was.” Rutherford continued, subtly needling Betty.
“200 isn’t that small” she protested politely.
“Oh, you poor little thing. Of course not. Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just… I mean… look at me. I’m hoping to quadruple that in the next couple of weeks” Rutherford spun her first lie.
“What? How? I thought you were on 680 last time we spoke?” Betty’s eyebrows angled down like divebombing birds of prey. Falling hook, line and sinker for the trap just laid.
“Oh my god, did you not hear? Our scales were broken in the flat. Apparently we had to re-set the 0 value or something geeky. I don’t know. Anyway, the new ones tell us that we were underestimating out weight by 100lbs. All of us” Rutherford lied with a candy smile.
“What? Really?” Betty exclaimed, her caterpillar eyebrows now rising up her forehead.
“Yeah. So I’m nearly 800” Rutherford lied again.
“And Leona? Wicky?”
“Yeah, all of them. I mean, it makes sense, if you think about it. Leona’s nearly 600. Wicky 654” Rutherford continued her deceit, adding 100lbs onto each of our weights. Making heavier seem not as heavy. “We only realised yesterday when it said that Minnie was 82lbs and we were like, I know she’s lost some weight recently, but c’mon!”
And the lie seemed to be working. Betty stood back in shock, being told that she was positively tiny compared to me and Wicky. And, in a way, she was. But the shifting of these goalposts all served to undermine her sense of normal. Disrupt her balance. Make bigger not sound as bad.
“I blame Shay. She’s amazing Betty. You’re gonna love her. She’s positively evil, it’s so good” Rutherford cooed, and Betty could see Rutherford begin to convulse pleasurably at just the thought of it. “Anyway, how do you fancy having a bite to eat with me? We’ll see how long you can keep up. I mean, I’ve just eaten but, this is me we’re talking about” Rutherford said, signalling for Betty to lift the trays of food by her bed up.
And, while this was happening, I was waiting downstairs for the text. The text from Rutherford saying that everything was oll korrect, and everything was going to plan. After half an hour of no contact, I was impressed. It seems Betty had managed to hold her own against the human Kraken that was Rutherford for longer than a girl her comparative size might be expected to. After an hour, that sense of respect turned to concern. Still no text. After 1hr30, I was checking my phone nervously, waiting for confirmation. Surely, even Betty, would be wilting after that long. Something must be wrong. Another ten minutes and I noticed that I was twitching nervously, my leg bouncing up and down on the spot like it used to back in the days when my leg didn’t weight as much as a normal person. Another 10 minutes and I was contemplating interrupting to see what was up. And then my phone lit up.
 
Done
But fk me, Betz gave me a run for my money
Srsly, another hour and I’d have been struggling
ruthers x
 
This was going to be more difficult than we thought.
 
 
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
 
 
Fortunately, Ebba was up next, for the weekend shift. And I began to realise I’d need to expand my pool of provisions and backstops. Betty had developed quite an astonishing appetite in isolation. For us to ramp it up, we would need more support. I rang a number and began involving another member into the plan. That means a two-person backstop should the shit hit the fan. And you know, I was beginning to suspect that it would.
You see, being an amateur linguist such as myself involves consuming media like it’s chocolate bourbons. And there’s no better way to familiarise yourself with a language than listening to that language being used. Podcasts are great, films are great, but TV shows are best. The great thing about TV shows is you get to spend more time than in a film, picking up the beats and rhythms of a language. And you can see their faces, which you can’t in a podcast. So, I’ve been watching La Casa De Papel. Or Money Heist as Netflix deemed it to be translated as. It’s a heist show, in Spanish, and it’s an ode to the idea that plans are only as good as their back-up plans.
Betty being handled – so to speak – by Ebba meant that I had time to recuperate. And I needed it. Project Betty had been all-consuming and, as a result, so had I. It stressed me out. It reminded me of the bad old days, near the end of first year, when Rutherford and Minnie took things up a gear and introduced us to a whole new level of gormandising. Which worried me more than I cared to let on.
“Hello my girlfriend” Wiktora smiled as she sat on the couch opposite, not really paying attention to the creak that it makes. It’s the little things like that, that I’ve begun to notice.
“Hi Wik, sorry, I was in my own head” I said, snapping out of my thoughts. “How are you?”
“I am very good. I ate a big meal and now I am eating a big dessert. Big coffee cake. I will leave half of the cake for you” Wiktoria offered, and I smiled meekly, again thinking of my ballooning weight and the long-term potential consequences. Wiktoria’s contentment at her own eating put me a little at ease. Seeing Wiktoria just eating an entire coffee cake with a tablespoon, no care in the world.
“You know, I was thinking, when Betz gets back, we step up to phase 3”
“Really, Leona? But we are still not finishing phase 2. We have to make her think this is new normal” Wiktoria said sternly, between abnormally large mouthfuls of abnormally decadent cake. No wonder she was a quarter ton.
“I just want to keep our foot on the accelerator. Press our advantage” I explained.
“Fine. They’re your rules that you are breaking” she said, chewing dismissively.
“Yeah, they are”
“Are you sure you don’t want any cake?” Wiktoria offered once more.
“I’m good” I declined. But I wasn’t. None of us were. We were so busy discussing skewing Betty’s sense of normal that we didn’t think to look to deep at our own. We needed to pick up the pace. Regardless of the cost.

Chapter 29
 
 
One week earlier
 
 
“Rutherford”
“I can’t believe I get a full week of being filled to the gills. Like, yeah, yeah, yeah, I know it’s technically reading week or whatever. But the only thing this whale is gonna be reading is her scales as her weight is going up, ya feel me? And I know you feel me. Geddit? As in, you literally feel me” Rutherford babbled.
“Rutherford, love”
“Like, it’s gonna be so good. I’m gonna balloon. Nah, fuck ballooning. I’m gonna Zeppelin. Yeah. I’m not gonna be some basic ballooning bitch. Balloons are tiny. I want scale. I want enormity. I want to be so big, I’m only known as OMFG. Not Rutherford, or Ruthers. No, just OMFG. Cos that’s all anybody says when they see me. O. M. F. G.”
“Rutherford!”
“Like -”
“RUTHERFORD!” Minnie yelled, frustrated in a way that she rarely was. Rutherford just looked up, her face draped in shock.
“What? What is it? What’s… what’s that envelope in your hand?” Rutherford asked, squirming with nerves.
“It’s the university. I’m sorry love but you’ve been kicked off the course” Minnie tilted her head in sympathy as she said it.
“What?” Rutherford sat upright in her bed as Minnie delivered the news. So did Shay, who was also in the room just reading a book and snacking from the queued pile of Rutherford food. Rutherford’s face dropped. Shay’s face lit up.
“Love, did… have you been getting letters warning you about your attendance? Emails? Cos it says here you have” Minnie asked, with concern but also a murmuration of parental frustration.
“Yeah, but like, everybody does. It’s just hot air. Like, they’ve not actually kicked me off the course, have they?” Rutherford asked, suddenly scared, her eyes scanning in their sockets as she tried to map out the extent of the consequences.
“Since you’re attendance has continued below out expected threshold – at 0% - and you have not made any attempt to improve, or respond to any of the correspondence sent to your student email account, your registered mobile phone number or through to your registered address, we have no alternative but to terminate your education with Brighton University from this point on. All loan fees will have to be repaid and your student visa will be terminated as a consequence. Please note that, should you wish to challenge findings… blah, blah, blah… we are deeply disappointed given the impressive grades from your first year and glowing teacher reviews from… blah, blah, blah… Finally, please note your parents have been informed. Yours sincerely… Dickhead Mcfuckface” Minnie read.
“Is his name really Dickhead Mcfuckface?” Rutherford asked, but it was between heavy, chest thrusting tears, as she finally found something she couldn’t digest. The reality of her situation.
“No love. Look, I’m just gonna leave you a minute, okay? But, I’ll be just in the corridor. So if you want something, just shout. Alright?” Minnie said, before gesturing to Shay to leave the room.
“I’ll think I’ll stay” Shay smiled.
“No, love. You’re gonna shift your arse out of this room, or I’m gonna turn your fucking face into a fucking Picasso picture. Capiche?” Minnie said, her green eyes flickering with a red rub fury. And Shay sulkily slumped out of the room to leave Rutherford on her own, with just her thoughts, her food and her tears.
 
 
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
 
 
“Just stop smiling, you weirdly sadistic fuck. I mean, what kinda childhood leaves someone so arse about tit in the empathy department.” Leona grumbled at Shay, who hummed as she snacked on a bag of salted peanuts. They’d all had a day to digest the news, and all the girls bar the borderline bed-bound Rutherford were downstairs and looking at each other, hoping for answers.
“Jeez, whatever. Like I totally didn’t tell yinz that this was gonna happen. She’s gonna be deported or reported or whatever it is when you are forced back home, and her parents are gonna freak the frick out when they see her. They will think she’s literally eaten the devil. They will exercise her and exorcise her. And karma is gonna get its bitch on” Shay bragged, strutting around the room like a peacock during mating season.
“Why does not she stay here anyway? She can be here. And not at the university?” Wiktoria asked.
“Because of her visa, love” Minnie explained. “She’s on a student visa. She’s American, remember? It’s why she talks daft and it’s why she thinks football is a sport that’s played predominantly with your hands, and it’s why, when her visa is removed, she’s ineligible to stay without a replacement work visa”.
“Oh, this is not good” Wiktoria wilted, wandering over to the kitchen.
“Wicky love, are you cooking right now? Like, I love you feeding people as much as the next sexual deviant, but is this really the time?” Minnie asked, watching Wiktoria pull out pans and ingredients from the cupboard.
“I am pissed off. Cooking keeps me calm” Wiktoria explained.
“Argh, this is all so fucked up. Fucking red tape bollocks. Where the fuck is Betty?” Leona raged, messaging her friend again. She hadn’t heard from her since reading week had started and they really needed the full gang back together if they were gonna fix this.
“She not answer her phone? Maybe is she having a big party with handsome Remus. Because Lionel is sacked?” Wicky suggested, cracking some eggs in a bowl.
“No. I asked him and he said she might be with some other girl maybe?” Leona sighed, putting her phone back down in exasperation.
“Ahhh, about that” Minnie winced.
“Minnie? What are you not telling us? What have you done?” Leona asked, her voice crackling with frayed temper.
“Nowt really. Just introduced her to a friend” Minnie squirmed.
“Which friend?”
“You know that one that I… with her… when me and Ruthers hit that rough patch?” Minnie mumbled, looking down at the floor.
“The girl you cheated on Rutherford with? That girl? The fucked up fangirl who fetishises fattened up females? That girl? And you’ve introduced her to Betz? My best mate? Who’s trying to quit over-indulging?” Leona’s voice was rising steadily.
“To be fair love, she wasn’t trying to quit over-indulging very hard” Minnie quietly countered.
“Look, I’m not angry. With you. With her. I’m just… we could really do with her right now and… I’m just annoyed with what’s happened. Rutherford, for all her elephantine tendencies, she’s a good girl. And… you ever wonder what would have happened if that Shaun lad never opened his mouth and said the words ‘free hit’. Would we be thin? Would we be friends? Would we be here anyway, worrying about how many jumbos the jet will have to be to take Rutherford back to the one place she doesn’t want to go?” Leona sighed.
“I guess it’s all my fault then” Minnie said, quietly. Guiltily.
“No, I wanna take some of the blame guys. I literally engineered this. This is my master plan. You don’t need a guilty conscience. This is all on me” Shay argued.
“Wow, that was almost… kind of you? Are you okay Shay?” Leona asked.
“Yeah, it must be the joy of ruining Rutherford’s life that made me do that. Just a temporary aberration, order will be restored and I’ll continue to be the monster yinz know and hate” Shay smirked, opening another bag of peanuts.
“What about you, Shay? What are you gonna do? You gonna stay here or go back and taunt her back in the States? And how come you have a visa to stay here actually, come to think of it?” Leona asked, and all the other girls turned around and looked too.
“Not gonna tell you” Shay smiled.
“Yes. Tell us. Please Shay” Wiktoria pleaded.
“There is absolutely no reason for me to do that” Shay pranced around the room with a flaunty cavort.
“We’ll make it worth your while” Leona asked.
“There is nothing you could give me. Nothing I want more than this” Shay gloated, and the room fell silent.
The girls looked around at each other for inspiration, and then down at the floor in defeat. And they were defeated. This was the end of the road. No way back. Rutherford was upstairs, crying her thready heart out, and the other girls slumped around helplessly while Shay barely held back from a victory dance. And then Minnie looked up with a glint in her green eyes. And an old relic returned to her face, a crooked smile, twisted like an old man’s walking cane, wrapping itself round the side of her mouth.
“I’ve got something you want more than that” Minnie said.
“What?” Shay asked, a little intimidated by the venom in Minnie’s eyes.
“You hate her, don’t you? That’s what this has all been about. You hate her. She came onto you when you were kids, 17 or whatever. And they bullied her summat rotten for it. Some homophobic, Bible-bashing, red-hat-wearing backwater, and they tormented her. The kids, but the teachers too. The parents. Even her parents. But then she left. Free from it all. But you stayed” Minnie said, standing up. “They didn’t just bully her, did they? They bullied you too. They bullied her for being gay; they bullied you for being gay. And it wasn’t even your fault. And you couldn’t even escape. Not like she did. You were trapped, weren’t you? Trapped in it all. Everybody looking at you and thinking you’re some closeted queer. No wonder you were angry. No wonder you wanted to ruin her life. And no wonder you wanted to do it with kindness”.
“Nothing kind about it” Shay protested.
“Sure there is. You could have done anything. Punished her anyhow. But you chose to give her owt she wanted, to such an extent that it cost her. You over-indulged her. What kind of Hannibal Lecter wannabe would do what you did otherwise? You eat her out, you feed her, you wait on her hand and foot? And you call that vengeance? Love, it’s love. You love her. You always did. And you fancied the fuck out of her, all along. Your best mate. And she had to ruin it by acting on how you’d been feeling and repressing all along, and ruined it. You love her, and you hate her, in earth-shattering quantities. And that’s why you’re here doing this” Minnie continued.
“That’s crap, that is. But whatever, see if I care”
“So, why don’t you have your cake and eat it? Stop this childhood penal bollocks and cut to the chase. You want what’s worst for her, and you want to pleasure her? There’s only one way to do that” Minnie said, licking her lips as she spoke.
“What?” Shay stammered.
“More of the same” Minnie smirked.
“Really? That’s your great offer? Screw you” Shay spat back.
“She’s started getting bed-sores. You know cos you help me treat them. Irritated skin in her folds too. And she’s soooo close to immobility. And you’re gonna let that all go to waste. Let her parents… how did you put it… ‘exercise her and exorcise her’? Fix her? You’ll never get fixed, but she will. Is that what you want? Them to undo all this? Or?” Minnie leant in, keen to seal the deal. “Shall we tip her over to immobility. Cross the irredeemable threshold. Feed her til she has health problems. Feed her til she needs a Cpap machine. Feed her until all that’s left of her is her size. Not her fashion sense or her love of films or her intelligence or her sense of humour. Really tip her over the edge. Until she’s not Rutherford or Ruth or Ruthers at all. Until all she is and all people see when they look at her is OMFG. There’s nothing so cruel that her parents can do that you can’t do worse. Kill her with kindness. Death by chocolate. Here lies Rutherford Stones – OMFG”.
Shay stopped chewing peanuts and sat down.
“I don’t know what you guys call it, but over in the States, we call it a green card marriage” Shay sighed, resigning herself to giving up on her plan right at the finish line. Ensnared by Minnie’s temptation. “Just some online rando, a few hundred bucks and whatever. That’s how I get to stay here. There’s some crappy test and you have to have lived here for a couple of years, but the website sorted all that for me for another couple of K. I told you this plan took some doing. It was long-haul. It was a good plan, right?”
“Yeah, I guess it weren’t too shabby. But I think we might do it a bit more legit. You’ve given me an idea Shay. I think I’m gonna marry Rutherford Stones.”
 
 
-*-*-*-*-*-*-
 
 
All the girls were in Rutherford’s room for the first time in ages. They’d grabbed all the chairs they had and planted them around the bed and its engorged centrepiece.
“I do” Rutherford giggled, wiggling her feet in excitement.
“I didn’t get you a ring because… well we’re drowning in debt as it is, paying off your loan and we’ll need money for the wedding. Also, they don’t do wedding bands in your size. You have very fat fingers, don’t you know?” Minnie teased her fiancée.
“All the better for eating with” Rutherford smiled. “Wait… we’re not doing a church are we?”
“You don’t want a church wedding?” Minnie sounded surprised.
“Well, it’s just a lot of walking and… I dunno, I’m just not that into walking” Rutherford shrugged.
“Fair dos, love. Maybe best if we just hit up the registry office, celebrate in our own way. Probably best since I dunno how we’d find a dress that fitted you. Unless anyone knows a spare cotton factory! Yeah, we’ll celebrate the old fashioned way. Get you downstairs for a change, nice change of scenery, and feed you. All of us, this time. Everything you ever wanted. 48 hours. Like we did for Betty, but this time for you” Minnie mused.
Rutherford smiled and held back joyous tears.
“Hey, what about our waistlines? Don’t we get a say in this?” Leona asked with her hand raised like she was at a school assembly..
“What about your waistlines? I thought you’d given up on diets for good?” Minnie asked, quizzically.
“Yeah, we have. But there’s a line between not dieting and doing that 48 hour party people thing. Look, I’m only 200lbs less than Rutherford...”
“Only 200lbs? Girl, there’s no such thing as only 200lbs. You’re fine. As long as I’m around, you’re gonna look skinny” Rutherford reassured.
“Thanks. I guess. But...”
“No ‘buts’. And anyway, you’re probably more than 200lbs lighter these days. You know I’m up to 681lbs, right?”
“Fuck”
“I know right?”
“Is that all?” Leona couldn’t hide the disappointment.
“Hey, what do you mean ‘Is that all?’. That’s a crazy amou… oh, I see what’s going on here. Go on then, how much do you weigh?”
“I’m up to 491lbs these days Ruthers. I mean… that’s scary close to 500. When Wicky reached that, I nearly lost the plot. And she’s 7 inches taller than me and… if I keep going at this rate… I’m 6 to 9 months away from being your size” Leona confessed.
It was at this point that all the girls took their time to have a proper look at Leona. With all the Minnie and Rutherford drama, and with Rutherford realigning previous definitions of normal, they hadn’t really noticed how big Leona was. And she always wore it so well. Her make-up was regal, her dress sense as flattering as it can be on a woman her size. Maybe they should have noticed when she shuffled to her size to get through the doorframe. Maybe they should have realised when Leona opted for a fourth chair beneath where most of her weight went. But Leona was not just fat any more. She was following the same path that Rutherford had charted. The ‘free hit’ lineage.
“Six to nine months? Oh my god, that is so hot. I love that you measure yourself not in kilos or pounds, but months until you’re my size. But, trust me, it’ll plateau. It’ll slow down, your weight gain. It has for me and you’ve seen how I eat. Honestly, you have nothing to worry about. Keep seizing the day. YOLO diem and all that. Honestly Leona” Rutherford would have patted Leona on the back as she said that, but she was peeling the muffin case off of a muffin.
“What about me?” Wiktoria asked, but more with curiosity than trepidation. She still carried herself with confidence.
“Well, you’re tall. It’s fine. Like, how much do you even weigh?”
“I don’t know” Wiktoria shrugged. It hadn’t really crossed her mind.
“When was the last time you weighed yourself?”
“The diet. I reached 500. That was second week of term, so… 6 weeks ago?” Wiktoria did the maths.
“Let’s do a sweepstake. How about it? We’re all kith around here so no harm in it. Leona, you go first? How much do you think your girlfriend weights?” Minnie asked, turning it all into a game, as ever.
“I dunno, 515 or so?” Leona shrugged.
“Oh, lay off it. Only 15lbs in 6 week. Nobody can gain that little in this household. Shay, you have a go?”
“Who cares? 525Lbs. She looks fat” Shay tried to appear disinterested, but was flattered at the inclusion.
“Ruthers?”
“520, she looks loads skinnier than me” Rutherford gleaned Wicky’s figure whilst judging like it was sweets in a jar at a fair.
“And you Wicky? What do you think?”
“510lbs maybe. I’ve been good” Wiktoria lied.
“Fuck, I can just tell from looking at you that youse are all underestimating summat chronic. I’m gonna guess 54… 9. Yeah, 549lbs” Minnie decided, plumping for a plump figure to describe a plump figure.
Wiktoria got the scales out and took a deep breath, before wincing as she stepped on. The automated voice told everyone in the room who much they’d been underestimating.
554lbs.
“Oh my god, I’m so jealous. I can’t believe you’re still outpacing a pound a day at your size. It’s just not fair. I want your metabolism” Rutherford bleated.
“I am… really fat” Wiktoria wilted.
“Yeah” Shay sniped. “If you’re gaining at that rate, nearly 100 days away from being Rutherford sized. And she’s nearly immobile”
“Oh, lay off it. All of you” Leona yelled. “She’s gorgeous. A stylish Hollywood star. And yeah, she’s not light. But she’s also tall. I bet she’s healthier than me”
And Leona made a good point. Wiktoria carried it well. But there was such a lot to carry well, even on her frame and with her broad shoulders. In fact, it seems counter-intuitive, but the immensity of her scale somehow drowned out her weight. She looked fat, undoubtedly. Huge even. But not Earth-tremblingly so, her adipose baggage spread across her with as much uniformity as can be afforded when in that quantity. Her stomach still had drag to it, as it hung like a hot dog’s tongue over her waistband. But it didn’t swallow her body as it might on a different build.
“It is okay. I am confident and happy, and I am never dieting. It is fine” Wiktoria proudly stated, before glancing insecurely at her girlfriend. “It is fine?”
“Yes Wicky, you look great and I will never pressure you into slimming. At any weight” Leona reassured.
“Even 600lbs?”
“Oh Wicky, you’ll probably get there by the time new year rolls around. So of course not”
“700lbs?”
“I reckon… end of the academic year”
“800lbs?”
“Probably by the time you graduate. As long as you plateau like Rutherford says”
“And you won’t make me diet? Even at 800lbs. Even at 120lbs more than Rutherford is now?” Wiktoria stared intently at her girlfriend. “You will still find me sexy?”
“So very, very sexy” Leona said, leaning in across their respecting stomachly protrusions for a smooch. “I reckon we’ll be the fattest couple in the whole world”.
“Oh my god, guys. That actually reminds me…” Rutherford interrupted, flapping her flappy arms about. “Did you guys know I’m the fattest woman in the UK? Seriously, Google it and it’ll say it’s some 672lb light-ass who has lost the weight anyway. I mean, UK’s standards are kinda low. Back home, I’m barely overweight. But yeah, over here, I’m a record-breaker. And you two are probably a record-breaking couple already. All we need is to get Betty over here and get her to fulfil her potential and I reckon our house will be the fattest place in the world”.
“Fuck off” Leona laughed. “Betty’s small-fry compared to us, bless her. She’s about Minnie’s size”.
“Oh love, you have no idea, do you? Betty’s a 200lb girl these days. None of us were that size this early on in the academic year, last year” Minnie commented smugly.
“Fuck” Leona replied.
“We should totally get her to join the club. She could do great things. Oh my god, you all should help her out. I mean, between you and this new girlfriend she’s got...” Rutherford suggested, licking her lips at the thought.
“You mean fatten her up. Even more than she’s doing herself? Inflict our issues on her?” Leona argued.
“Hey, they’re not issues. We’re record-breakers, remember? Given time, I reckon she could be a record breaker too. That’s all” Rutherford said with a cheeky grin. “C’mon, she’d like it, her girlfriend would like it, I’d love it. Everyone’s a winner when everyone’s a sinner. Let’s promote her to the big leagues.”
The girls sat around and looked at each other and shrugged. They could have said no. Defied how they were defined. Spared Betty their way of life. But to do so would be to accept responsibility, guilt for how things have gone. They had to take pride in their size, because the only other option was shame. So they all decided, unofficially, that being fat was a good thing. Because then, they were something to be proud of. And, if being fat is good, then why not invite Betty to the cause. Betty Bollingbrooke, marathon runner. Let’s see what damage they could do to her, if they tried. If everyone, including herself, ganged up on Betty.
“What about me?” Shay said sheepishly.
“What about you?” Minnie sneered.
“Am I just gonna be ignored? I mean, I’m not saying I’m a record-breaker or whatever, I don’t wanna get like fat or whatever. But can’t I join in the fun? You talk about everyone in this house and just pretend I’m not here. It was my idea for you two to get married?” Shay argued, weakly.
“Yeah, but you also tried to ruin her life” Minnie glared.
“I guess… but I do so much for Ruth. Tell her, Ruth. Tell her. Tell her how much I help you?” Shay turned to her oldest friend, worst enemy, deepest crush.
“It’s Ruthers. Not Ruth” Rutherford snarled back, and Shay slumped. “But… I guess… I mean, your hateful vibe has been kinda hot. And you’ve been kinda gaining just by osmosis”.
“I have not” Shay said defensively. But it was true. She’d come over in the best shape of her life. In a Minnie mouse dress and with a bow in her hair. Freckles and a red dress and looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. And now, it was starting to look like maybe a little too much butter had been melting in her mouth. And now she’d been resorting to wearing Rutherford’s old clothes. Albeit, clothes from last year, well before she went supersonic. But still… she look puffier than she started.
“Fine. She can be an official musketeer, I guess. For you Ruthers, though. And if she tries any over her basic Kylo Ren bullshit, I’ll strangle her with the straps of her dungarees. But, for now, welcome to the club. Now, I’m thinking, we might need your feeding skills on Betty”.
 

Chapter 2
 
“So, you have your CLP come through?”
It was late May and it was warm. Clouds were blocking the sun out but keeping the heat in. Clouds of varying shades of beige. Some were off-white and some were ivory, some were egg-shell and some were desert sand, some were ecru and some were cosmic latte, some were tuscan and some were unbleached silk. And all of them looked like they were carrying water, but had no intention of releasing it onto the small town of Le Mars. Which left things as they were: warm with a thick humidity.
His name was Chesney and he was junior manager at the Western Haulage’s depot. Chesney. His name was Chesney. Like Kenny Chesney. Supposedly. His hair was long and greasy, with wirey gray woven between his natural brown hues. He looked as though he’d enjoyed his life over the years. A healthy gut, ruddy cheeks, and a smile that he was rarely without.
“Yeah, here it is” Nora handed him the paperwork.
“And regular driver’s license?”
Nora handed that over too.
“No smile?” Chesney said, looking at the photo.
“It’s a driving license. You’re not supposed to smile”
“I always smile. You point a camera at Chesney, and Chesney’s gonna smile” Chesney smiled. Despite the absence of any nearby cameras. He then returned to his spiel. “So, I’m CDL qualified, so I have to sit with you on journeys until you pass your test. You can only take your test after 14 days of possessing your CLP. The skills test will consist of three parts: the road test, the vehicle inspection test and… I always forget the other one. I don’t remember what it is, but...it's important.  All three are vital. Once you pass your tests, you can start trucking for real. So, uh, welcome to Western Haulage”.
Nora smiled back, but her heart wasn’t in it. It wouldn’t have been in it on a day of radiant sunshine. But this was Iowa. It was somehow gray and warm. The kind that makes you sweat but not get a tan. Le Mars, Iowa in a nutshell.
Nora was hugging herself despite being warm. She hadn’t helped herself with how she’d dressed. She was no fashionista, but she did have a mom who used to run a fabrics store, so she figured she knew a thing or two about clothing. However, she’d not exactly known what to wear for work. It was work, but there was no uniform. It was a job, but the company was quite casual and informal. She’d ended with a jacket that looked good without looking like she’d put in effort. Though she was regretting the extra layer in the warm conditions.
“And what will I be driving?”
Chesney’s face would have lit up at that question, had the 40 year old man not stopped smiling the entire time he had been talking to her.
“You’ll be driving Sweet Iowa herself”
Great, Nora thought. The trucks have names. And worse still. Hers was called Sweet Iowa. When getting away from Iowa was supposed to be one of the few perks of the job.
“Hey, don’t look like that. She’s great for starters. Smaller? Yes. And forgiving for the driver, but great in tough conditions. It could be worse. Mine? Old Chesney here has to do battle with big old Champs Elias and it’s been a tough old time. Had to have its gearbox replaced three times the past 5 years”
He showed Nora a photo of a large, articulated truck that, as far as she could tell, looked just like every other one she had ever seen. Underneath the picture were the words Champs Elysees, though Nora thought better of correcting his pronunciation. He seemed so smiley after all.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
“So, what was driving it like?”. They were under the bed covers together watching Heathers for about the 8th time. It was Paisley’s favourite and Nora didn’t mind. There were worse films. Like Duel, for example, which is how her nightmares had been recently.
“I dunno. Complicated, I guess. I dunno, it feels less like driving a car and more like flying a plane. On the ground. I dunno, just complicated” Nora said as she put her spoon into her mouth as she watched Heather Duke make herself puke and being mocked for it by Heather Chandler. Bulimia always looked unpleasant. Nora had known a few girls from school who’d had dalliances with eating disorders, but no one who had committed to them. Well, not that they knew of. Her high school was far too boring for that. Maybe Paisley had tried it? How do you ask a question like that though? Best not to, Nora reasoned.
“Do you have to drive stick?”
“Yeah, split shift 13 speed transmission. Like I say, complicated” Nora said, twisting her head to see Paisley putting a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “How’s yours?”
“Ice cream? Same as always: really good. Like, all ice cream is good ice cream. Apart from vanilla cuz that literally has no flavor. Hey, you wanna try some? And I’ll take some of your Peanut Butter Fudge?”
They swapped spoons to enjoy each other’s Well’s ice cream and Paisley leaned into her best friend a little closer. This had been the third time that Nora had found herself in Paisley’s bed this week, eating ice cream and watching the earlier parts of Winona’s filmography. No paycheck yet, that Well’s discount was coming in useful for the ice cream, and Netflix was sorting out the movies. Though the absence of Beetlejuice in Netflix’s back catalog was noted.
“Nor…”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks”
Nora straightened up and looked at her friend at her with confusion.
Both Nora and Paisley were in nighties. It had been a custom since they first became friends. They would huddle together and giggle mischievously. Nora realised that, as the older friend, she probably needed to comfort Paisley. After the incident at the school with Mr Durant, who wouldn’t need it? So it became a thing. A decade of nighties and Heathers and under the covers giggling. And, recently, Wells ice cream.
And somehow it felt no different, a decade later. Paisley’s parents didn’t seem to mind because, well, you know how Paisley’s parents are. And Paisley didn’t mind, there was a security and comfort to the routine of it, two things that Paisley had a huge amount of time for. And Nora didn’t mind. Nora didn’t mind one bit.
“What for?”
“Just… hanging. I dunno, I just… I had this idea that we wouldn’t hang out as much. Now we aren’t working together any more” Paisley looked up sympathetically at Nora, whose eyebrows flinched at the honesty.
“Yeah, well I was planning on hanging out with all my old trucker buddies but they cancelled on me so…” Nora flashed a smile while her heart beat a little faster.
“You won’t ditch me, will you though? Like, when you get your proper licence and go explore the wild, blue yonder and everything?”
“Paisley… you are the most important person in my life and I will never - NEVER - ditch you like that. I promise” Nora said, looking into her friend’s eyes. Not accidentally. But deliberately meeting them and refusing to let go. Hang onto them, Nora. And don’t let go.
“Oh my god, I wish we really were lesbians. You’d make such a great girlfriend. Just think of the movies we could watch together then” Paisley said sweetly.
Nora didn’t answer. She just let her eyes return to the screen. Christian Slater was there looking smug. Nora never really understood his appeal in this movie. She never understood the appeal of Christian Slater at all, really.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Denise was sitting in her chair, looking at paperwork. Another meeting in Sioux City with the handsome man from the bank, and hopefully that would be the end of it. Unless, of course, the handsome man would invite her for coffee. No, that would be inappropriate for a married woman. Even if it was just coffee. Even if he was very handsome. And had really great hair.
His name was Chase. He looked like a Chase. Chases had hefty jaw lines and a lot of hair product in their really great hair. She figured it was just customer service, being handsome and flirtatious. Trying to reel her in or take out a loan or something. Maybe, if you do a job like that for long enough, you forget to switch it off. Maybe he just doesn’t know how not to flirt. But Chase flirting with her made her wonder if she should dust off the cobwebs and flirt back. After all, he was very handsome. And had really great hair.
It also helped, because it took her mind off things. Financial things. How-are-we-going-to-afford-to-pay-the-bills things. Things that she would find herself thinking about in the times when she shouldn’t be thinking about anything. Her mind wandered like that. The store closure had hit them hard, and Darren’s medical bills made things difficult financially. They’d sold the store building to pay off a chunk of it, but it wasn’t worth much any more, making the store closure all the more difficult. It was all difficult, honestly.
And she knew he wasn’t okay. He never said he wasn’t, but after 29 years of marriage, you don’t really need to. He was quieter these days. Always reading the newspaper or listening to the radio. But the socializing had slowly evaporated over time. Should she push him? Or was that controlling? It was hard not to be controlling with someone who would sit down in the kitchen in the morning and not get up until the evening. It’s not like he could go bowling anymore. She knew it was difficult for him since the amputation but life was always difficult. And it was tiring, walking for two all the time.
For three, if she was being honest. Because there was also her eldest: Nora. The girl was just driftwood, no drive. Honestly, for her, the store closing down was probably the best thing for her. Get her out of her comfort zone. She could have been a doctor, Nora. Always smart enough. She had Denise’s head for numbers and Darren’s ability to make things look easy. But she didn’t want to be a doctor, she didn’t want to even go to college, because she was afraid of not being the smartest in the room. The same way that when she and her friend had that chance to go down to Cedar Rapids, she turned it down. She always acts like she’s too good for Le Mars, Iowa, but that’s how she likes it. She’s afraid of being somewhere she isn’t too good. Needs to be a big fish in a small pond. So, hopefully the job at Western Haulage will help her find her confidence.
And maybe find a man. Because the clock’s ticking and young kids these days don’t appreciate such things, not like Denise’s generation did. Nora was always pretty enough. Effortlessly pretty. Not like some of them these days, always at the gym, spending a week’s wages on a shopping spree in Sioux City. No, Nora liked to pretend she paid her appearance no mind. She was vain, she’d struggle to walk past a mirror without smiling at it, but she never worked out for fear of admitting she was vain. Curvy, cute and self-consciously casual. Most men in town would be punching above their weight with Nora. But nothing ever. Never even brought a boy home. That’s the thing about kids, they think they’re so much cooler than their parents but their generation spend a lot less time chasing and being chased by boys than Denise’s.
Maybe it was that Paisley. Lovely girl. Kinda fat; but nice as pie. Problem was, as far as Denise saw it, she held Nora back. The two girls had known each other since that teacher committed suicide. Mr… no, Denise couldn’t remember the name. But days like that can have an effect on someone. Leaves scars that nobody can see but you only know are there when you rub your hand against it. And they can push people to finding comfort and solace, a safe place. Nora found that in Paisley, and Paisley found that in pie. Now, she wasn’t ever a thin child, but Denise was fairly sure that her eating must have been a defense mechanism. And from the size of her these days, she was still very defensive. She could lose 80lbs and still be less attractive than Nora. And never wearing clothes that fit. The cuts she chose were always wrong for her body shape. But the two of them don’t seem to care about any of this and maybe that’s enough.
The younger daughter, Leanne, was better. She didn’t have a crutch as a sidekick or a sidekick as a crutch. She invited boys over growing up and now she was happily married to one. It’s not perfect. No kids - yet - though Denise suspected that there may be a medical reason. She had overheard them talking about IVF but she’d never say anything like that to her mom. Sounded expensive. But, by and large, things were good for those two. They had their own place, the fiance had a good job, accounting or something boring but well-paid, out in Sioux City. Which reminded Denise, maybe she could stop by and meet up with Leanne after Chase. Unless Chase would invite her for coffee afterwards. He really did have such great hair.
Maybe a bit of make-up. Wear a nice top, something with a more formal fabric but with a flattering cut. Though fewer cuts were flattering these days. The stress of the past six months had seen Denise up to a size 16. She’d never been a size 16 on bottom. The genetic donor to Nora’s good looks and natural shape, Denise had been an attractive woman all her life. She didn’t get approached the way she used to, but she could still turn heads on boys young enough to be her son. Well, until the past year or so, where time and a bit of stress-eating had made their presence known. It wasn’t just Paisley that had found comfort in food, it seems.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
“So, I can drive?”
Nora asked, trying to hide a smug smirk.
They were in his makeshift office by the side of the yard. He was sitting in a chair that squeaked every time he leant over to pull his mug of steaming instant coffee-infused water to lips. There was good coffee near reception but the walk would make him sweaty. So he squeaked the chair and grabbed the mug again and smiled.
“You passed the tests, you got the license. Yeah, you can drive. You know, you actually drive well for a…”
“Girl?”
“...for someone who sits so low in the seat. We’ll get you started tomorrow. Come in at 6 and you’ll be making your first solo truck journey”
Chesney had been smiling all day about this. Truthfully, Chesney smiled all day about most things. It seemed just a sensible place to rest his lips, upturned at either end. But he’d been smiling through this day more than most. The new girl getting her license.
Not in a creepy way. Chesney would never over-step. He just enjoyed seeing people succeed. And yes, she was attractive. If you were into shapely hips, a narrow waist, a substantial ass and notable breasts. And if you were a little less demure than Chesney, maybe the joy wasn’t in seeing her succeed, but seeing that smile, lop-sided as if afraid to commit to a full beam, across her pretty face. But Chesney wasn’t that kinda guy. Did he steal a glace when she jumped up and down in delight, before remembering her affected disinterest, stopping and then sliding her top down? Yeah, he was only human after all. And was he glad that this young girl, one of the best looking women he’d seen in this town, had decided to work under him? Of course he was. And did he spend his days, trying to engrave all the above images in his mind for later, after his wife was asleep and he was alone with his right hand? He couldn’t deny it. But Chesney was mainly just glad that she was succeeding.
“What will I be taking?”
“We’ll start you off easy…”
“I don’t need easy, I can do…”
“Trust me, I know you can. But this is your first, and we can build from there. You remember the site in Milwaukee? It’s just taking some empty pallets over to them. Simple 7 hours each way, but if you have any trouble, just ask for Chesney on the old radio and I’ll sort you out. And well done Nora! Now you start trucking”
Chesney’s smile grew wider as the conversation continued. She feigned disinterest, but he knew otherwise. She was a natural driver. It’s not a tricky job once you get the hang of it, but for some, it can take a while. Nora, on the other hand, picked things up quickly. Maybe she was a trucker in a past life. Chesney didn’t believe in such things, but his mom believed in it adamantly. Of course, she was crazy and would have been locked up if Le Mars had a place for her, but he did sometimes wonder. Either way, he gave it six months before the new girl was talking like one of the guys. And the fact that she was picking it up so quickly, and that a pretty girl was readily complimented on doing just that, meant that she was secretly loving it. Even if she would steadfastly refuse to admit it to a soul.
And Chesney’s smile reached full wattage as she finally turned to leave. Wearing tight jeans, he could watch the rhythmic bounce of her ass. Had it always been that rounded, that filling of the material, Chesney couldn’t remember. And he would have thought that he would remember. But he didn’t complain as he smiled and took photos in his mind for later.

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“Admit it, you enjoy it!” Paisley giggled as Winona Ryder dances in the snow caused from the shavings of Edward Scissorhands’ ice carvings. The curtains were closed and the quilt was up to their chins. Nora’s one chin and Paisley’s two.
“I don’t. It’s just a job” Nora replied defensively. “What about you? Do you enjoy yours?”
“Not really, it’s kinda boring. But there are perks, I guess…” Paisley smiled as she put the spoon of ice cream into her mouth. The second creased itself into clarity as the smile appeared.
“Yeah, but I’m getting those perks too and I get to drive a truck” Nora replied, smiling back as the mocha almond fudge ice cream hit the ridges on the roof of her mouth while she slid the spoon back out.
“So you admit that you do enjoy it!”
“Yeah, whatever”
Nora slid her head to the side, resting it on her smaller friend’s. It felt comfortable there. The whole evening did. This had been the fourth night in a row. Nobody at home seemed to mind. Her mom was preoccupied with financial stuff, as she always was. Her dad was happy and content just sitting at the table and… being dad. So Nora saw no problem with spending more time with Paisley.
“Anyway, I should probably eat less of this stuff?” Nora said, still looking at her friend. They both knew Edward Scissorhands off by heart at this point, and could recite it verbatim should the unlikely circumstance call for it. One of the joys of spending so much time with Paisley.
“Dental work?”
“No, ummm… just should probably lay off the ice cream a bit”
“Why?”
It was mainly for Paisley that Nora was spending more time. Sure, it was especially nice and calming, especially with the test this week and with the house having that uneasy quiet when things aren’t okay but nobody wants to directly address the fact. And she did enjoy spending time with her best friend of ten years. But it was mainly about providing support for Paisley. To be there for her. When Nora had been asked if they would continue hanging out, Nora saw that as a cry for help and insisted on proving to Paisley that she wouldn’t stop being in each others’ company. Also, tomorrow was Nora’s first job and it was an overnight one, so spending the day under Paisley’s quilt for the four days preceding that was the smart thing to do.
“Why do you think?”
“Dental work, I just said…”
“Considering you’re so smart, you’re pretty dumb Nora. I’m… nevermind. But, I should probably save some for tomorrow” Paisley said, putting the spoon in the container and putting it to one side. “But I might not be getting ice cream next time”.
“But it’s the only reason I hang out with you. For cheap ice cream” Nora said, watching Vincent Price on the screen now.
“Don’t worry Nor, I’ll still get you discounted ice cream. One one condition. I’ll do it, but only if you take photos on your journey”
“Of Milwaukee? It’s really nothing special Paiz…”
“Please. For me”
Nora didn’t understand why. Maybe she was a bit jealous. Both girls had applied for both jobs after all. And as much as Nora was initially annoyed about not getting the Wells’ job, maybe Paisley wanted the haulage one. To get the chance to travel. Or maybe Paisley was just trying to keep the pair of them close still, even as they stopped working together, which was a cute thought.
Another option, though it was one that Nora hadn’t thought of, was that Paisley was worried about Nora. Nora feeling left out. Nora being cut out. It didn’t dawn on Nora that this was an option because that wasn’t the dynamic that Nora had in her head. Nora was the older sister, and she looked after Paisley. The idea that Paisley was worrying about Nora didn’t cross her mind.
“Fine, I’ll take photos. For you”
“Thank you! And in return, I’ll let you have the rest of my ice cream” Paisley said, grabbing the container and passing it over to Nora.
This was a change to the normal dynamic. Paisley had never not finished the food in front of her before. All this change happening in both of their lives, but this was unexpected. It couldn’t be that Paisley was, for the first time in her life, watching what she ate? Could it? Could she be thinking about the ‘d’ word? Diet, that is, not the other d’ word. Nora put her spoon into Paisley’s ice cream and eyed her best friend suspiciously. She didn’t know how she felt about all this.
But she found the cold sweetness of the Peanut Butter Chocolate certainly soothed her subconscious about the morning’s trip.
 

Chapter 1
 

“You got that, Nora?”
“Busy”
“You actually busy, or just on your phone?”
“Fine… I’ll get it”
Nora’s shoulders slumped lower than their already deflated default as she pulled herself off the stool in the corner of the store to greet the customer. A stool that was originally for Betty Reynolds when she worked in the store. Before her stroke. She was never very good on her legs was Betty. Nora had since claimed the three-legged thing as her own on quiet days. Which were most days. Thank god for Betty’s stroke.
“Hi, welcome to Mattie’s Fabrics, how can I help you today?” she sing-sang to the customer while not really making much in the way of eye-contact with the customer. The worst thing about working in retail, ask anybody, is the customers. And the pay. And all of it really.
“You got any sheets of linen? I’m sewing a dress together and…”
“Color?”
“Oh… ummm… do you have egg-shell or ivory?” the customer asked. Some old woman, Nora had seen her about from time to time. She’d seen most people around from time to time. After all, the town of Le Mars, Iowa, was only so big and not a million miles away from the middle of nowhere. A few thousand faces stuck on repeat, endlessly recycled on a loop like the stock faces in a computer game. Le Mars. Where dreams go to whither and people go to die. Which sucked for someone like Nora, who was born and raised there.
“Yeah, sure. We call it beige but…”
“Oh no, not beige. What about off-white or…”
“No, you want beige. Beige is off-white. Beige is ivory and beige is egg-shell. And it’s also desert sand and ecru and cosmic latte and tuscan and unbleached silk… it’s all the same color, ma’am. Just with fancier names. A million ways to say beige. So… you good with beige? Ma’am?”
“I’ll… I’ll maybe try elsewhere” the old lady said, scuttling off out the shop. Nora rolled her eyes. There was nowhere else. This was Le Mars. There was only one fabric shop, ailing and bare, and she was working in it. You could try Sioux City but that was half an hour away by car and longer by bus. And all because this customer was too arrogant to deal with a word like beige. Nora didn’t get it. Had she not seen the color of this entire town?
“Did you scare away another customer?”
“Come on! You heard her, Paisley, she was being an ass”
“That’s Mrs. Dover. The pastor’s wife. Leads the choir. If someone was being  ass, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Mrs. Dover. If I tell your mom that you’re the reason that this place is closing down...”
“Whatever… narc” Nora spat her tongue out as she smiled, before climbing back onto her stool and staring at her phone again.
Nora wasn’t the reason that Mattie’s Fabrics was going under. The 21st Century was the reason that Mattie’s Fabrics was going under. The 21st Century with its rise of online shopping and with its steady decline of main streets and anything outside the big coastal cities. The 21st Century with its disdain for those content just to eke out a living. The 21st Century that had no time for self-made items using russet fabrics and cotton fabrics. Nora’s cynicism barely left an imprint, drowned out by the looming shadow of modernity and time.
“Anyway, how is your mom? Still down about it or…?”
“Yeah. Still down about it. Got a house full of people saying nothing. Dad quiet cuz mom’s quiet. Leanne’s quiet cuz dad’s quiet. And I’m quiet cuz... I hate it there” Nora grumbled, while typing some comment to a Facebook post that she didn’t care about. Her sister posting about sports that she didn’t watch but her fiance did so she felt she’d best keep up experiences. Her boss from her first job complaining about Hilary Clinton’s involvement in a prostitution ring. Jasmine from across the road showing pictures of her youngest’s first steps. Though, given that she’d had five kids already, surely the novelty should have worn off by now? Nora scrolled through it all, the blue and white just giving her eyes something to do rather than explicitly entertain her.
“Hey… you okay? It must be tough for you, Nor”
She walked up to her and put an arm around Nora’s shoulder in sympathy, leaning their heads against one another like they were shaped specially for that purpose. Both of them just stayed in silence for a bit. It’s not like the place was busy.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. But Paisley… thanks”
Nora smiled at Paisley kindly, and their eyes lingered against one another for another few moments.
“Hey, you’re my best friend, and also my only friend but that’s not important, and I’ll do anything for you. Including the sex” Paisley smirked, and Nora pulled away with a giggle.
“You are gross”
“I just wanna do the sex with you”
“Stop it!”
“You know I wanna have the sex with you”
“Stop calling it ‘the sex’. And also stop talking about us having sex. Both of those things”
“How about a 69?”
“That… that’s still sex”
“A 96?”
“That’s the same thing! Just a made up name for the same thing!”
“Like calling egg-white beige?”
“Exactly like calling egg-white beige!”

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Nora and Paisley had been friends since the days of Le Mars Community Middle School, and through to Le Mars Community High School. Ever since Mr Durant had that emotional breakdown that everyone still talks about and the police had to be called, and Nora had to console a crying Paisley in the corner of Miss Derby’s classroom. Or was it Mr Coffrey’s classroom back then? Either way, Paisley was a year younger and half a foot shorter, but they bonded that day, possibly over the shared trauma, and just never got around to un-bonding. Who else was there to bond with around these parts? Jasmine and her never-ending procession of children? No thank you.
So Nora was like an older sister to Paisley, and Paisley was the younger sister to Nora. The Samwys to her Frodo, the Samwell to her Job Snow. Nora even got the girl that job at her mom’s store. It was just the way of things, and nobody paid it much thought. And Paisley was useful to have around. Her parents could never complain about their daughter for anything, because everything that Nora was bad at, Paisley was worse. Like a wingwoman, but for nagging parents. It wasn’t the reason that Nora liked Paisley, but it wasn’t a bad side-effect.
They were now in their mid-20s and their friendship was the best thing about every day for Nora. In fact, the only good thing. Work was a soul-sapping exercise - she hated the busy days because they were busy and she hated the quiet days because they weren’t. Worse still, work was only a soul-sapping exercise in the short term. Her mom was having to close the store at the end of the month. It was either that or lose the house. So the store went, and so did 30 years of hard work and pride and being integral to the community. Nobody bought raw materials any more, every piece of clothing always came ready-made. Why put in the effort, when somebody else would do it for you? The residents of Le Mars weren’t fans of SE Asian sweatshops exactly, but they didn’t mind the convenience, if they were being honest. The only generation that believed in self-repair and sewing and such things had hands too arthritic to carry it out. The fad of young people taking up such hobbies as sewing and knitting only applied to the cities, where the hipsters and all their various beard oils were, a million miles away.
Neither Paisley nor Nora knew what to do after the place closed. They’d worked there since high school, sitting around and occasionally ushering someone towards the satin section. Without the place, there weren’t a whole heap of options without a hefty commute. The two biggest employers in town were Wells’ Ice Cream Manufacturing Plant, and Western Haulage. Both were mainstays of the town. Molly’s mom worked at Wells’, and both Terri and Terry had dads’ work for Western Haulage. Years ago, the town’s mayor had dubbed Le Mars “The Ice Cream Capital of the World”. It’s true, look it up. Sure, this is despite Napoli existing. And sure, there was only a single ice cream plant. But the mayor’s self-anointing was more wishful thinking than reality, and it looked good on the signs. There had been talk for years about a second factory. It was the sort of thing politicians would promise on the campaign trail near election time and then not deliver so that they could promise it again at the next election. Iowa got a lot of those.  But that only really left Wells’, dairy farm work or the trucking company.
Both girls applied for jobs at both places, sending a resume listing a thin smattering of achievements - Mattie’s Fabrics, a high school diploma, JV softball and the 4-H Club - but both girls secretly hoped for neither job. They probably would recognise half the people there - didn’t Tina go back to working at the factory after her family farm went under? - but they would be the people who didn’t make it. Who got left behind in place and time, in Le Mars, Iowa. A factory drone sounded more soul-sapping than Mattie’s Fabrics, and life as a trucker was not how they’d hoped to spend their days either. But it was what it was.
A third option was Melville. Or so the two girls liked to joke. He was in the same year at High School as Nora and had liked her ever since. Nora wasn’t the school’s queen bee or anything, but she had always been easy to fall for. Even 10 years later. She’d always attracted attention, never really seeking it but never really minding it either. Her 5’7” made her tall, but not in a particularly noticeable way. Her hair, a side-parted brown bob that was once longer, was again trendy without setting the world alight. Her figure, 150lbs spread evenly and without any underlying agenda, had curves to keep the eyes of passers-by occupied without ever being enough to seem dramatic. And her smile was friendly and warm, without flaw but without sheen. It all left her exactly as she wanted to be. Attractive, but without being the talk of the town.
Melville, on the other hand, was talk of the town. Not for his looks, mind you. Unfortunately for him, he was cursed with a face that looked hand-drawn by a toddler and a level of asymmetry that challenged the most seasoned geometrist. Nor was it for his character, an unassuming but likeable sort as most with Picasso-esque faces so often tend to be. No, the most notable fact about Melville was that time he won the state lottery, making him technically a millionaire, though $1.2 million (after taxes) was realistically enough to live no more lavishly than a schoolteacher when collected over a lifetime. But his millionaire status made him a interesting “plan B” for Nora, even if he did look like he was designed in the dark.
The bitter irony was that it was Melville and Paisley that had been friends back at school. They hung out in the emo corner, listening to Fall Out Boy and Paisley even tried dying her black once but it made her scalp itch so badly that it was never attempted nor spoked of again. Paisley wasn’t emo in personality, and she had long behind left the dark eye make-up, but Nora had known even then why Paisley wore only the blackest blacks. Because Paisley, even back then, was a chunky kid, and emo was just a place that ugly kids and chubby kids hung out. Nowadays, they just lived in Le Mars for that.

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“Someone’s got the holler tail” Nora’s dad said, not even looking up from the business section of the local paper. He only really cared for the sports pages, truth be known, but he read the whole thing so as to get his money’s worth.
“No, I don’t” Nora grumbled, grabbing a slice of toast as she walked towards the door.
“Sure sounds that way”
Nora sighed. She hated it when she was accused of being in a bad mood. How do you respond? You say ‘no’, and it sounds argumentative, proving their point. But if you say ‘yes’, then you are agreeing with their point. There was no answer to the question that wouldn’t vindicate her dad’s accusation. And, to make matters worse, he was right. She was in a foul mood.
“I have a job interview…” Nora admitted.
“Well, that’s the best bad news I’ve ever heard!” he said, finally looking up.
“...to drive trucks. Long-haul trucking. Can you imagine? Me, doing that? Smelling of diesel? Even the job at Well’s Ice Cream plant sounded better than that. Plus, Paisley got a job at Wells’, they offered it to her today. I don’t know why they would hire her and not me. No offense to Paisley…”
Her dad had been the one who had suggested applying to Western. He knew a guy, he said, which came as a shock to nobody since what middle-aged man from Le Mars, Iowa -did not know a guy at Western Haulage. Back when he was at Le Mars Community High School, several from his class ended up there. And then there was John, one of his Friday night bowling buddies, though they’d stopped hanging out of late. John hasn’t been the same since his wife had that stroke. He really should check in on him, make sure he’s doing okay. Maybe invite him round to watch football. Or go over there, and watch the game with John’s surround-sound system. Good karma, good football and surround-sound? There were worse ways of spending an evening.
“I don’t know. One look at your resume and I’d have done the same. Only one job, and at the place owned by your mom? Yeah, I’d have taken one look and thought ‘nepotism’” Her dad told her, before pushing his eyes back down. The horoscope section. The section where getting your moneys-worth out of a paper was hardest. He never believed such things. But then again, he never believed in driverless cars and apparently they were testing them now so maybe he should keep an open mind. And, as an Aquarius, he was the most open-minded star sign after all.
“Thanks dad” Nora rolled her eyes.
“Not a criticism. Just an observation. I know how these people work. How they think. And they’d look at you and see a no-hoper with a CV” he said, sipping his morning coffee. His wife glared at him. “But, of course, it’s not true and they don’t know what a wonderful woman they’re missing out on”.
“Yeah, that was too little too late dad. Anyway, I should probably be leaving. Gonna ask Paisley on interviewing tips, since I clearly suck and she’s clearly better than me” Nora grumbled.
“You don’t need any tips honey, I’m sure you’re wonderful. But make sure you’re back by 7… your uncle’s coming over for dinner” her mom added, as she applied make-up. Another meeting with the bank manager down in Sioux City. Not only did they have to take her business from her, they also needed thousands of mind-numbing meetings to do it.
“The creepy uncle? Or the really creepy uncle?”
“Don’t call them that. Your Uncle Johnny’s not too bad, as long as we’re in the room. But it’s Alan this time, so maybe get back a bit earlier than 7 so you can change into something more conservative. Anyway, I have to scoot off but I’ll catch you two later. And when’s your interview Nora?”
“Wednesday… if I go”
“Oh don’t be silly honey. It’ll be fine. If it’s not meant to be, you won’t get it. And if it is, you will. And doesn’t that girl from your year drive trucks? The one with the braces?” her mom said as she headed to the door.
“Marie-anne hasn’t worn braces in ten years. And she delivers things to people who shop online. It’s a bit different from long-distance trucking. And she was in Leanne’s year, not mine. But apart from that, you got it in one, mom!” Nora said, but her mom was already out the door.
“And you will turn up at that interview Nora. Otherwise everyone in town will think of you as the kind of woman who doesn’t turn up to interviews and you don’t want that, do you? And then nobody will hire you. Trust me, I know how these people think” her dad continued, eyes focused as he finally reached the sports section. At last, where the actual good stuff was. And it was just as well, because Nora too had left for whatever it was she had said she was planning on doing. Leaving him in peace with the best section of the paper. Sometimes, you gotta enjoy the good stuff when it hits.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

“I’m so sorry Nora, I honestly thought they’d give you the job” Paisley said as Nora sat herself back down on her usual stool in Mattie’s Fabrics for the last time. It was the last day of trading, the closing down sale had proven to be enough of a hit that they were actually closing three days earlier than planned. Which was good? Or bad? It was hard to tell really.
“Oh no, they offered me the job. It’s mine if I want it. I’m just pissed cuz it’s… like, me, driving a truck? Why couldn’t I work with you? I’d be so good at… doing whatever it is you’re gonna do. Making ice cream?” Nora scrunched her face up, not really remembering.
“You landed a decent job in this town and you’re still being a little bitch about it? Nor, you are ridiculous at times!” Paisley threw one of the biros from behind the desk at her friend, who flinched to such an extent that she nearly toppled.
“Trucking, though?”
“Sounds bad-ass if you ask me. No cars on the road getting in your way in a truck. Plus, you’d get to travel. Sorta. Get outta this town. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”
“Yeah. I guess” Nora’s shoulders slumped, eyes on her phone again. Jasmine was on her Facebook feed, talking about maybe trying for another kid. Wasn’t six enough? Everyone in the comments was really supportive but they all must have been thinking that.
And was it what she wanted? Driving a truck and getting outta Le Mars? It wasn’t how she’d always seen things going. She didn’t think it was beneath her, but… well, she did think it was beneath her, but didn’t want to be a bitch about it so she stuffed that thought to the back of her head. And maybe Paisley was right? Travelling sounded good. Showing the guys that she could do it just as well as they could, despite being a proud 27 year old woman and not a, old dad-bodded 45 year old man who racks up a DUI every Christmas, making him late to pick up the kids. 27 years old, meant she was young still, she was pretty sure. But was she just the lower end of middle-aged? Her parents kept hassling her over settling down with somebody - “didn’t that Melville like you? He’s not the best looking but he’d keep you right” - and if it wasn’t 27, then when was it? 28? 30? So many questions in Nora’s head, and not really the desire to answer them.
“Plus, I bet you get paid well. Ronnie from my year…”
“One of the emo ones?”
“Yeah, he had that cheap leather coat that he thought made him look cool but everyone totally made fun of him because of it… well, he drives. Not for Western Haulage, he moved outta town a few years back. But he’s got a nice house from the looks of the pictures on Facebook…”
“I know, Paiz. I know. It’s just… remember when we were growing up and we were gonna leave this place and go meet up with your cousin out in Cedar Falls and… I dunno… it was different working for my mom cuz it always felt temporary. Just a way to hang out and make money while I decide what to do. But this job, driving a truck, it’ll… I worry that it’s like I’ll be deciding ‘this is who I am now’. And that person will be someone who drives trucks and this just isn’t how I pictured things going when we talked about leaving for Cedar Rapids…”
“You are weirdly philosophical at times Nor. You think about things way too much”
Unbeknownst to Paisley, this was something that Nora was aware of. In fact, this was something that Nora thought about way too much, before starting to think about how she was thinking too much about how she was thinking too much. It wasn’t deliberate or premeditated. Her mind just took the scenic route to any conclusion, often stopping to enjoy the scenery before getting there. Or maybe she was just overthinking things when she reached that conclusion.
Paisley, Nora had long concluded, was never partial to such ruminatory detours. She never really spent much time thinking about how much time she spent thinking about things, but it is safe to say that, were she to do so, then the conclusion would be that she spent very little time thinking about such things. It wasn’t that she was dumb, it’s just that her eyes focused on the things in front of her, and her mind did the same.
Nora never thought this as a sign that Paisley was lesser or not as smart. In some ways, it seemed a virtue, to go along in the direction that life pulled her without stopping to ponder why and whether there. On the other hand, Nora was also self-aware enough to know that she was lying to herself when she thought this, and that her superior self-awareness was a reason why she did think she was better than Paisley. But everyone did that, didn’t they? Everyone thought that they were smarter than everyone. What’s the alternative? Thinking other people are right, and you are wrong? If you thought that, if you thought you were wrong, then why were you thinking it? Surely just think the thing that you think is right, instead?
“I mean… is working in QC at Wells’ what you always thought you’d be doing?” Nora retorted, now looking at pictures of an old flame with a new partner who had the same haircut that she did. They must have a type.
“So you do know what I do at Well’s?”
“Yeah, I guess. Just don’t tell anyone. I wanna come across as cool and disinterested” Nora smirked as she said it, desperately looking at her screen so she didn’t fully crack into a smile. “Anyway, at least you get to eat ice cream for a living”.
“Well… actually… QC don’t get to eat the ice cream”
Nora looked up at this.
“What the fuck? Why not?”
“It’s just testing it. I just do the visual checks on deliveries from other suppliers. No samples though. Oh my god! I just thought, you might be one of the people who makes deliveries to us? I might have to check your stock!” Paisley beamed.
“Does everything you say have to sound like an innuendo? People are gonna think you’re into me” Nora’s attention was back on her phone.
“Me checking your stock is not an innuendo. Says more about you than it does about me that your brain went there”
“No it doesn’t!”
“You’re seriously defensive every time I mention we should be gay lovers?”
“I’m not! Oh fuck… you just did what my dad does!”
“Your dad thinks we should be gay lovers?”
“No, he… always sets me up by saying I’m argumentative or defensive and if I say ‘no’ it just proves his…” Nora looked up, to see Paisley smirking at her. Nora’s cheeks were red and she realised that she actually was getting worked up this time. Maybe Nora wasn’t as self-aware as she thought. Maybe Paisley was more self-aware than she thought. But here Nora was again, arguing that she wasn’t arguing.
But this was Paisley all over. The little sister she never had. Or she would have been, if Leanne wasn’t the little sister that she did have. Paisley was not as smart or reflective, not as tall nor as pretty, not as old, not as wise. But she was loyal and funny and breezy and cute. 5ft1 and still the same amount of soft chunkiness that she’d possessed since the days of ditching math to avoid Mrs Tyler and her missing front tooth. Paisley had chipmunk cheeks and a muffintop regardless of what she chose to wear. And she had long hair that was brown like Nora. But not brown like Nora because Nora’s was chestnut and mahogany, while Paisley’s was more dead moss. But cute though, although Nora didn’t possess enough self-awareness over the extent that she felt that way.
“One good thing about working at Wells’... I get employee discount” Paisley smiled, and those chipmunk cheeks reemerged. “So you know what that means?”
“That purchases made by employees are at a price reduced by a certain fraction?”
“It means that, after this shift, we should totally get ice cream”
 

Chapter 2
 
“So, you have your CLP come through?”
It was late May and it was warm. Clouds were blocking the sun out but keeping the heat in. Clouds of varying shades of beige. Some were off-white and some were ivory, some were egg-shell and some were desert sand, some were ecru and some were cosmic latte, some were tuscan and some were unbleached silk. And all of them looked like they were carrying water, but had no intention of releasing it onto the small town of Le Mars. Which left things as they were: warm with a thick humidity.
His name was Chesney and he was junior manager at the Western Haulage’s depot. Chesney. His name was Chesney. Like Kenny Chesney. Supposedly. His hair was long and greasy, with wirey gray woven between his natural brown hues. He looked as though he’d enjoyed his life over the years. A healthy gut, ruddy cheeks, and a smile that he was rarely without.
“Yeah, here it is” Nora handed him the paperwork.
“And regular driver’s license?”
Nora handed that over too.
“No smile?” Chesney said, looking at the photo.
“It’s a driving license. You’re not supposed to smile”
“I always smile. You point a camera at Chesney, and Chesney’s gonna smile” Chesney smiled. Despite the absence of any nearby cameras. He then returned to his spiel. “So, I’m CDL qualified, so I have to sit with you on journeys until you pass your test. You can only take your test after 14 days of possessing your CLP. The skills test will consist of three parts: the road test, the vehicle inspection test and… I always forget the other one. I don’t remember what it is, but...it's important.  All three are vital. Once you pass your tests, you can start trucking for real. So, uh, welcome to Western Haulage”.
Nora smiled back, but her heart wasn’t in it. It wouldn’t have been in it on a day of radiant sunshine. But this was Iowa. It was somehow gray and warm. The kind that makes you sweat but not get a tan. Le Mars, Iowa in a nutshell.
Nora was hugging herself despite being warm. She hadn’t helped herself with how she’d dressed. She was no fashionista, but she did have a mom who used to run a fabrics store, so she figured she knew a thing or two about clothing. However, she’d not exactly known what to wear for work. It was work, but there was no uniform. It was a job, but the company was quite casual and informal. She’d ended with a jacket that looked good without looking like she’d put in effort. Though she was regretting the extra layer in the warm conditions.
“And what will I be driving?”
Chesney’s face would have lit up at that question, had the 40 year old man not stopped smiling the entire time he had been talking to her.
“You’ll be driving Sweet Iowa herself”
Great, Nora thought. The trucks have names. And worse still. Hers was called Sweet Iowa. When getting away from Iowa was supposed to be one of the few perks of the job.
“Hey, don’t look like that. She’s great for starters. Smaller? Yes. And forgiving for the driver, but great in tough conditions. It could be worse. Mine? Old Chesney here has to do battle with big old Champs Elias and it’s been a tough old time. Had to have its gearbox replaced three times the past 5 years”
He showed Nora a photo of a large, articulated truck that, as far as she could tell, looked just like every other one she had ever seen. Underneath the picture were the words Champs Elysees, though Nora thought better of correcting his pronunciation. He seemed so smiley after all.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
“So, what was driving it like?”. They were under the bed covers together watching Heathers for about the 8th time. It was Paisley’s favourite and Nora didn’t mind. There were worse films. Like Duel, for example, which is how her nightmares had been recently.
“I dunno. Complicated, I guess. I dunno, it feels less like driving a car and more like flying a plane. On the ground. I dunno, just complicated” Nora said as she put her spoon into her mouth as she watched Heather Duke make herself puke and being mocked for it by Heather Chandler. Bulimia always looked unpleasant. Nora had known a few girls from school who’d had dalliances with eating disorders, but no one who had committed to them. Well, not that they knew of. Her high school was far too boring for that. Maybe Paisley had tried it? How do you ask a question like that though? Best not to, Nora reasoned.
“Do you have to drive stick?”
“Yeah, split shift 13 speed transmission. Like I say, complicated” Nora said, twisting her head to see Paisley putting a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “How’s yours?”
“Ice cream? Same as always: really good. Like, all ice cream is good ice cream. Apart from vanilla cuz that literally has no flavor. Hey, you wanna try some? And I’ll take some of your Peanut Butter Fudge?”
They swapped spoons to enjoy each other’s Well’s ice cream and Paisley leaned into her best friend a little closer. This had been the third time that Nora had found herself in Paisley’s bed this week, eating ice cream and watching the earlier parts of Winona’s filmography. No paycheck yet, that Well’s discount was coming in useful for the ice cream, and Netflix was sorting out the movies. Though the absence of Beetlejuice in Netflix’s back catalog was noted.
“Nor…”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks”
Nora straightened up and looked at her friend at her with confusion.
Both Nora and Paisley were in nighties. It had been a custom since they first became friends. They would huddle together and giggle mischievously. Nora realised that, as the older friend, she probably needed to comfort Paisley. After the incident at the school with Mr Durant, who wouldn’t need it? So it became a thing. A decade of nighties and Heathers and under the covers giggling. And, recently, Wells ice cream.
And somehow it felt no different, a decade later. Paisley’s parents didn’t seem to mind because, well, you know how Paisley’s parents are. And Paisley didn’t mind, there was a security and comfort to the routine of it, two things that Paisley had a huge amount of time for. And Nora didn’t mind. Nora didn’t mind one bit.
“What for?”
“Just… hanging. I dunno, I just… I had this idea that we wouldn’t hang out as much. Now we aren’t working together any more” Paisley looked up sympathetically at Nora, whose eyebrows flinched at the honesty.
“Yeah, well I was planning on hanging out with all my old trucker buddies but they cancelled on me so…” Nora flashed a smile while her heart beat a little faster.
“You won’t ditch me, will you though? Like, when you get your proper licence and go explore the wild, blue yonder and everything?”
“Paisley… you are the most important person in my life and I will never - NEVER - ditch you like that. I promise” Nora said, looking into her friend’s eyes. Not accidentally. But deliberately meeting them and refusing to let go. Hang onto them, Nora. And don’t let go.
“Oh my god, I wish we really were lesbians. You’d make such a great girlfriend. Just think of the movies we could watch together then” Paisley said sweetly.
Nora didn’t answer. She just let her eyes return to the screen. Christian Slater was there looking smug. Nora never really understood his appeal in this movie. She never understood the appeal of Christian Slater at all, really.

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Denise was sitting in her chair, looking at paperwork. Another meeting in Sioux City with the handsome man from the bank, and hopefully that would be the end of it. Unless, of course, the handsome man would invite her for coffee. No, that would be inappropriate for a married woman. Even if it was just coffee. Even if he was very handsome. And had really great hair.
His name was Chase. He looked like a Chase. Chases had hefty jaw lines and a lot of hair product in their really great hair. She figured it was just customer service, being handsome and flirtatious. Trying to reel her in or take out a loan or something. Maybe, if you do a job like that for long enough, you forget to switch it off. Maybe he just doesn’t know how not to flirt. But Chase flirting with her made her wonder if she should dust off the cobwebs and flirt back. After all, he was very handsome. And had really great hair.
It also helped, because it took her mind off things. Financial things. How-are-we-going-to-afford-to-pay-the-bills things. Things that she would find herself thinking about in the times when she shouldn’t be thinking about anything. Her mind wandered like that. The store closure had hit them hard, and Darren’s medical bills made things difficult financially. They’d sold the store building to pay off a chunk of it, but it wasn’t worth much any more, making the store closure all the more difficult. It was all difficult, honestly.
And she knew he wasn’t okay. He never said he wasn’t, but after 29 years of marriage, you don’t really need to. He was quieter these days. Always reading the newspaper or listening to the radio. But the socializing had slowly evaporated over time. Should she push him? Or was that controlling? It was hard not to be controlling with someone who would sit down in the kitchen in the morning and not get up until the evening. It’s not like he could go bowling anymore. She knew it was difficult for him since the amputation but life was always difficult. And it was tiring, walking for two all the time.
For three, if she was being honest. Because there was also her eldest: Nora. The girl was just driftwood, no drive. Honestly, for her, the store closing down was probably the best thing for her. Get her out of her comfort zone. She could have been a doctor, Nora. Always smart enough. She had Denise’s head for numbers and Darren’s ability to make things look easy. But she didn’t want to be a doctor, she didn’t want to even go to college, because she was afraid of not being the smartest in the room. The same way that when she and her friend had that chance to go down to Cedar Rapids, she turned it down. She always acts like she’s too good for Le Mars, Iowa, but that’s how she likes it. She’s afraid of being somewhere she isn’t too good. Needs to be a big fish in a small pond. So, hopefully the job at Western Haulage will help her find her confidence.
And maybe find a man. Because the clock’s ticking and young kids these days don’t appreciate such things, not like Denise’s generation did. Nora was always pretty enough. Effortlessly pretty. Not like some of them these days, always at the gym, spending a week’s wages on a shopping spree in Sioux City. No, Nora liked to pretend she paid her appearance no mind. She was vain, she’d struggle to walk past a mirror without smiling at it, but she never worked out for fear of admitting she was vain. Curvy, cute and self-consciously casual. Most men in town would be punching above their weight with Nora. But nothing ever. Never even brought a boy home. That’s the thing about kids, they think they’re so much cooler than their parents but their generation spend a lot less time chasing and being chased by boys than Denise’s.
Maybe it was that Paisley. Lovely girl. Kinda fat; but nice as pie. Problem was, as far as Denise saw it, she held Nora back. The two girls had known each other since that teacher committed suicide. Mr… no, Denise couldn’t remember the name. But days like that can have an effect on someone. Leaves scars that nobody can see but you only know are there when you rub your hand against it. And they can push people to finding comfort and solace, a safe place. Nora found that in Paisley, and Paisley found that in pie. Now, she wasn’t ever a thin child, but Denise was fairly sure that her eating must have been a defense mechanism. And from the size of her these days, she was still very defensive. She could lose 80lbs and still be less attractive than Nora. And never wearing clothes that fit. The cuts she chose were always wrong for her body shape. But the two of them don’t seem to care about any of this and maybe that’s enough.
The younger daughter, Leanne, was better. She didn’t have a crutch as a sidekick or a sidekick as a crutch. She invited boys over growing up and now she was happily married to one. It’s not perfect. No kids - yet - though Denise suspected that there may be a medical reason. She had overheard them talking about IVF but she’d never say anything like that to her mom. Sounded expensive. But, by and large, things were good for those two. They had their own place, the fiance had a good job, accounting or something boring but well-paid, out in Sioux City. Which reminded Denise, maybe she could stop by and meet up with Leanne after Chase. Unless Chase would invite her for coffee afterwards. He really did have such great hair.
Maybe a bit of make-up. Wear a nice top, something with a more formal fabric but with a flattering cut. Though fewer cuts were flattering these days. The stress of the past six months had seen Denise up to a size 16. She’d never been a size 16 on bottom. The genetic donor to Nora’s good looks and natural shape, Denise had been an attractive woman all her life. She didn’t get approached the way she used to, but she could still turn heads on boys young enough to be her son. Well, until the past year or so, where time and a bit of stress-eating had made their presence known. It wasn’t just Paisley that had found comfort in food, it seems.

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“So, I can drive?”
Nora asked, trying to hide a smug smirk.
They were in his makeshift office by the side of the yard. He was sitting in a chair that squeaked every time he leant over to pull his mug of steaming instant coffee-infused water to lips. There was good coffee near reception but the walk would make him sweaty. So he squeaked the chair and grabbed the mug again and smiled.
“You passed the tests, you got the license. Yeah, you can drive. You know, you actually drive well for a…”
“Girl?”
“...for someone who sits so low in the seat. We’ll get you started tomorrow. Come in at 6 and you’ll be making your first solo truck journey”
Chesney had been smiling all day about this. Truthfully, Chesney smiled all day about most things. It seemed just a sensible place to rest his lips, upturned at either end. But he’d been smiling through this day more than most. The new girl getting her license.
Not in a creepy way. Chesney would never over-step. He just enjoyed seeing people succeed. And yes, she was attractive. If you were into shapely hips, a narrow waist, a substantial ass and notable breasts. And if you were a little less demure than Chesney, maybe the joy wasn’t in seeing her succeed, but seeing that smile, lop-sided as if afraid to commit to a full beam, across her pretty face. But Chesney wasn’t that kinda guy. Did he steal a glace when she jumped up and down in delight, before remembering her affected disinterest, stopping and then sliding her top down? Yeah, he was only human after all. And was he glad that this young girl, one of the best looking women he’d seen in this town, had decided to work under him? Of course he was. And did he spend his days, trying to engrave all the above images in his mind for later, after his wife was asleep and he was alone with his right hand? He couldn’t deny it. But Chesney was mainly just glad that she was succeeding.
“What will I be taking?”
“We’ll start you off easy…”
“I don’t need easy, I can do…”
“Trust me, I know you can. But this is your first, and we can build from there. You remember the site in Milwaukee? It’s just taking some empty pallets over to them. Simple 7 hours each way, but if you have any trouble, just ask for Chesney on the old radio and I’ll sort you out. And well done Nora! Now you start trucking”
Chesney’s smile grew wider as the conversation continued. She feigned disinterest, but he knew otherwise. She was a natural driver. It’s not a tricky job once you get the hang of it, but for some, it can take a while. Nora, on the other hand, picked things up quickly. Maybe she was a trucker in a past life. Chesney didn’t believe in such things, but his mom believed in it adamantly. Of course, she was crazy and would have been locked up if Le Mars had a place for her, but he did sometimes wonder. Either way, he gave it six months before the new girl was talking like one of the guys. And the fact that she was picking it up so quickly, and that a pretty girl was readily complimented on doing just that, meant that she was secretly loving it. Even if she would steadfastly refuse to admit it to a soul.
And Chesney’s smile reached full wattage as she finally turned to leave. Wearing tight jeans, he could watch the rhythmic bounce of her ass. Had it always been that rounded, that filling of the material, Chesney couldn’t remember. And he would have thought that he would remember. But he didn’t complain as he smiled and took photos in his mind for later.

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“Admit it, you enjoy it!” Paisley giggled as Winona Ryder dances in the snow caused from the shavings of Edward Scissorhands’ ice carvings. The curtains were closed and the quilt was up to their chins. Nora’s one chin and Paisley’s two.
“I don’t. It’s just a job” Nora replied defensively. “What about you? Do you enjoy yours?”
“Not really, it’s kinda boring. But there are perks, I guess…” Paisley smiled as she put the spoon of ice cream into her mouth. The second creased itself into clarity as the smile appeared.
“Yeah, but I’m getting those perks too and I get to drive a truck” Nora replied, smiling back as the mocha almond fudge ice cream hit the ridges on the roof of her mouth while she slid the spoon back out.
“So you admit that you do enjoy it!”
“Yeah, whatever”
Nora slid her head to the side, resting it on her smaller friend’s. It felt comfortable there. The whole evening did. This had been the fourth night in a row. Nobody at home seemed to mind. Her mom was preoccupied with financial stuff, as she always was. Her dad was happy and content just sitting at the table and… being dad. So Nora saw no problem with spending more time with Paisley.
“Anyway, I should probably eat less of this stuff?” Nora said, still looking at her friend. They both knew Edward Scissorhands off by heart at this point, and could recite it verbatim should the unlikely circumstance call for it. One of the joys of spending so much time with Paisley.
“Dental work?”
“No, ummm… just should probably lay off the ice cream a bit”
“Why?”
It was mainly for Paisley that Nora was spending more time. Sure, it was especially nice and calming, especially with the test this week and with the house having that uneasy quiet when things aren’t okay but nobody wants to directly address the fact. And she did enjoy spending time with her best friend of ten years. But it was mainly about providing support for Paisley. To be there for her. When Nora had been asked if they would continue hanging out, Nora saw that as a cry for help and insisted on proving to Paisley that she wouldn’t stop being in each others’ company. Also, tomorrow was Nora’s first job and it was an overnight one, so spending the day under Paisley’s quilt for the four days preceding that was the smart thing to do.
“Why do you think?”
“Dental work, I just said…”
“Considering you’re so smart, you’re pretty dumb Nora. I’m… nevermind. But, I should probably save some for tomorrow” Paisley said, putting the spoon in the container and putting it to one side. “But I might not be getting ice cream next time”.
“But it’s the only reason I hang out with you. For cheap ice cream” Nora said, watching Vincent Price on the screen now.
“Don’t worry Nor, I’ll still get you discounted ice cream. One one condition. I’ll do it, but only if you take photos on your journey”
“Of Milwaukee? It’s really nothing special Paiz…”
“Please. For me”
Nora didn’t understand why. Maybe she was a bit jealous. Both girls had applied for both jobs after all. And as much as Nora was initially annoyed about not getting the Wells’ job, maybe Paisley wanted the haulage one. To get the chance to travel. Or maybe Paisley was just trying to keep the pair of them close still, even as they stopped working together, which was a cute thought.
Another option, though it was one that Nora hadn’t thought of, was that Paisley was worried about Nora. Nora feeling left out. Nora being cut out. It didn’t dawn on Nora that this was an option because that wasn’t the dynamic that Nora had in her head. Nora was the older sister, and she looked after Paisley. The idea that Paisley was worrying about Nora didn’t cross her mind.
“Fine, I’ll take photos. For you”
“Thank you! And in return, I’ll let you have the rest of my ice cream” Paisley said, grabbing the container and passing it over to Nora.
This was a change to the normal dynamic. Paisley had never not finished the food in front of her before. All this change happening in both of their lives, but this was unexpected. It couldn’t be that Paisley was, for the first time in her life, watching what she ate? Could it? Could she be thinking about the ‘d’ word? Diet, that is, not the other d’ word. Nora put her spoon into Paisley’s ice cream and eyed her best friend suspiciously. She didn’t know how she felt about all this.
But she found the cold sweetness of the Peanut Butter Chocolate certainly soothed her subconscious about the morning’s trip.
 

Chapter 2
 
“So, you have your CLP come through?”
It was late May and it was warm. Clouds were blocking the sun out but keeping the heat in. Clouds of varying shades of beige. Some were off-white and some were ivory, some were egg-shell and some were desert sand, some were ecru and some were cosmic latte, some were tuscan and some were unbleached silk. And all of them looked like they were carrying water, but had no intention of releasing it onto the small town of Le Mars. Which left things as they were: warm with a thick humidity.
His name was Chesney and he was junior manager at the Western Haulage’s depot. Chesney. His name was Chesney. Like Kenny Chesney. Supposedly. His hair was long and greasy, with wirey gray woven between his natural brown hues. He looked as though he’d enjoyed his life over the years. A healthy gut, ruddy cheeks, and a smile that he was rarely without.
“Yeah, here it is” Nora handed him the paperwork.
“And regular driver’s license?”
Nora handed that over too.
“No smile?” Chesney said, looking at the photo.
“It’s a driving license. You’re not supposed to smile”
“I always smile. You point a camera at Chesney, and Chesney’s gonna smile” Chesney smiled. Despite the absence of any nearby cameras. He then returned to his spiel. “So, I’m CDL qualified, so I have to sit with you on journeys until you pass your test. You can only take your test after 14 days of possessing your CLP. The skills test will consist of three parts: the road test, the vehicle inspection test and… I always forget the other one. I don’t remember what it is, but...it's important.  All three are vital. Once you pass your tests, you can start trucking for real. So, uh, welcome to Western Haulage”.
Nora smiled back, but her heart wasn’t in it. It wouldn’t have been in it on a day of radiant sunshine. But this was Iowa. It was somehow gray and warm. The kind that makes you sweat but not get a tan. Le Mars, Iowa in a nutshell.
Nora was hugging herself despite being warm. She hadn’t helped herself with how she’d dressed. She was no fashionista, but she did have a mom who used to run a fabrics store, so she figured she knew a thing or two about clothing. However, she’d not exactly known what to wear for work. It was work, but there was no uniform. It was a job, but the company was quite casual and informal. She’d ended with a jacket that looked good without looking like she’d put in effort. Though she was regretting the extra layer in the warm conditions.
“And what will I be driving?”
Chesney’s face would have lit up at that question, had the 40 year old man not stopped smiling the entire time he had been talking to her.
“You’ll be driving Sweet Iowa herself”
Great, Nora thought. The trucks have names. And worse still. Hers was called Sweet Iowa. When getting away from Iowa was supposed to be one of the few perks of the job.
“Hey, don’t look like that. She’s great for starters. Smaller? Yes. And forgiving for the driver, but great in tough conditions. It could be worse. Mine? Old Chesney here has to do battle with big old Champs Elias and it’s been a tough old time. Had to have its gearbox replaced three times the past 5 years”
He showed Nora a photo of a large, articulated truck that, as far as she could tell, looked just like every other one she had ever seen. Underneath the picture were the words Champs Elysees, though Nora thought better of correcting his pronunciation. He seemed so smiley after all.
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“So, what was driving it like?”. They were under the bed covers together watching Heathers for about the 8th time. It was Paisley’s favourite and Nora didn’t mind. There were worse films. Like Duel, for example, which is how her nightmares had been recently.
“I dunno. Complicated, I guess. I dunno, it feels less like driving a car and more like flying a plane. On the ground. I dunno, just complicated” Nora said as she put her spoon into her mouth as she watched Heather Duke make herself puke and being mocked for it by Heather Chandler. Bulimia always looked unpleasant. Nora had known a few girls from school who’d had dalliances with eating disorders, but no one who had committed to them. Well, not that they knew of. Her high school was far too boring for that. Maybe Paisley had tried it? How do you ask a question like that though? Best not to, Nora reasoned.
“Do you have to drive stick?”
“Yeah, split shift 13 speed transmission. Like I say, complicated” Nora said, twisting her head to see Paisley putting a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “How’s yours?”
“Ice cream? Same as always: really good. Like, all ice cream is good ice cream. Apart from vanilla cuz that literally has no flavor. Hey, you wanna try some? And I’ll take some of your Peanut Butter Fudge?”
They swapped spoons to enjoy each other’s Well’s ice cream and Paisley leaned into her best friend a little closer. This had been the third time that Nora had found herself in Paisley’s bed this week, eating ice cream and watching the earlier parts of Winona’s filmography. No paycheck yet, that Well’s discount was coming in useful for the ice cream, and Netflix was sorting out the movies. Though the absence of Beetlejuice in Netflix’s back catalog was noted.
“Nor…”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks”
Nora straightened up and looked at her friend at her with confusion.
Both Nora and Paisley were in nighties. It had been a custom since they first became friends. They would huddle together and giggle mischievously. Nora realised that, as the older friend, she probably needed to comfort Paisley. After the incident at the school with Mr Durant, who wouldn’t need it? So it became a thing. A decade of nighties and Heathers and under the covers giggling. And, recently, Wells ice cream.
And somehow it felt no different, a decade later. Paisley’s parents didn’t seem to mind because, well, you know how Paisley’s parents are. And Paisley didn’t mind, there was a security and comfort to the routine of it, two things that Paisley had a huge amount of time for. And Nora didn’t mind. Nora didn’t mind one bit.
“What for?”
“Just… hanging. I dunno, I just… I had this idea that we wouldn’t hang out as much. Now we aren’t working together any more” Paisley looked up sympathetically at Nora, whose eyebrows flinched at the honesty.
“Yeah, well I was planning on hanging out with all my old trucker buddies but they cancelled on me so…” Nora flashed a smile while her heart beat a little faster.
“You won’t ditch me, will you though? Like, when you get your proper licence and go explore the wild, blue yonder and everything?”
“Paisley… you are the most important person in my life and I will never - NEVER - ditch you like that. I promise” Nora said, looking into her friend’s eyes. Not accidentally. But deliberately meeting them and refusing to let go. Hang onto them, Nora. And don’t let go.
“Oh my god, I wish we really were lesbians. You’d make such a great girlfriend. Just think of the movies we could watch together then” Paisley said sweetly.
Nora didn’t answer. She just let her eyes return to the screen. Christian Slater was there looking smug. Nora never really understood his appeal in this movie. She never understood the appeal of Christian Slater at all, really.

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Denise was sitting in her chair, looking at paperwork. Another meeting in Sioux City with the handsome man from the bank, and hopefully that would be the end of it. Unless, of course, the handsome man would invite her for coffee. No, that would be inappropriate for a married woman. Even if it was just coffee. Even if he was very handsome. And had really great hair.
His name was Chase. He looked like a Chase. Chases had hefty jaw lines and a lot of hair product in their really great hair. She figured it was just customer service, being handsome and flirtatious. Trying to reel her in or take out a loan or something. Maybe, if you do a job like that for long enough, you forget to switch it off. Maybe he just doesn’t know how not to flirt. But Chase flirting with her made her wonder if she should dust off the cobwebs and flirt back. After all, he was very handsome. And had really great hair.
It also helped, because it took her mind off things. Financial things. How-are-we-going-to-afford-to-pay-the-bills things. Things that she would find herself thinking about in the times when she shouldn’t be thinking about anything. Her mind wandered like that. The store closure had hit them hard, and Darren’s medical bills made things difficult financially. They’d sold the store building to pay off a chunk of it, but it wasn’t worth much any more, making the store closure all the more difficult. It was all difficult, honestly.
And she knew he wasn’t okay. He never said he wasn’t, but after 29 years of marriage, you don’t really need to. He was quieter these days. Always reading the newspaper or listening to the radio. But the socializing had slowly evaporated over time. Should she push him? Or was that controlling? It was hard not to be controlling with someone who would sit down in the kitchen in the morning and not get up until the evening. It’s not like he could go bowling anymore. She knew it was difficult for him since the amputation but life was always difficult. And it was tiring, walking for two all the time.
For three, if she was being honest. Because there was also her eldest: Nora. The girl was just driftwood, no drive. Honestly, for her, the store closing down was probably the best thing for her. Get her out of her comfort zone. She could have been a doctor, Nora. Always smart enough. She had Denise’s head for numbers and Darren’s ability to make things look easy. But she didn’t want to be a doctor, she didn’t want to even go to college, because she was afraid of not being the smartest in the room. The same way that when she and her friend had that chance to go down to Cedar Rapids, she turned it down. She always acts like she’s too good for Le Mars, Iowa, but that’s how she likes it. She’s afraid of being somewhere she isn’t too good. Needs to be a big fish in a small pond. So, hopefully the job at Western Haulage will help her find her confidence.
And maybe find a man. Because the clock’s ticking and young kids these days don’t appreciate such things, not like Denise’s generation did. Nora was always pretty enough. Effortlessly pretty. Not like some of them these days, always at the gym, spending a week’s wages on a shopping spree in Sioux City. No, Nora liked to pretend she paid her appearance no mind. She was vain, she’d struggle to walk past a mirror without smiling at it, but she never worked out for fear of admitting she was vain. Curvy, cute and self-consciously casual. Most men in town would be punching above their weight with Nora. But nothing ever. Never even brought a boy home. That’s the thing about kids, they think they’re so much cooler than their parents but their generation spend a lot less time chasing and being chased by boys than Denise’s.
Maybe it was that Paisley. Lovely girl. Kinda fat; but nice as pie. Problem was, as far as Denise saw it, she held Nora back. The two girls had known each other since that teacher committed suicide. Mr… no, Denise couldn’t remember the name. But days like that can have an effect on someone. Leaves scars that nobody can see but you only know are there when you rub your hand against it. And they can push people to finding comfort and solace, a safe place. Nora found that in Paisley, and Paisley found that in pie. Now, she wasn’t ever a thin child, but Denise was fairly sure that her eating must have been a defense mechanism. And from the size of her these days, she was still very defensive. She could lose 80lbs and still be less attractive than Nora. And never wearing clothes that fit. The cuts she chose were always wrong for her body shape. But the two of them don’t seem to care about any of this and maybe that’s enough.
The younger daughter, Leanne, was better. She didn’t have a crutch as a sidekick or a sidekick as a crutch. She invited boys over growing up and now she was happily married to one. It’s not perfect. No kids - yet - though Denise suspected that there may be a medical reason. She had overheard them talking about IVF but she’d never say anything like that to her mom. Sounded expensive. But, by and large, things were good for those two. They had their own place, the fiance had a good job, accounting or something boring but well-paid, out in Sioux City. Which reminded Denise, maybe she could stop by and meet up with Leanne after Chase. Unless Chase would invite her for coffee afterwards. He really did have such great hair.
Maybe a bit of make-up. Wear a nice top, something with a more formal fabric but with a flattering cut. Though fewer cuts were flattering these days. The stress of the past six months had seen Denise up to a size 16. She’d never been a size 16 on bottom. The genetic donor to Nora’s good looks and natural shape, Denise had been an attractive woman all her life. She didn’t get approached the way she used to, but she could still turn heads on boys young enough to be her son. Well, until the past year or so, where time and a bit of stress-eating had made their presence known. It wasn’t just Paisley that had found comfort in food, it seems.

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“So, I can drive?”
Nora asked, trying to hide a smug smirk.
They were in his makeshift office by the side of the yard. He was sitting in a chair that squeaked every time he leant over to pull his mug of steaming instant coffee-infused water to lips. There was good coffee near reception but the walk would make him sweaty. So he squeaked the chair and grabbed the mug again and smiled.
“You passed the tests, you got the license. Yeah, you can drive. You know, you actually drive well for a…”
“Girl?”
“...for someone who sits so low in the seat. We’ll get you started tomorrow. Come in at 6 and you’ll be making your first solo truck journey”
Chesney had been smiling all day about this. Truthfully, Chesney smiled all day about most things. It seemed just a sensible place to rest his lips, upturned at either end. But he’d been smiling through this day more than most. The new girl getting her license.
Not in a creepy way. Chesney would never over-step. He just enjoyed seeing people succeed. And yes, she was attractive. If you were into shapely hips, a narrow waist, a substantial ass and notable breasts. And if you were a little less demure than Chesney, maybe the joy wasn’t in seeing her succeed, but seeing that smile, lop-sided as if afraid to commit to a full beam, across her pretty face. But Chesney wasn’t that kinda guy. Did he steal a glace when she jumped up and down in delight, before remembering her affected disinterest, stopping and then sliding her top down? Yeah, he was only human after all. And was he glad that this young girl, one of the best looking women he’d seen in this town, had decided to work under him? Of course he was. And did he spend his days, trying to engrave all the above images in his mind for later, after his wife was asleep and he was alone with his right hand? He couldn’t deny it. But Chesney was mainly just glad that she was succeeding.
“What will I be taking?”
“We’ll start you off easy…”
“I don’t need easy, I can do…”
“Trust me, I know you can. But this is your first, and we can build from there. You remember the site in Milwaukee? It’s just taking some empty pallets over to them. Simple 7 hours each way, but if you have any trouble, just ask for Chesney on the old radio and I’ll sort you out. And well done Nora! Now you start trucking”
Chesney’s smile grew wider as the conversation continued. She feigned disinterest, but he knew otherwise. She was a natural driver. It’s not a tricky job once you get the hang of it, but for some, it can take a while. Nora, on the other hand, picked things up quickly. Maybe she was a trucker in a past life. Chesney didn’t believe in such things, but his mom believed in it adamantly. Of course, she was crazy and would have been locked up if Le Mars had a place for her, but he did sometimes wonder. Either way, he gave it six months before the new girl was talking like one of the guys. And the fact that she was picking it up so quickly, and that a pretty girl was readily complimented on doing just that, meant that she was secretly loving it. Even if she would steadfastly refuse to admit it to a soul.
And Chesney’s smile reached full wattage as she finally turned to leave. Wearing tight jeans, he could watch the rhythmic bounce of her ass. Had it always been that rounded, that filling of the material, Chesney couldn’t remember. And he would have thought that he would remember. But he didn’t complain as he smiled and took photos in his mind for later.

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“Admit it, you enjoy it!” Paisley giggled as Winona Ryder dances in the snow caused from the shavings of Edward Scissorhands’ ice carvings. The curtains were closed and the quilt was up to their chins. Nora’s one chin and Paisley’s two.
“I don’t. It’s just a job” Nora replied defensively. “What about you? Do you enjoy yours?”
“Not really, it’s kinda boring. But there are perks, I guess…” Paisley smiled as she put the spoon of ice cream into her mouth. The second creased itself into clarity as the smile appeared.
“Yeah, but I’m getting those perks too and I get to drive a truck” Nora replied, smiling back as the mocha almond fudge ice cream hit the ridges on the roof of her mouth while she slid the spoon back out.
“So you admit that you do enjoy it!”
“Yeah, whatever”
Nora slid her head to the side, resting it on her smaller friend’s. It felt comfortable there. The whole evening did. This had been the fourth night in a row. Nobody at home seemed to mind. Her mom was preoccupied with financial stuff, as she always was. Her dad was happy and content just sitting at the table and… being dad. So Nora saw no problem with spending more time with Paisley.
“Anyway, I should probably eat less of this stuff?” Nora said, still looking at her friend. They both knew Edward Scissorhands off by heart at this point, and could recite it verbatim should the unlikely circumstance call for it. One of the joys of spending so much time with Paisley.
“Dental work?”
“No, ummm… just should probably lay off the ice cream a bit”
“Why?”
It was mainly for Paisley that Nora was spending more time. Sure, it was especially nice and calming, especially with the test this week and with the house having that uneasy quiet when things aren’t okay but nobody wants to directly address the fact. And she did enjoy spending time with her best friend of ten years. But it was mainly about providing support for Paisley. To be there for her. When Nora had been asked if they would continue hanging out, Nora saw that as a cry for help and insisted on proving to Paisley that she wouldn’t stop being in each others’ company. Also, tomorrow was Nora’s first job and it was an overnight one, so spending the day under Paisley’s quilt for the four days preceding that was the smart thing to do.
“Why do you think?”
“Dental work, I just said…”
“Considering you’re so smart, you’re pretty dumb Nora. I’m… nevermind. But, I should probably save some for tomorrow” Paisley said, putting the spoon in the container and putting it to one side. “But I might not be getting ice cream next time”.
“But it’s the only reason I hang out with you. For cheap ice cream” Nora said, watching Vincent Price on the screen now.
“Don’t worry Nor, I’ll still get you discounted ice cream. One one condition. I’ll do it, but only if you take photos on your journey”
“Of Milwaukee? It’s really nothing special Paiz…”
“Please. For me”
Nora didn’t understand why. Maybe she was a bit jealous. Both girls had applied for both jobs after all. And as much as Nora was initially annoyed about not getting the Wells’ job, maybe Paisley wanted the haulage one. To get the chance to travel. Or maybe Paisley was just trying to keep the pair of them close still, even as they stopped working together, which was a cute thought.
Another option, though it was one that Nora hadn’t thought of, was that Paisley was worried about Nora. Nora feeling left out. Nora being cut out. It didn’t dawn on Nora that this was an option because that wasn’t the dynamic that Nora had in her head. Nora was the older sister, and she looked after Paisley. The idea that Paisley was worrying about Nora didn’t cross her mind.
“Fine, I’ll take photos. For you”
“Thank you! And in return, I’ll let you have the rest of my ice cream” Paisley said, grabbing the container and passing it over to Nora.
This was a change to the normal dynamic. Paisley had never not finished the food in front of her before. All this change happening in both of their lives, but this was unexpected. It couldn’t be that Paisley was, for the first time in her life, watching what she ate? Could it? Could she be thinking about the ‘d’ word? Diet, that is, not the other d’ word. Nora put her spoon into Paisley’s ice cream and eyed her best friend suspiciously. She didn’t know how she felt about all this.
But she found the cold sweetness of the Peanut Butter Chocolate certainly soothed her subconscious about the morning’s trip.
 

Chapter 1
 

“You got that, Nora?”
“Busy”
“You actually busy, or just on your phone?”
“Fine… I’ll get it”
Nora’s shoulders slumped lower than their already deflated default as she pulled herself off the stool in the corner of the store to greet the customer. A stool that was originally for Betty Reynolds when she worked in the store. Before her stroke. She was never very good on her legs was Betty. Nora had since claimed the three-legged thing as her own on quiet days. Which were most days. Thank god for Betty’s stroke.
“Hi, welcome to Mattie’s Fabrics, how can I help you today?” she sing-sang to the customer while not really making much in the way of eye-contact with the customer. The worst thing about working in retail, ask anybody, is the customers. And the pay. And all of it really.
“You got any sheets of linen? I’m sewing a dress together and…”
“Color?”
“Oh… ummm… do you have egg-shell or ivory?” the customer asked. Some old woman, Nora had seen her about from time to time. She’d seen most people around from time to time. After all, the town of Le Mars, Iowa, was only so big and not a million miles away from the middle of nowhere. A few thousand faces stuck on repeat, endlessly recycled on a loop like the stock faces in a computer game. Le Mars. Where dreams go to whither and people go to die. Which sucked for someone like Nora, who was born and raised there.
“Yeah, sure. We call it beige but…”
“Oh no, not beige. What about off-white or…”
“No, you want beige. Beige is off-white. Beige is ivory and beige is egg-shell. And it’s also desert sand and ecru and cosmic latte and tuscan and unbleached silk… it’s all the same color, ma’am. Just with fancier names. A million ways to say beige. So… you good with beige? Ma’am?”
“I’ll… I’ll maybe try elsewhere” the old lady said, scuttling off out the shop. Nora rolled her eyes. There was nowhere else. This was Le Mars. There was only one fabric shop, ailing and bare, and she was working in it. You could try Sioux City but that was half an hour away by car and longer by bus. And all because this customer was too arrogant to deal with a word like beige. Nora didn’t get it. Had she not seen the color of this entire town?
“Did you scare away another customer?”
“Come on! You heard her, Paisley, she was being an ass”
“That’s Mrs. Dover. The pastor’s wife. Leads the choir. If someone was being  ass, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Mrs. Dover. If I tell your mom that you’re the reason that this place is closing down...”
“Whatever… narc” Nora spat her tongue out as she smiled, before climbing back onto her stool and staring at her phone again.
Nora wasn’t the reason that Mattie’s Fabrics was going under. The 21st Century was the reason that Mattie’s Fabrics was going under. The 21st Century with its rise of online shopping and with its steady decline of main streets and anything outside the big coastal cities. The 21st Century with its disdain for those content just to eke out a living. The 21st Century that had no time for self-made items using russet fabrics and cotton fabrics. Nora’s cynicism barely left an imprint, drowned out by the looming shadow of modernity and time.
“Anyway, how is your mom? Still down about it or…?”
“Yeah. Still down about it. Got a house full of people saying nothing. Dad quiet cuz mom’s quiet. Leanne’s quiet cuz dad’s quiet. And I’m quiet cuz... I hate it there” Nora grumbled, while typing some comment to a Facebook post that she didn’t care about. Her sister posting about sports that she didn’t watch but her fiance did so she felt she’d best keep up experiences. Her boss from her first job complaining about Hilary Clinton’s involvement in a prostitution ring. Jasmine from across the road showing pictures of her youngest’s first steps. Though, given that she’d had five kids already, surely the novelty should have worn off by now? Nora scrolled through it all, the blue and white just giving her eyes something to do rather than explicitly entertain her.
“Hey… you okay? It must be tough for you, Nor”
She walked up to her and put an arm around Nora’s shoulder in sympathy, leaning their heads against one another like they were shaped specially for that purpose. Both of them just stayed in silence for a bit. It’s not like the place was busy.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. But Paisley… thanks”
Nora smiled at Paisley kindly, and their eyes lingered against one another for another few moments.
“Hey, you’re my best friend, and also my only friend but that’s not important, and I’ll do anything for you. Including the sex” Paisley smirked, and Nora pulled away with a giggle.
“You are gross”
“I just wanna do the sex with you”
“Stop it!”
“You know I wanna have the sex with you”
“Stop calling it ‘the sex’. And also stop talking about us having sex. Both of those things”
“How about a 69?”
“That… that’s still sex”
“A 96?”
“That’s the same thing! Just a made up name for the same thing!”
“Like calling egg-white beige?”
“Exactly like calling egg-white beige!”

+-+-+-+-+-+-

Nora and Paisley had been friends since the days of Le Mars Community Middle School, and through to Le Mars Community High School. Ever since Mr Durant had that emotional breakdown that everyone still talks about and the police had to be called, and Nora had to console a crying Paisley in the corner of Miss Derby’s classroom. Or was it Mr Coffrey’s classroom back then? Either way, Paisley was a year younger and half a foot shorter, but they bonded that day, possibly over the shared trauma, and just never got around to un-bonding. Who else was there to bond with around these parts? Jasmine and her never-ending procession of children? No thank you.
So Nora was like an older sister to Paisley, and Paisley was the younger sister to Nora. The Samwys to her Frodo, the Samwell to her Job Snow. Nora even got the girl that job at her mom’s store. It was just the way of things, and nobody paid it much thought. And Paisley was useful to have around. Her parents could never complain about their daughter for anything, because everything that Nora was bad at, Paisley was worse. Like a wingwoman, but for nagging parents. It wasn’t the reason that Nora liked Paisley, but it wasn’t a bad side-effect.
They were now in their mid-20s and their friendship was the best thing about every day for Nora. In fact, the only good thing. Work was a soul-sapping exercise - she hated the busy days because they were busy and she hated the quiet days because they weren’t. Worse still, work was only a soul-sapping exercise in the short term. Her mom was having to close the store at the end of the month. It was either that or lose the house. So the store went, and so did 30 years of hard work and pride and being integral to the community. Nobody bought raw materials any more, every piece of clothing always came ready-made. Why put in the effort, when somebody else would do it for you? The residents of Le Mars weren’t fans of SE Asian sweatshops exactly, but they didn’t mind the convenience, if they were being honest. The only generation that believed in self-repair and sewing and such things had hands too arthritic to carry it out. The fad of young people taking up such hobbies as sewing and knitting only applied to the cities, where the hipsters and all their various beard oils were, a million miles away.
Neither Paisley nor Nora knew what to do after the place closed. They’d worked there since high school, sitting around and occasionally ushering someone towards the satin section. Without the place, there weren’t a whole heap of options without a hefty commute. The two biggest employers in town were Wells’ Ice Cream Manufacturing Plant, and Western Haulage. Both were mainstays of the town. Molly’s mom worked at Wells’, and both Terri and Terry had dads’ work for Western Haulage. Years ago, the town’s mayor had dubbed Le Mars “The Ice Cream Capital of the World”. It’s true, look it up. Sure, this is despite Napoli existing. And sure, there was only a single ice cream plant. But the mayor’s self-anointing was more wishful thinking than reality, and it looked good on the signs. There had been talk for years about a second factory. It was the sort of thing politicians would promise on the campaign trail near election time and then not deliver so that they could promise it again at the next election. Iowa got a lot of those.  But that only really left Wells’, dairy farm work or the trucking company.
Both girls applied for jobs at both places, sending a resume listing a thin smattering of achievements - Mattie’s Fabrics, a high school diploma, JV softball and the 4-H Club - but both girls secretly hoped for neither job. They probably would recognise half the people there - didn’t Tina go back to working at the factory after her family farm went under? - but they would be the people who didn’t make it. Who got left behind in place and time, in Le Mars, Iowa. A factory drone sounded more soul-sapping than Mattie’s Fabrics, and life as a trucker was not how they’d hoped to spend their days either. But it was what it was.
A third option was Melville. Or so the two girls liked to joke. He was in the same year at High School as Nora and had liked her ever since. Nora wasn’t the school’s queen bee or anything, but she had always been easy to fall for. Even 10 years later. She’d always attracted attention, never really seeking it but never really minding it either. Her 5’7” made her tall, but not in a particularly noticeable way. Her hair, a side-parted brown bob that was once longer, was again trendy without setting the world alight. Her figure, 150lbs spread evenly and without any underlying agenda, had curves to keep the eyes of passers-by occupied without ever being enough to seem dramatic. And her smile was friendly and warm, without flaw but without sheen. It all left her exactly as she wanted to be. Attractive, but without being the talk of the town.
Melville, on the other hand, was talk of the town. Not for his looks, mind you. Unfortunately for him, he was cursed with a face that looked hand-drawn by a toddler and a level of asymmetry that challenged the most seasoned geometrist. Nor was it for his character, an unassuming but likeable sort as most with Picasso-esque faces so often tend to be. No, the most notable fact about Melville was that time he won the state lottery, making him technically a millionaire, though $1.2 million (after taxes) was realistically enough to live no more lavishly than a schoolteacher when collected over a lifetime. But his millionaire status made him a interesting “plan B” for Nora, even if he did look like he was designed in the dark.
The bitter irony was that it was Melville and Paisley that had been friends back at school. They hung out in the emo corner, listening to Fall Out Boy and Paisley even tried dying her black once but it made her scalp itch so badly that it was never attempted nor spoked of again. Paisley wasn’t emo in personality, and she had long behind left the dark eye make-up, but Nora had known even then why Paisley wore only the blackest blacks. Because Paisley, even back then, was a chunky kid, and emo was just a place that ugly kids and chubby kids hung out. Nowadays, they just lived in Le Mars for that.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

“Someone’s got the holler tail” Nora’s dad said, not even looking up from the business section of the local paper. He only really cared for the sports pages, truth be known, but he read the whole thing so as to get his money’s worth.
“No, I don’t” Nora grumbled, grabbing a slice of toast as she walked towards the door.
“Sure sounds that way”
Nora sighed. She hated it when she was accused of being in a bad mood. How do you respond? You say ‘no’, and it sounds argumentative, proving their point. But if you say ‘yes’, then you are agreeing with their point. There was no answer to the question that wouldn’t vindicate her dad’s accusation. And, to make matters worse, he was right. She was in a foul mood.
“I have a job interview…” Nora admitted.
“Well, that’s the best bad news I’ve ever heard!” he said, finally looking up.
“...to drive trucks. Long-haul trucking. Can you imagine? Me, doing that? Smelling of diesel? Even the job at Well’s Ice Cream plant sounded better than that. Plus, Paisley got a job at Wells’, they offered it to her today. I don’t know why they would hire her and not me. No offense to Paisley…”
Her dad had been the one who had suggested applying to Western. He knew a guy, he said, which came as a shock to nobody since what middle-aged man from Le Mars, Iowa -did not know a guy at Western Haulage. Back when he was at Le Mars Community High School, several from his class ended up there. And then there was John, one of his Friday night bowling buddies, though they’d stopped hanging out of late. John hasn’t been the same since his wife had that stroke. He really should check in on him, make sure he’s doing okay. Maybe invite him round to watch football. Or go over there, and watch the game with John’s surround-sound system. Good karma, good football and surround-sound? There were worse ways of spending an evening.
“I don’t know. One look at your resume and I’d have done the same. Only one job, and at the place owned by your mom? Yeah, I’d have taken one look and thought ‘nepotism’” Her dad told her, before pushing his eyes back down. The horoscope section. The section where getting your moneys-worth out of a paper was hardest. He never believed such things. But then again, he never believed in driverless cars and apparently they were testing them now so maybe he should keep an open mind. And, as an Aquarius, he was the most open-minded star sign after all.
“Thanks dad” Nora rolled her eyes.
“Not a criticism. Just an observation. I know how these people work. How they think. And they’d look at you and see a no-hoper with a CV” he said, sipping his morning coffee. His wife glared at him. “But, of course, it’s not true and they don’t know what a wonderful woman they’re missing out on”.
“Yeah, that was too little too late dad. Anyway, I should probably be leaving. Gonna ask Paisley on interviewing tips, since I clearly suck and she’s clearly better than me” Nora grumbled.
“You don’t need any tips honey, I’m sure you’re wonderful. But make sure you’re back by 7… your uncle’s coming over for dinner” her mom added, as she applied make-up. Another meeting with the bank manager down in Sioux City. Not only did they have to take her business from her, they also needed thousands of mind-numbing meetings to do it.
“The creepy uncle? Or the really creepy uncle?”
“Don’t call them that. Your Uncle Johnny’s not too bad, as long as we’re in the room. But it’s Alan this time, so maybe get back a bit earlier than 7 so you can change into something more conservative. Anyway, I have to scoot off but I’ll catch you two later. And when’s your interview Nora?”
“Wednesday… if I go”
“Oh don’t be silly honey. It’ll be fine. If it’s not meant to be, you won’t get it. And if it is, you will. And doesn’t that girl from your year drive trucks? The one with the braces?” her mom said as she headed to the door.
“Marie-anne hasn’t worn braces in ten years. And she delivers things to people who shop online. It’s a bit different from long-distance trucking. And she was in Leanne’s year, not mine. But apart from that, you got it in one, mom!” Nora said, but her mom was already out the door.
“And you will turn up at that interview Nora. Otherwise everyone in town will think of you as the kind of woman who doesn’t turn up to interviews and you don’t want that, do you? And then nobody will hire you. Trust me, I know how these people think” her dad continued, eyes focused as he finally reached the sports section. At last, where the actual good stuff was. And it was just as well, because Nora too had left for whatever it was she had said she was planning on doing. Leaving him in peace with the best section of the paper. Sometimes, you gotta enjoy the good stuff when it hits.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

“I’m so sorry Nora, I honestly thought they’d give you the job” Paisley said as Nora sat herself back down on her usual stool in Mattie’s Fabrics for the last time. It was the last day of trading, the closing down sale had proven to be enough of a hit that they were actually closing three days earlier than planned. Which was good? Or bad? It was hard to tell really.
“Oh no, they offered me the job. It’s mine if I want it. I’m just pissed cuz it’s… like, me, driving a truck? Why couldn’t I work with you? I’d be so good at… doing whatever it is you’re gonna do. Making ice cream?” Nora scrunched her face up, not really remembering.
“You landed a decent job in this town and you’re still being a little bitch about it? Nor, you are ridiculous at times!” Paisley threw one of the biros from behind the desk at her friend, who flinched to such an extent that she nearly toppled.
“Trucking, though?”
“Sounds bad-ass if you ask me. No cars on the road getting in your way in a truck. Plus, you’d get to travel. Sorta. Get outta this town. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”
“Yeah. I guess” Nora’s shoulders slumped, eyes on her phone again. Jasmine was on her Facebook feed, talking about maybe trying for another kid. Wasn’t six enough? Everyone in the comments was really supportive but they all must have been thinking that.
And was it what she wanted? Driving a truck and getting outta Le Mars? It wasn’t how she’d always seen things going. She didn’t think it was beneath her, but… well, she did think it was beneath her, but didn’t want to be a bitch about it so she stuffed that thought to the back of her head. And maybe Paisley was right? Travelling sounded good. Showing the guys that she could do it just as well as they could, despite being a proud 27 year old woman and not a, old dad-bodded 45 year old man who racks up a DUI every Christmas, making him late to pick up the kids. 27 years old, meant she was young still, she was pretty sure. But was she just the lower end of middle-aged? Her parents kept hassling her over settling down with somebody - “didn’t that Melville like you? He’s not the best looking but he’d keep you right” - and if it wasn’t 27, then when was it? 28? 30? So many questions in Nora’s head, and not really the desire to answer them.
“Plus, I bet you get paid well. Ronnie from my year…”
“One of the emo ones?”
“Yeah, he had that cheap leather coat that he thought made him look cool but everyone totally made fun of him because of it… well, he drives. Not for Western Haulage, he moved outta town a few years back. But he’s got a nice house from the looks of the pictures on Facebook…”
“I know, Paiz. I know. It’s just… remember when we were growing up and we were gonna leave this place and go meet up with your cousin out in Cedar Falls and… I dunno… it was different working for my mom cuz it always felt temporary. Just a way to hang out and make money while I decide what to do. But this job, driving a truck, it’ll… I worry that it’s like I’ll be deciding ‘this is who I am now’. And that person will be someone who drives trucks and this just isn’t how I pictured things going when we talked about leaving for Cedar Rapids…”
“You are weirdly philosophical at times Nor. You think about things way too much”
Unbeknownst to Paisley, this was something that Nora was aware of. In fact, this was something that Nora thought about way too much, before starting to think about how she was thinking too much about how she was thinking too much. It wasn’t deliberate or premeditated. Her mind just took the scenic route to any conclusion, often stopping to enjoy the scenery before getting there. Or maybe she was just overthinking things when she reached that conclusion.
Paisley, Nora had long concluded, was never partial to such ruminatory detours. She never really spent much time thinking about how much time she spent thinking about things, but it is safe to say that, were she to do so, then the conclusion would be that she spent very little time thinking about such things. It wasn’t that she was dumb, it’s just that her eyes focused on the things in front of her, and her mind did the same.
Nora never thought this as a sign that Paisley was lesser or not as smart. In some ways, it seemed a virtue, to go along in the direction that life pulled her without stopping to ponder why and whether there. On the other hand, Nora was also self-aware enough to know that she was lying to herself when she thought this, and that her superior self-awareness was a reason why she did think she was better than Paisley. But everyone did that, didn’t they? Everyone thought that they were smarter than everyone. What’s the alternative? Thinking other people are right, and you are wrong? If you thought that, if you thought you were wrong, then why were you thinking it? Surely just think the thing that you think is right, instead?
“I mean… is working in QC at Wells’ what you always thought you’d be doing?” Nora retorted, now looking at pictures of an old flame with a new partner who had the same haircut that she did. They must have a type.
“So you do know what I do at Well’s?”
“Yeah, I guess. Just don’t tell anyone. I wanna come across as cool and disinterested” Nora smirked as she said it, desperately looking at her screen so she didn’t fully crack into a smile. “Anyway, at least you get to eat ice cream for a living”.
“Well… actually… QC don’t get to eat the ice cream”
Nora looked up at this.
“What the fuck? Why not?”
“It’s just testing it. I just do the visual checks on deliveries from other suppliers. No samples though. Oh my god! I just thought, you might be one of the people who makes deliveries to us? I might have to check your stock!” Paisley beamed.
“Does everything you say have to sound like an innuendo? People are gonna think you’re into me” Nora’s attention was back on her phone.
“Me checking your stock is not an innuendo. Says more about you than it does about me that your brain went there”
“No it doesn’t!”
“You’re seriously defensive every time I mention we should be gay lovers?”
“I’m not! Oh fuck… you just did what my dad does!”
“Your dad thinks we should be gay lovers?”
“No, he… always sets me up by saying I’m argumentative or defensive and if I say ‘no’ it just proves his…” Nora looked up, to see Paisley smirking at her. Nora’s cheeks were red and she realised that she actually was getting worked up this time. Maybe Nora wasn’t as self-aware as she thought. Maybe Paisley was more self-aware than she thought. But here Nora was again, arguing that she wasn’t arguing.
But this was Paisley all over. The little sister she never had. Or she would have been, if Leanne wasn’t the little sister that she did have. Paisley was not as smart or reflective, not as tall nor as pretty, not as old, not as wise. But she was loyal and funny and breezy and cute. 5ft1 and still the same amount of soft chunkiness that she’d possessed since the days of ditching math to avoid Mrs Tyler and her missing front tooth. Paisley had chipmunk cheeks and a muffintop regardless of what she chose to wear. And she had long hair that was brown like Nora. But not brown like Nora because Nora’s was chestnut and mahogany, while Paisley’s was more dead moss. But cute though, although Nora didn’t possess enough self-awareness over the extent that she felt that way.
“One good thing about working at Wells’... I get employee discount” Paisley smiled, and those chipmunk cheeks reemerged. “So you know what that means?”
“That purchases made by employees are at a price reduced by a certain fraction?”
“It means that, after this shift, we should totally get ice cream”
 

Chapter 1
 

“You got that, Nora?”
“Busy”
“You actually busy, or just on your phone?”
“Fine… I’ll get it”
Nora’s shoulders slumped lower than their already deflated default as she pulled herself off the stool in the corner of the store to greet the customer. A stool that was originally for Betty Reynolds when she worked in the store. Before her stroke. She was never very good on her legs was Betty. Nora had since claimed the three-legged thing as her own on quiet days. Which were most days. Thank god for Betty’s stroke.
“Hi, welcome to Mattie’s Fabrics, how can I help you today?” she sing-sang to the customer while not really making much in the way of eye-contact with the customer. The worst thing about working in retail, ask anybody, is the customers. And the pay. And all of it really.
“You got any sheets of linen? I’m sewing a dress together and…”
“Color?”
“Oh… ummm… do you have egg-shell or ivory?” the customer asked. Some old woman, Nora had seen her about from time to time. She’d seen most people around from time to time. After all, the town of Le Mars, Iowa, was only so big and not a million miles away from the middle of nowhere. A few thousand faces stuck on repeat, endlessly recycled on a loop like the stock faces in a computer game. Le Mars. Where dreams go to whither and people go to die. Which sucked for someone like Nora, who was born and raised there.
“Yeah, sure. We call it beige but…”
“Oh no, not beige. What about off-white or…”
“No, you want beige. Beige is off-white. Beige is ivory and beige is egg-shell. And it’s also desert sand and ecru and cosmic latte and tuscan and unbleached silk… it’s all the same color, ma’am. Just with fancier names. A million ways to say beige. So… you good with beige? Ma’am?”
“I’ll… I’ll maybe try elsewhere” the old lady said, scuttling off out the shop. Nora rolled her eyes. There was nowhere else. This was Le Mars. There was only one fabric shop, ailing and bare, and she was working in it. You could try Sioux City but that was half an hour away by car and longer by bus. And all because this customer was too arrogant to deal with a word like beige. Nora didn’t get it. Had she not seen the color of this entire town?
“Did you scare away another customer?”
“Come on! You heard her, Paisley, she was being an ass”
“That’s Mrs. Dover. The pastor’s wife. Leads the choir. If someone was being  ass, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Mrs. Dover. If I tell your mom that you’re the reason that this place is closing down...”
“Whatever… narc” Nora spat her tongue out as she smiled, before climbing back onto her stool and staring at her phone again.
Nora wasn’t the reason that Mattie’s Fabrics was going under. The 21st Century was the reason that Mattie’s Fabrics was going under. The 21st Century with its rise of online shopping and with its steady decline of main streets and anything outside the big coastal cities. The 21st Century with its disdain for those content just to eke out a living. The 21st Century that had no time for self-made items using russet fabrics and cotton fabrics. Nora’s cynicism barely left an imprint, drowned out by the looming shadow of modernity and time.
“Anyway, how is your mom? Still down about it or…?”
“Yeah. Still down about it. Got a house full of people saying nothing. Dad quiet cuz mom’s quiet. Leanne’s quiet cuz dad’s quiet. And I’m quiet cuz... I hate it there” Nora grumbled, while typing some comment to a Facebook post that she didn’t care about. Her sister posting about sports that she didn’t watch but her fiance did so she felt she’d best keep up experiences. Her boss from her first job complaining about Hilary Clinton’s involvement in a prostitution ring. Jasmine from across the road showing pictures of her youngest’s first steps. Though, given that she’d had five kids already, surely the novelty should have worn off by now? Nora scrolled through it all, the blue and white just giving her eyes something to do rather than explicitly entertain her.
“Hey… you okay? It must be tough for you, Nor”
She walked up to her and put an arm around Nora’s shoulder in sympathy, leaning their heads against one another like they were shaped specially for that purpose. Both of them just stayed in silence for a bit. It’s not like the place was busy.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. But Paisley… thanks”
Nora smiled at Paisley kindly, and their eyes lingered against one another for another few moments.
“Hey, you’re my best friend, and also my only friend but that’s not important, and I’ll do anything for you. Including the sex” Paisley smirked, and Nora pulled away with a giggle.
“You are gross”
“I just wanna do the sex with you”
“Stop it!”
“You know I wanna have the sex with you”
“Stop calling it ‘the sex’. And also stop talking about us having sex. Both of those things”
“How about a 69?”
“That… that’s still sex”
“A 96?”
“That’s the same thing! Just a made up name for the same thing!”
“Like calling egg-white beige?”
“Exactly like calling egg-white beige!”

+-+-+-+-+-+-

Nora and Paisley had been friends since the days of Le Mars Community Middle School, and through to Le Mars Community High School. Ever since Mr Durant had that emotional breakdown that everyone still talks about and the police had to be called, and Nora had to console a crying Paisley in the corner of Miss Derby’s classroom. Or was it Mr Coffrey’s classroom back then? Either way, Paisley was a year younger and half a foot shorter, but they bonded that day, possibly over the shared trauma, and just never got around to un-bonding. Who else was there to bond with around these parts? Jasmine and her never-ending procession of children? No thank you.
So Nora was like an older sister to Paisley, and Paisley was the younger sister to Nora. The Samwys to her Frodo, the Samwell to her Job Snow. Nora even got the girl that job at her mom’s store. It was just the way of things, and nobody paid it much thought. And Paisley was useful to have around. Her parents could never complain about their daughter for anything, because everything that Nora was bad at, Paisley was worse. Like a wingwoman, but for nagging parents. It wasn’t the reason that Nora liked Paisley, but it wasn’t a bad side-effect.
They were now in their mid-20s and their friendship was the best thing about every day for Nora. In fact, the only good thing. Work was a soul-sapping exercise - she hated the busy days because they were busy and she hated the quiet days because they weren’t. Worse still, work was only a soul-sapping exercise in the short term. Her mom was having to close the store at the end of the month. It was either that or lose the house. So the store went, and so did 30 years of hard work and pride and being integral to the community. Nobody bought raw materials any more, every piece of clothing always came ready-made. Why put in the effort, when somebody else would do it for you? The residents of Le Mars weren’t fans of SE Asian sweatshops exactly, but they didn’t mind the convenience, if they were being honest. The only generation that believed in self-repair and sewing and such things had hands too arthritic to carry it out. The fad of young people taking up such hobbies as sewing and knitting only applied to the cities, where the hipsters and all their various beard oils were, a million miles away.
Neither Paisley nor Nora knew what to do after the place closed. They’d worked there since high school, sitting around and occasionally ushering someone towards the satin section. Without the place, there weren’t a whole heap of options without a hefty commute. The two biggest employers in town were Wells’ Ice Cream Manufacturing Plant, and Western Haulage. Both were mainstays of the town. Molly’s mom worked at Wells’, and both Terri and Terry had dads’ work for Western Haulage. Years ago, the town’s mayor had dubbed Le Mars “The Ice Cream Capital of the World”. It’s true, look it up. Sure, this is despite Napoli existing. And sure, there was only a single ice cream plant. But the mayor’s self-anointing was more wishful thinking than reality, and it looked good on the signs. There had been talk for years about a second factory. It was the sort of thing politicians would promise on the campaign trail near election time and then not deliver so that they could promise it again at the next election. Iowa got a lot of those.  But that only really left Wells’, dairy farm work or the trucking company.
Both girls applied for jobs at both places, sending a resume listing a thin smattering of achievements - Mattie’s Fabrics, a high school diploma, JV softball and the 4-H Club - but both girls secretly hoped for neither job. They probably would recognise half the people there - didn’t Tina go back to working at the factory after her family farm went under? - but they would be the people who didn’t make it. Who got left behind in place and time, in Le Mars, Iowa. A factory drone sounded more soul-sapping than Mattie’s Fabrics, and life as a trucker was not how they’d hoped to spend their days either. But it was what it was.
A third option was Melville. Or so the two girls liked to joke. He was in the same year at High School as Nora and had liked her ever since. Nora wasn’t the school’s queen bee or anything, but she had always been easy to fall for. Even 10 years later. She’d always attracted attention, never really seeking it but never really minding it either. Her 5’7” made her tall, but not in a particularly noticeable way. Her hair, a side-parted brown bob that was once longer, was again trendy without setting the world alight. Her figure, 150lbs spread evenly and without any underlying agenda, had curves to keep the eyes of passers-by occupied without ever being enough to seem dramatic. And her smile was friendly and warm, without flaw but without sheen. It all left her exactly as she wanted to be. Attractive, but without being the talk of the town.
Melville, on the other hand, was talk of the town. Not for his looks, mind you. Unfortunately for him, he was cursed with a face that looked hand-drawn by a toddler and a level of asymmetry that challenged the most seasoned geometrist. Nor was it for his character, an unassuming but likeable sort as most with Picasso-esque faces so often tend to be. No, the most notable fact about Melville was that time he won the state lottery, making him technically a millionaire, though $1.2 million (after taxes) was realistically enough to live no more lavishly than a schoolteacher when collected over a lifetime. But his millionaire status made him a interesting “plan B” for Nora, even if he did look like he was designed in the dark.
The bitter irony was that it was Melville and Paisley that had been friends back at school. They hung out in the emo corner, listening to Fall Out Boy and Paisley even tried dying her black once but it made her scalp itch so badly that it was never attempted nor spoked of again. Paisley wasn’t emo in personality, and she had long behind left the dark eye make-up, but Nora had known even then why Paisley wore only the blackest blacks. Because Paisley, even back then, was a chunky kid, and emo was just a place that ugly kids and chubby kids hung out. Nowadays, they just lived in Le Mars for that.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

“Someone’s got the holler tail” Nora’s dad said, not even looking up from the business section of the local paper. He only really cared for the sports pages, truth be known, but he read the whole thing so as to get his money’s worth.
“No, I don’t” Nora grumbled, grabbing a slice of toast as she walked towards the door.
“Sure sounds that way”
Nora sighed. She hated it when she was accused of being in a bad mood. How do you respond? You say ‘no’, and it sounds argumentative, proving their point. But if you say ‘yes’, then you are agreeing with their point. There was no answer to the question that wouldn’t vindicate her dad’s accusation. And, to make matters worse, he was right. She was in a foul mood.
“I have a job interview…” Nora admitted.
“Well, that’s the best bad news I’ve ever heard!” he said, finally looking up.
“...to drive trucks. Long-haul trucking. Can you imagine? Me, doing that? Smelling of diesel? Even the job at Well’s Ice Cream plant sounded better than that. Plus, Paisley got a job at Wells’, they offered it to her today. I don’t know why they would hire her and not me. No offense to Paisley…”
Her dad had been the one who had suggested applying to Western. He knew a guy, he said, which came as a shock to nobody since what middle-aged man from Le Mars, Iowa -did not know a guy at Western Haulage. Back when he was at Le Mars Community High School, several from his class ended up there. And then there was John, one of his Friday night bowling buddies, though they’d stopped hanging out of late. John hasn’t been the same since his wife had that stroke. He really should check in on him, make sure he’s doing okay. Maybe invite him round to watch football. Or go over there, and watch the game with John’s surround-sound system. Good karma, good football and surround-sound? There were worse ways of spending an evening.
“I don’t know. One look at your resume and I’d have done the same. Only one job, and at the place owned by your mom? Yeah, I’d have taken one look and thought ‘nepotism’” Her dad told her, before pushing his eyes back down. The horoscope section. The section where getting your moneys-worth out of a paper was hardest. He never believed such things. But then again, he never believed in driverless cars and apparently they were testing them now so maybe he should keep an open mind. And, as an Aquarius, he was the most open-minded star sign after all.
“Thanks dad” Nora rolled her eyes.
“Not a criticism. Just an observation. I know how these people work. How they think. And they’d look at you and see a no-hoper with a CV” he said, sipping his morning coffee. His wife glared at him. “But, of course, it’s not true and they don’t know what a wonderful woman they’re missing out on”.
“Yeah, that was too little too late dad. Anyway, I should probably be leaving. Gonna ask Paisley on interviewing tips, since I clearly suck and she’s clearly better than me” Nora grumbled.
“You don’t need any tips honey, I’m sure you’re wonderful. But make sure you’re back by 7… your uncle’s coming over for dinner” her mom added, as she applied make-up. Another meeting with the bank manager down in Sioux City. Not only did they have to take her business from her, they also needed thousands of mind-numbing meetings to do it.
“The creepy uncle? Or the really creepy uncle?”
“Don’t call them that. Your Uncle Johnny’s not too bad, as long as we’re in the room. But it’s Alan this time, so maybe get back a bit earlier than 7 so you can change into something more conservative. Anyway, I have to scoot off but I’ll catch you two later. And when’s your interview Nora?”
“Wednesday… if I go”
“Oh don’t be silly honey. It’ll be fine. If it’s not meant to be, you won’t get it. And if it is, you will. And doesn’t that girl from your year drive trucks? The one with the braces?” her mom said as she headed to the door.
“Marie-anne hasn’t worn braces in ten years. And she delivers things to people who shop online. It’s a bit different from long-distance trucking. And she was in Leanne’s year, not mine. But apart from that, you got it in one, mom!” Nora said, but her mom was already out the door.
“And you will turn up at that interview Nora. Otherwise everyone in town will think of you as the kind of woman who doesn’t turn up to interviews and you don’t want that, do you? And then nobody will hire you. Trust me, I know how these people think” her dad continued, eyes focused as he finally reached the sports section. At last, where the actual good stuff was. And it was just as well, because Nora too had left for whatever it was she had said she was planning on doing. Leaving him in peace with the best section of the paper. Sometimes, you gotta enjoy the good stuff when it hits.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

“I’m so sorry Nora, I honestly thought they’d give you the job” Paisley said as Nora sat herself back down on her usual stool in Mattie’s Fabrics for the last time. It was the last day of trading, the closing down sale had proven to be enough of a hit that they were actually closing three days earlier than planned. Which was good? Or bad? It was hard to tell really.
“Oh no, they offered me the job. It’s mine if I want it. I’m just pissed cuz it’s… like, me, driving a truck? Why couldn’t I work with you? I’d be so good at… doing whatever it is you’re gonna do. Making ice cream?” Nora scrunched her face up, not really remembering.
“You landed a decent job in this town and you’re still being a little bitch about it? Nor, you are ridiculous at times!” Paisley threw one of the biros from behind the desk at her friend, who flinched to such an extent that she nearly toppled.
“Trucking, though?”
“Sounds bad-ass if you ask me. No cars on the road getting in your way in a truck. Plus, you’d get to travel. Sorta. Get outta this town. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”
“Yeah. I guess” Nora’s shoulders slumped, eyes on her phone again. Jasmine was on her Facebook feed, talking about maybe trying for another kid. Wasn’t six enough? Everyone in the comments was really supportive but they all must have been thinking that.
And was it what she wanted? Driving a truck and getting outta Le Mars? It wasn’t how she’d always seen things going. She didn’t think it was beneath her, but… well, she did think it was beneath her, but didn’t want to be a bitch about it so she stuffed that thought to the back of her head. And maybe Paisley was right? Travelling sounded good. Showing the guys that she could do it just as well as they could, despite being a proud 27 year old woman and not a, old dad-bodded 45 year old man who racks up a DUI every Christmas, making him late to pick up the kids. 27 years old, meant she was young still, she was pretty sure. But was she just the lower end of middle-aged? Her parents kept hassling her over settling down with somebody - “didn’t that Melville like you? He’s not the best looking but he’d keep you right” - and if it wasn’t 27, then when was it? 28? 30? So many questions in Nora’s head, and not really the desire to answer them.
“Plus, I bet you get paid well. Ronnie from my year…”
“One of the emo ones?”
“Yeah, he had that cheap leather coat that he thought made him look cool but everyone totally made fun of him because of it… well, he drives. Not for Western Haulage, he moved outta town a few years back. But he’s got a nice house from the looks of the pictures on Facebook…”
“I know, Paiz. I know. It’s just… remember when we were growing up and we were gonna leave this place and go meet up with your cousin out in Cedar Falls and… I dunno… it was different working for my mom cuz it always felt temporary. Just a way to hang out and make money while I decide what to do. But this job, driving a truck, it’ll… I worry that it’s like I’ll be deciding ‘this is who I am now’. And that person will be someone who drives trucks and this just isn’t how I pictured things going when we talked about leaving for Cedar Rapids…”
“You are weirdly philosophical at times Nor. You think about things way too much”
Unbeknownst to Paisley, this was something that Nora was aware of. In fact, this was something that Nora thought about way too much, before starting to think about how she was thinking too much about how she was thinking too much. It wasn’t deliberate or premeditated. Her mind just took the scenic route to any conclusion, often stopping to enjoy the scenery before getting there. Or maybe she was just overthinking things when she reached that conclusion.
Paisley, Nora had long concluded, was never partial to such ruminatory detours. She never really spent much time thinking about how much time she spent thinking about things, but it is safe to say that, were she to do so, then the conclusion would be that she spent very little time thinking about such things. It wasn’t that she was dumb, it’s just that her eyes focused on the things in front of her, and her mind did the same.
Nora never thought this as a sign that Paisley was lesser or not as smart. In some ways, it seemed a virtue, to go along in the direction that life pulled her without stopping to ponder why and whether there. On the other hand, Nora was also self-aware enough to know that she was lying to herself when she thought this, and that her superior self-awareness was a reason why she did think she was better than Paisley. But everyone did that, didn’t they? Everyone thought that they were smarter than everyone. What’s the alternative? Thinking other people are right, and you are wrong? If you thought that, if you thought you were wrong, then why were you thinking it? Surely just think the thing that you think is right, instead?
“I mean… is working in QC at Wells’ what you always thought you’d be doing?” Nora retorted, now looking at pictures of an old flame with a new partner who had the same haircut that she did. They must have a type.
“So you do know what I do at Well’s?”
“Yeah, I guess. Just don’t tell anyone. I wanna come across as cool and disinterested” Nora smirked as she said it, desperately looking at her screen so she didn’t fully crack into a smile. “Anyway, at least you get to eat ice cream for a living”.
“Well… actually… QC don’t get to eat the ice cream”
Nora looked up at this.
“What the fuck? Why not?”
“It’s just testing it. I just do the visual checks on deliveries from other suppliers. No samples though. Oh my god! I just thought, you might be one of the people who makes deliveries to us? I might have to check your stock!” Paisley beamed.
“Does everything you say have to sound like an innuendo? People are gonna think you’re into me” Nora’s attention was back on her phone.
“Me checking your stock is not an innuendo. Says more about you than it does about me that your brain went there”
“No it doesn’t!”
“You’re seriously defensive every time I mention we should be gay lovers?”
“I’m not! Oh fuck… you just did what my dad does!”
“Your dad thinks we should be gay lovers?”
“No, he… always sets me up by saying I’m argumentative or defensive and if I say ‘no’ it just proves his…” Nora looked up, to see Paisley smirking at her. Nora’s cheeks were red and she realised that she actually was getting worked up this time. Maybe Nora wasn’t as self-aware as she thought. Maybe Paisley was more self-aware than she thought. But here Nora was again, arguing that she wasn’t arguing.
But this was Paisley all over. The little sister she never had. Or she would have been, if Leanne wasn’t the little sister that she did have. Paisley was not as smart or reflective, not as tall nor as pretty, not as old, not as wise. But she was loyal and funny and breezy and cute. 5ft1 and still the same amount of soft chunkiness that she’d possessed since the days of ditching math to avoid Mrs Tyler and her missing front tooth. Paisley had chipmunk cheeks and a muffintop regardless of what she chose to wear. And she had long hair that was brown like Nora. But not brown like Nora because Nora’s was chestnut and mahogany, while Paisley’s was more dead moss. But cute though, although Nora didn’t possess enough self-awareness over the extent that she felt that way.
“One good thing about working at Wells’... I get employee discount” Paisley smiled, and those chipmunk cheeks reemerged. “So you know what that means?”
“That purchases made by employees are at a price reduced by a certain fraction?”
“It means that, after this shift, we should totally get ice cream”
 

Chapter 1
 

“You got that, Nora?”
“Busy”
“You actually busy, or just on your phone?”
“Fine… I’ll get it”
Nora’s shoulders slumped lower than their already deflated default as she pulled herself off the stool in the corner of the store to greet the customer. A stool that was originally for Betty Reynolds when she worked in the store. Before her stroke. She was never very good on her legs was Betty. Nora had since claimed the three-legged thing as her own on quiet days. Which were most days. Thank god for Betty’s stroke.
“Hi, welcome to Mattie’s Fabrics, how can I help you today?” she sing-sang to the customer while not really making much in the way of eye-contact with the customer. The worst thing about working in retail, ask anybody, is the customers. And the pay. And all of it really.
“You got any sheets of linen? I’m sewing a dress together and…”
“Color?”
“Oh… ummm… do you have egg-shell or ivory?” the customer asked. Some old woman, Nora had seen her about from time to time. She’d seen most people around from time to time. After all, the town of Le Mars, Iowa, was only so big and not a million miles away from the middle of nowhere. A few thousand faces stuck on repeat, endlessly recycled on a loop like the stock faces in a computer game. Le Mars. Where dreams go to whither and people go to die. Which sucked for someone like Nora, who was born and raised there.
“Yeah, sure. We call it beige but…”
“Oh no, not beige. What about off-white or…”
“No, you want beige. Beige is off-white. Beige is ivory and beige is egg-shell. And it’s also desert sand and ecru and cosmic latte and tuscan and unbleached silk… it’s all the same color, ma’am. Just with fancier names. A million ways to say beige. So… you good with beige? Ma’am?”
“I’ll… I’ll maybe try elsewhere” the old lady said, scuttling off out the shop. Nora rolled her eyes. There was nowhere else. This was Le Mars. There was only one fabric shop, ailing and bare, and she was working in it. You could try Sioux City but that was half an hour away by car and longer by bus. And all because this customer was too arrogant to deal with a word like beige. Nora didn’t get it. Had she not seen the color of this entire town?
“Did you scare away another customer?”
“Come on! You heard her, Paisley, she was being an ass”
“That’s Mrs. Dover. The pastor’s wife. Leads the choir. If someone was being  ass, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Mrs. Dover. If I tell your mom that you’re the reason that this place is closing down...”
“Whatever… narc” Nora spat her tongue out as she smiled, before climbing back onto her stool and staring at her phone again.
Nora wasn’t the reason that Mattie’s Fabrics was going under. The 21st Century was the reason that Mattie’s Fabrics was going under. The 21st Century with its rise of online shopping and with its steady decline of main streets and anything outside the big coastal cities. The 21st Century with its disdain for those content just to eke out a living. The 21st Century that had no time for self-made items using russet fabrics and cotton fabrics. Nora’s cynicism barely left an imprint, drowned out by the looming shadow of modernity and time.
“Anyway, how is your mom? Still down about it or…?”
“Yeah. Still down about it. Got a house full of people saying nothing. Dad quiet cuz mom’s quiet. Leanne’s quiet cuz dad’s quiet. And I’m quiet cuz... I hate it there” Nora grumbled, while typing some comment to a Facebook post that she didn’t care about. Her sister posting about sports that she didn’t watch but her fiance did so she felt she’d best keep up experiences. Her boss from her first job complaining about Hilary Clinton’s involvement in a prostitution ring. Jasmine from across the road showing pictures of her youngest’s first steps. Though, given that she’d had five kids already, surely the novelty should have worn off by now? Nora scrolled through it all, the blue and white just giving her eyes something to do rather than explicitly entertain her.
“Hey… you okay? It must be tough for you, Nor”
She walked up to her and put an arm around Nora’s shoulder in sympathy, leaning their heads against one another like they were shaped specially for that purpose. Both of them just stayed in silence for a bit. It’s not like the place was busy.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. But Paisley… thanks”
Nora smiled at Paisley kindly, and their eyes lingered against one another for another few moments.
“Hey, you’re my best friend, and also my only friend but that’s not important, and I’ll do anything for you. Including the sex” Paisley smirked, and Nora pulled away with a giggle.
“You are gross”
“I just wanna do the sex with you”
“Stop it!”
“You know I wanna have the sex with you”
“Stop calling it ‘the sex’. And also stop talking about us having sex. Both of those things”
“How about a 69?”
“That… that’s still sex”
“A 96?”
“That’s the same thing! Just a made up name for the same thing!”
“Like calling egg-white beige?”
“Exactly like calling egg-white beige!”

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Nora and Paisley had been friends since the days of Le Mars Community Middle School, and through to Le Mars Community High School. Ever since Mr Durant had that emotional breakdown that everyone still talks about and the police had to be called, and Nora had to console a crying Paisley in the corner of Miss Derby’s classroom. Or was it Mr Coffrey’s classroom back then? Either way, Paisley was a year younger and half a foot shorter, but they bonded that day, possibly over the shared trauma, and just never got around to un-bonding. Who else was there to bond with around these parts? Jasmine and her never-ending procession of children? No thank you.
So Nora was like an older sister to Paisley, and Paisley was the younger sister to Nora. The Samwys to her Frodo, the Samwell to her Job Snow. Nora even got the girl that job at her mom’s store. It was just the way of things, and nobody paid it much thought. And Paisley was useful to have around. Her parents could never complain about their daughter for anything, because everything that Nora was bad at, Paisley was worse. Like a wingwoman, but for nagging parents. It wasn’t the reason that Nora liked Paisley, but it wasn’t a bad side-effect.
They were now in their mid-20s and their friendship was the best thing about every day for Nora. In fact, the only good thing. Work was a soul-sapping exercise - she hated the busy days because they were busy and she hated the quiet days because they weren’t. Worse still, work was only a soul-sapping exercise in the short term. Her mom was having to close the store at the end of the month. It was either that or lose the house. So the store went, and so did 30 years of hard work and pride and being integral to the community. Nobody bought raw materials any more, every piece of clothing always came ready-made. Why put in the effort, when somebody else would do it for you? The residents of Le Mars weren’t fans of SE Asian sweatshops exactly, but they didn’t mind the convenience, if they were being honest. The only generation that believed in self-repair and sewing and such things had hands too arthritic to carry it out. The fad of young people taking up such hobbies as sewing and knitting only applied to the cities, where the hipsters and all their various beard oils were, a million miles away.
Neither Paisley nor Nora knew what to do after the place closed. They’d worked there since high school, sitting around and occasionally ushering someone towards the satin section. Without the place, there weren’t a whole heap of options without a hefty commute. The two biggest employers in town were Wells’ Ice Cream Manufacturing Plant, and Western Haulage. Both were mainstays of the town. Molly’s mom worked at Wells’, and both Terri and Terry had dads’ work for Western Haulage. Years ago, the town’s mayor had dubbed Le Mars “The Ice Cream Capital of the World”. It’s true, look it up. Sure, this is despite Napoli existing. And sure, there was only a single ice cream plant. But the mayor’s self-anointing was more wishful thinking than reality, and it looked good on the signs. There had been talk for years about a second factory. It was the sort of thing politicians would promise on the campaign trail near election time and then not deliver so that they could promise it again at the next election. Iowa got a lot of those.  But that only really left Wells’, dairy farm work or the trucking company.
Both girls applied for jobs at both places, sending a resume listing a thin smattering of achievements - Mattie’s Fabrics, a high school diploma, JV softball and the 4-H Club - but both girls secretly hoped for neither job. They probably would recognise half the people there - didn’t Tina go back to working at the factory after her family farm went under? - but they would be the people who didn’t make it. Who got left behind in place and time, in Le Mars, Iowa. A factory drone sounded more soul-sapping than Mattie’s Fabrics, and life as a trucker was not how they’d hoped to spend their days either. But it was what it was.
A third option was Melville. Or so the two girls liked to joke. He was in the same year at High School as Nora and had liked her ever since. Nora wasn’t the school’s queen bee or anything, but she had always been easy to fall for. Even 10 years later. She’d always attracted attention, never really seeking it but never really minding it either. Her 5’7” made her tall, but not in a particularly noticeable way. Her hair, a side-parted brown bob that was once longer, was again trendy without setting the world alight. Her figure, 150lbs spread evenly and without any underlying agenda, had curves to keep the eyes of passers-by occupied without ever being enough to seem dramatic. And her smile was friendly and warm, without flaw but without sheen. It all left her exactly as she wanted to be. Attractive, but without being the talk of the town.
Melville, on the other hand, was talk of the town. Not for his looks, mind you. Unfortunately for him, he was cursed with a face that looked hand-drawn by a toddler and a level of asymmetry that challenged the most seasoned geometrist. Nor was it for his character, an unassuming but likeable sort as most with Picasso-esque faces so often tend to be. No, the most notable fact about Melville was that time he won the state lottery, making him technically a millionaire, though $1.2 million (after taxes) was realistically enough to live no more lavishly than a schoolteacher when collected over a lifetime. But his millionaire status made him a interesting “plan B” for Nora, even if he did look like he was designed in the dark.
The bitter irony was that it was Melville and Paisley that had been friends back at school. They hung out in the emo corner, listening to Fall Out Boy and Paisley even tried dying her black once but it made her scalp itch so badly that it was never attempted nor spoked of again. Paisley wasn’t emo in personality, and she had long behind left the dark eye make-up, but Nora had known even then why Paisley wore only the blackest blacks. Because Paisley, even back then, was a chunky kid, and emo was just a place that ugly kids and chubby kids hung out. Nowadays, they just lived in Le Mars for that.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

“Someone’s got the holler tail” Nora’s dad said, not even looking up from the business section of the local paper. He only really cared for the sports pages, truth be known, but he read the whole thing so as to get his money’s worth.
“No, I don’t” Nora grumbled, grabbing a slice of toast as she walked towards the door.
“Sure sounds that way”
Nora sighed. She hated it when she was accused of being in a bad mood. How do you respond? You say ‘no’, and it sounds argumentative, proving their point. But if you say ‘yes’, then you are agreeing with their point. There was no answer to the question that wouldn’t vindicate her dad’s accusation. And, to make matters worse, he was right. She was in a foul mood.
“I have a job interview…” Nora admitted.
“Well, that’s the best bad news I’ve ever heard!” he said, finally looking up.
“...to drive trucks. Long-haul trucking. Can you imagine? Me, doing that? Smelling of diesel? Even the job at Well’s Ice Cream plant sounded better than that. Plus, Paisley got a job at Wells’, they offered it to her today. I don’t know why they would hire her and not me. No offense to Paisley…”
Her dad had been the one who had suggested applying to Western. He knew a guy, he said, which came as a shock to nobody since what middle-aged man from Le Mars, Iowa -did not know a guy at Western Haulage. Back when he was at Le Mars Community High School, several from his class ended up there. And then there was John, one of his Friday night bowling buddies, though they’d stopped hanging out of late. John hasn’t been the same since his wife had that stroke. He really should check in on him, make sure he’s doing okay. Maybe invite him round to watch football. Or go over there, and watch the game with John’s surround-sound system. Good karma, good football and surround-sound? There were worse ways of spending an evening.
“I don’t know. One look at your resume and I’d have done the same. Only one job, and at the place owned by your mom? Yeah, I’d have taken one look and thought ‘nepotism’” Her dad told her, before pushing his eyes back down. The horoscope section. The section where getting your moneys-worth out of a paper was hardest. He never believed such things. But then again, he never believed in driverless cars and apparently they were testing them now so maybe he should keep an open mind. And, as an Aquarius, he was the most open-minded star sign after all.
“Thanks dad” Nora rolled her eyes.
“Not a criticism. Just an observation. I know how these people work. How they think. And they’d look at you and see a no-hoper with a CV” he said, sipping his morning coffee. His wife glared at him. “But, of course, it’s not true and they don’t know what a wonderful woman they’re missing out on”.
“Yeah, that was too little too late dad. Anyway, I should probably be leaving. Gonna ask Paisley on interviewing tips, since I clearly suck and she’s clearly better than me” Nora grumbled.
“You don’t need any tips honey, I’m sure you’re wonderful. But make sure you’re back by 7… your uncle’s coming over for dinner” her mom added, as she applied make-up. Another meeting with the bank manager down in Sioux City. Not only did they have to take her business from her, they also needed thousands of mind-numbing meetings to do it.
“The creepy uncle? Or the really creepy uncle?”
“Don’t call them that. Your Uncle Johnny’s not too bad, as long as we’re in the room. But it’s Alan this time, so maybe get back a bit earlier than 7 so you can change into something more conservative. Anyway, I have to scoot off but I’ll catch you two later. And when’s your interview Nora?”
“Wednesday… if I go”
“Oh don’t be silly honey. It’ll be fine. If it’s not meant to be, you won’t get it. And if it is, you will. And doesn’t that girl from your year drive trucks? The one with the braces?” her mom said as she headed to the door.
“Marie-anne hasn’t worn braces in ten years. And she delivers things to people who shop online. It’s a bit different from long-distance trucking. And she was in Leanne’s year, not mine. But apart from that, you got it in one, mom!” Nora said, but her mom was already out the door.
“And you will turn up at that interview Nora. Otherwise everyone in town will think of you as the kind of woman who doesn’t turn up to interviews and you don’t want that, do you? And then nobody will hire you. Trust me, I know how these people think” her dad continued, eyes focused as he finally reached the sports section. At last, where the actual good stuff was. And it was just as well, because Nora too had left for whatever it was she had said she was planning on doing. Leaving him in peace with the best section of the paper. Sometimes, you gotta enjoy the good stuff when it hits.
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“I’m so sorry Nora, I honestly thought they’d give you the job” Paisley said as Nora sat herself back down on her usual stool in Mattie’s Fabrics for the last time. It was the last day of trading, the closing down sale had proven to be enough of a hit that they were actually closing three days earlier than planned. Which was good? Or bad? It was hard to tell really.
“Oh no, they offered me the job. It’s mine if I want it. I’m just pissed cuz it’s… like, me, driving a truck? Why couldn’t I work with you? I’d be so good at… doing whatever it is you’re gonna do. Making ice cream?” Nora scrunched her face up, not really remembering.
“You landed a decent job in this town and you’re still being a little bitch about it? Nor, you are ridiculous at times!” Paisley threw one of the biros from behind the desk at her friend, who flinched to such an extent that she nearly toppled.
“Trucking, though?”
“Sounds bad-ass if you ask me. No cars on the road getting in your way in a truck. Plus, you’d get to travel. Sorta. Get outta this town. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”
“Yeah. I guess” Nora’s shoulders slumped, eyes on her phone again. Jasmine was on her Facebook feed, talking about maybe trying for another kid. Wasn’t six enough? Everyone in the comments was really supportive but they all must have been thinking that.
And was it what she wanted? Driving a truck and getting outta Le Mars? It wasn’t how she’d always seen things going. She didn’t think it was beneath her, but… well, she did think it was beneath her, but didn’t want to be a bitch about it so she stuffed that thought to the back of her head. And maybe Paisley was right? Travelling sounded good. Showing the guys that she could do it just as well as they could, despite being a proud 27 year old woman and not a, old dad-bodded 45 year old man who racks up a DUI every Christmas, making him late to pick up the kids. 27 years old, meant she was young still, she was pretty sure. But was she just the lower end of middle-aged? Her parents kept hassling her over settling down with somebody - “didn’t that Melville like you? He’s not the best looking but he’d keep you right” - and if it wasn’t 27, then when was it? 28? 30? So many questions in Nora’s head, and not really the desire to answer them.
“Plus, I bet you get paid well. Ronnie from my year…”
“One of the emo ones?”
“Yeah, he had that cheap leather coat that he thought made him look cool but everyone totally made fun of him because of it… well, he drives. Not for Western Haulage, he moved outta town a few years back. But he’s got a nice house from the looks of the pictures on Facebook…”
“I know, Paiz. I know. It’s just… remember when we were growing up and we were gonna leave this place and go meet up with your cousin out in Cedar Falls and… I dunno… it was different working for my mom cuz it always felt temporary. Just a way to hang out and make money while I decide what to do. But this job, driving a truck, it’ll… I worry that it’s like I’ll be deciding ‘this is who I am now’. And that person will be someone who drives trucks and this just isn’t how I pictured things going when we talked about leaving for Cedar Rapids…”
“You are weirdly philosophical at times Nor. You think about things way too much”
Unbeknownst to Paisley, this was something that Nora was aware of. In fact, this was something that Nora thought about way too much, before starting to think about how she was thinking too much about how she was thinking too much. It wasn’t deliberate or premeditated. Her mind just took the scenic route to any conclusion, often stopping to enjoy the scenery before getting there. Or maybe she was just overthinking things when she reached that conclusion.
Paisley, Nora had long concluded, was never partial to such ruminatory detours. She never really spent much time thinking about how much time she spent thinking about things, but it is safe to say that, were she to do so, then the conclusion would be that she spent very little time thinking about such things. It wasn’t that she was dumb, it’s just that her eyes focused on the things in front of her, and her mind did the same.
Nora never thought this as a sign that Paisley was lesser or not as smart. In some ways, it seemed a virtue, to go along in the direction that life pulled her without stopping to ponder why and whether there. On the other hand, Nora was also self-aware enough to know that she was lying to herself when she thought this, and that her superior self-awareness was a reason why she did think she was better than Paisley. But everyone did that, didn’t they? Everyone thought that they were smarter than everyone. What’s the alternative? Thinking other people are right, and you are wrong? If you thought that, if you thought you were wrong, then why were you thinking it? Surely just think the thing that you think is right, instead?
“I mean… is working in QC at Wells’ what you always thought you’d be doing?” Nora retorted, now looking at pictures of an old flame with a new partner who had the same haircut that she did. They must have a type.
“So you do know what I do at Well’s?”
“Yeah, I guess. Just don’t tell anyone. I wanna come across as cool and disinterested” Nora smirked as she said it, desperately looking at her screen so she didn’t fully crack into a smile. “Anyway, at least you get to eat ice cream for a living”.
“Well… actually… QC don’t get to eat the ice cream”
Nora looked up at this.
“What the fuck? Why not?”
“It’s just testing it. I just do the visual checks on deliveries from other suppliers. No samples though. Oh my god! I just thought, you might be one of the people who makes deliveries to us? I might have to check your stock!” Paisley beamed.
“Does everything you say have to sound like an innuendo? People are gonna think you’re into me” Nora’s attention was back on her phone.
“Me checking your stock is not an innuendo. Says more about you than it does about me that your brain went there”
“No it doesn’t!”
“You’re seriously defensive every time I mention we should be gay lovers?”
“I’m not! Oh fuck… you just did what my dad does!”
“Your dad thinks we should be gay lovers?”
“No, he… always sets me up by saying I’m argumentative or defensive and if I say ‘no’ it just proves his…” Nora looked up, to see Paisley smirking at her. Nora’s cheeks were red and she realised that she actually was getting worked up this time. Maybe Nora wasn’t as self-aware as she thought. Maybe Paisley was more self-aware than she thought. But here Nora was again, arguing that she wasn’t arguing.
But this was Paisley all over. The little sister she never had. Or she would have been, if Leanne wasn’t the little sister that she did have. Paisley was not as smart or reflective, not as tall nor as pretty, not as old, not as wise. But she was loyal and funny and breezy and cute. 5ft1 and still the same amount of soft chunkiness that she’d possessed since the days of ditching math to avoid Mrs Tyler and her missing front tooth. Paisley had chipmunk cheeks and a muffintop regardless of what she chose to wear. And she had long hair that was brown like Nora. But not brown like Nora because Nora’s was chestnut and mahogany, while Paisley’s was more dead moss. But cute though, although Nora didn’t possess enough self-awareness over the extent that she felt that way.
“One good thing about working at Wells’... I get employee discount” Paisley smiled, and those chipmunk cheeks reemerged. “So you know what that means?”
“That purchases made by employees are at a price reduced by a certain fraction?”
“It means that, after this shift, we should totally get ice cream”
 

Chapter 1
 

“You got that, Nora?”
“Busy”
“You actually busy, or just on your phone?”
“Fine… I’ll get it”
Nora’s shoulders slumped lower than their already deflated default as she pulled herself off the stool in the corner of the store to greet the customer. A stool that was originally for Betty Reynolds when she worked in the store. Before her stroke. She was never very good on her legs was Betty. Nora had since claimed the three-legged thing as her own on quiet days. Which were most days. Thank god for Betty’s stroke.
“Hi, welcome to Mattie’s Fabrics, how can I help you today?” she sing-sang to the customer while not really making much in the way of eye-contact with the customer. The worst thing about working in retail, ask anybody, is the customers. And the pay. And all of it really.
“You got any sheets of linen? I’m sewing a dress together and…”
“Color?”
“Oh… ummm… do you have egg-shell or ivory?” the customer asked. Some old woman, Nora had seen her about from time to time. She’d seen most people around from time to time. After all, the town of Le Mars, Iowa, was only so big and not a million miles away from the middle of nowhere. A few thousand faces stuck on repeat, endlessly recycled on a loop like the stock faces in a computer game. Le Mars. Where dreams go to whither and people go to die. Which sucked for someone like Nora, who was born and raised there.
“Yeah, sure. We call it beige but…”
“Oh no, not beige. What about off-white or…”
“No, you want beige. Beige is off-white. Beige is ivory and beige is egg-shell. And it’s also desert sand and ecru and cosmic latte and tuscan and unbleached silk… it’s all the same color, ma’am. Just with fancier names. A million ways to say beige. So… you good with beige? Ma’am?”
“I’ll… I’ll maybe try elsewhere” the old lady said, scuttling off out the shop. Nora rolled her eyes. There was nowhere else. This was Le Mars. There was only one fabric shop, ailing and bare, and she was working in it. You could try Sioux City but that was half an hour away by car and longer by bus. And all because this customer was too arrogant to deal with a word like beige. Nora didn’t get it. Had she not seen the color of this entire town?
“Did you scare away another customer?”
“Come on! You heard her, Paisley, she was being an ass”
“That’s Mrs. Dover. The pastor’s wife. Leads the choir. If someone was being  ass, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Mrs. Dover. If I tell your mom that you’re the reason that this place is closing down...”
“Whatever… narc” Nora spat her tongue out as she smiled, before climbing back onto her stool and staring at her phone again.
Nora wasn’t the reason that Mattie’s Fabrics was going under. The 21st Century was the reason that Mattie’s Fabrics was going under. The 21st Century with its rise of online shopping and with its steady decline of main streets and anything outside the big coastal cities. The 21st Century with its disdain for those content just to eke out a living. The 21st Century that had no time for self-made items using russet fabrics and cotton fabrics. Nora’s cynicism barely left an imprint, drowned out by the looming shadow of modernity and time.
“Anyway, how is your mom? Still down about it or…?”
“Yeah. Still down about it. Got a house full of people saying nothing. Dad quiet cuz mom’s quiet. Leanne’s quiet cuz dad’s quiet. And I’m quiet cuz... I hate it there” Nora grumbled, while typing some comment to a Facebook post that she didn’t care about. Her sister posting about sports that she didn’t watch but her fiance did so she felt she’d best keep up experiences. Her boss from her first job complaining about Hilary Clinton’s involvement in a prostitution ring. Jasmine from across the road showing pictures of her youngest’s first steps. Though, given that she’d had five kids already, surely the novelty should have worn off by now? Nora scrolled through it all, the blue and white just giving her eyes something to do rather than explicitly entertain her.
“Hey… you okay? It must be tough for you, Nor”
She walked up to her and put an arm around Nora’s shoulder in sympathy, leaning their heads against one another like they were shaped specially for that purpose. Both of them just stayed in silence for a bit. It’s not like the place was busy.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. But Paisley… thanks”
Nora smiled at Paisley kindly, and their eyes lingered against one another for another few moments.
“Hey, you’re my best friend, and also my only friend but that’s not important, and I’ll do anything for you. Including the sex” Paisley smirked, and Nora pulled away with a giggle.
“You are gross”
“I just wanna do the sex with you”
“Stop it!”
“You know I wanna have the sex with you”
“Stop calling it ‘the sex’. And also stop talking about us having sex. Both of those things”
“How about a 69?”
“That… that’s still sex”
“A 96?”
“That’s the same thing! Just a made up name for the same thing!”
“Like calling egg-white beige?”
“Exactly like calling egg-white beige!”

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Nora and Paisley had been friends since the days of Le Mars Community Middle School, and through to Le Mars Community High School. Ever since Mr Durant had that emotional breakdown that everyone still talks about and the police had to be called, and Nora had to console a crying Paisley in the corner of Miss Derby’s classroom. Or was it Mr Coffrey’s classroom back then? Either way, Paisley was a year younger and half a foot shorter, but they bonded that day, possibly over the shared trauma, and just never got around to un-bonding. Who else was there to bond with around these parts? Jasmine and her never-ending procession of children? No thank you.
So Nora was like an older sister to Paisley, and Paisley was the younger sister to Nora. The Samwys to her Frodo, the Samwell to her Job Snow. Nora even got the girl that job at her mom’s store. It was just the way of things, and nobody paid it much thought. And Paisley was useful to have around. Her parents could never complain about their daughter for anything, because everything that Nora was bad at, Paisley was worse. Like a wingwoman, but for nagging parents. It wasn’t the reason that Nora liked Paisley, but it wasn’t a bad side-effect.
They were now in their mid-20s and their friendship was the best thing about every day for Nora. In fact, the only good thing. Work was a soul-sapping exercise - she hated the busy days because they were busy and she hated the quiet days because they weren’t. Worse still, work was only a soul-sapping exercise in the short term. Her mom was having to close the store at the end of the month. It was either that or lose the house. So the store went, and so did 30 years of hard work and pride and being integral to the community. Nobody bought raw materials any more, every piece of clothing always came ready-made. Why put in the effort, when somebody else would do it for you? The residents of Le Mars weren’t fans of SE Asian sweatshops exactly, but they didn’t mind the convenience, if they were being honest. The only generation that believed in self-repair and sewing and such things had hands too arthritic to carry it out. The fad of young people taking up such hobbies as sewing and knitting only applied to the cities, where the hipsters and all their various beard oils were, a million miles away.
Neither Paisley nor Nora knew what to do after the place closed. They’d worked there since high school, sitting around and occasionally ushering someone towards the satin section. Without the place, there weren’t a whole heap of options without a hefty commute. The two biggest employers in town were Wells’ Ice Cream Manufacturing Plant, and Western Haulage. Both were mainstays of the town. Molly’s mom worked at Wells’, and both Terri and Terry had dads’ work for Western Haulage. Years ago, the town’s mayor had dubbed Le Mars “The Ice Cream Capital of the World”. It’s true, look it up. Sure, this is despite Napoli existing. And sure, there was only a single ice cream plant. But the mayor’s self-anointing was more wishful thinking than reality, and it looked good on the signs. There had been talk for years about a second factory. It was the sort of thing politicians would promise on the campaign trail near election time and then not deliver so that they could promise it again at the next election. Iowa got a lot of those.  But that only really left Wells’, dairy farm work or the trucking company.
Both girls applied for jobs at both places, sending a resume listing a thin smattering of achievements - Mattie’s Fabrics, a high school diploma, JV softball and the 4-H Club - but both girls secretly hoped for neither job. They probably would recognise half the people there - didn’t Tina go back to working at the factory after her family farm went under? - but they would be the people who didn’t make it. Who got left behind in place and time, in Le Mars, Iowa. A factory drone sounded more soul-sapping than Mattie’s Fabrics, and life as a trucker was not how they’d hoped to spend their days either. But it was what it was.
A third option was Melville. Or so the two girls liked to joke. He was in the same year at High School as Nora and had liked her ever since. Nora wasn’t the school’s queen bee or anything, but she had always been easy to fall for. Even 10 years later. She’d always attracted attention, never really seeking it but never really minding it either. Her 5’7” made her tall, but not in a particularly noticeable way. Her hair, a side-parted brown bob that was once longer, was again trendy without setting the world alight. Her figure, 150lbs spread evenly and without any underlying agenda, had curves to keep the eyes of passers-by occupied without ever being enough to seem dramatic. And her smile was friendly and warm, without flaw but without sheen. It all left her exactly as she wanted to be. Attractive, but without being the talk of the town.
Melville, on the other hand, was talk of the town. Not for his looks, mind you. Unfortunately for him, he was cursed with a face that looked hand-drawn by a toddler and a level of asymmetry that challenged the most seasoned geometrist. Nor was it for his character, an unassuming but likeable sort as most with Picasso-esque faces so often tend to be. No, the most notable fact about Melville was that time he won the state lottery, making him technically a millionaire, though $1.2 million (after taxes) was realistically enough to live no more lavishly than a schoolteacher when collected over a lifetime. But his millionaire status made him a interesting “plan B” for Nora, even if he did look like he was designed in the dark.
The bitter irony was that it was Melville and Paisley that had been friends back at school. They hung out in the emo corner, listening to Fall Out Boy and Paisley even tried dying her black once but it made her scalp itch so badly that it was never attempted nor spoked of again. Paisley wasn’t emo in personality, and she had long behind left the dark eye make-up, but Nora had known even then why Paisley wore only the blackest blacks. Because Paisley, even back then, was a chunky kid, and emo was just a place that ugly kids and chubby kids hung out. Nowadays, they just lived in Le Mars for that.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

“Someone’s got the holler tail” Nora’s dad said, not even looking up from the business section of the local paper. He only really cared for the sports pages, truth be known, but he read the whole thing so as to get his money’s worth.
“No, I don’t” Nora grumbled, grabbing a slice of toast as she walked towards the door.
“Sure sounds that way”
Nora sighed. She hated it when she was accused of being in a bad mood. How do you respond? You say ‘no’, and it sounds argumentative, proving their point. But if you say ‘yes’, then you are agreeing with their point. There was no answer to the question that wouldn’t vindicate her dad’s accusation. And, to make matters worse, he was right. She was in a foul mood.
“I have a job interview…” Nora admitted.
“Well, that’s the best bad news I’ve ever heard!” he said, finally looking up.
“...to drive trucks. Long-haul trucking. Can you imagine? Me, doing that? Smelling of diesel? Even the job at Well’s Ice Cream plant sounded better than that. Plus, Paisley got a job at Wells’, they offered it to her today. I don’t know why they would hire her and not me. No offense to Paisley…”
Her dad had been the one who had suggested applying to Western. He knew a guy, he said, which came as a shock to nobody since what middle-aged man from Le Mars, Iowa -did not know a guy at Western Haulage. Back when he was at Le Mars Community High School, several from his class ended up there. And then there was John, one of his Friday night bowling buddies, though they’d stopped hanging out of late. John hasn’t been the same since his wife had that stroke. He really should check in on him, make sure he’s doing okay. Maybe invite him round to watch football. Or go over there, and watch the game with John’s surround-sound system. Good karma, good football and surround-sound? There were worse ways of spending an evening.
“I don’t know. One look at your resume and I’d have done the same. Only one job, and at the place owned by your mom? Yeah, I’d have taken one look and thought ‘nepotism’” Her dad told her, before pushing his eyes back down. The horoscope section. The section where getting your moneys-worth out of a paper was hardest. He never believed such things. But then again, he never believed in driverless cars and apparently they were testing them now so maybe he should keep an open mind. And, as an Aquarius, he was the most open-minded star sign after all.
“Thanks dad” Nora rolled her eyes.
“Not a criticism. Just an observation. I know how these people work. How they think. And they’d look at you and see a no-hoper with a CV” he said, sipping his morning coffee. His wife glared at him. “But, of course, it’s not true and they don’t know what a wonderful woman they’re missing out on”.
“Yeah, that was too little too late dad. Anyway, I should probably be leaving. Gonna ask Paisley on interviewing tips, since I clearly suck and she’s clearly better than me” Nora grumbled.
“You don’t need any tips honey, I’m sure you’re wonderful. But make sure you’re back by 7… your uncle’s coming over for dinner” her mom added, as she applied make-up. Another meeting with the bank manager down in Sioux City. Not only did they have to take her business from her, they also needed thousands of mind-numbing meetings to do it.
“The creepy uncle? Or the really creepy uncle?”
“Don’t call them that. Your Uncle Johnny’s not too bad, as long as we’re in the room. But it’s Alan this time, so maybe get back a bit earlier than 7 so you can change into something more conservative. Anyway, I have to scoot off but I’ll catch you two later. And when’s your interview Nora?”
“Wednesday… if I go”
“Oh don’t be silly honey. It’ll be fine. If it’s not meant to be, you won’t get it. And if it is, you will. And doesn’t that girl from your year drive trucks? The one with the braces?” her mom said as she headed to the door.
“Marie-anne hasn’t worn braces in ten years. And she delivers things to people who shop online. It’s a bit different from long-distance trucking. And she was in Leanne’s year, not mine. But apart from that, you got it in one, mom!” Nora said, but her mom was already out the door.
“And you will turn up at that interview Nora. Otherwise everyone in town will think of you as the kind of woman who doesn’t turn up to interviews and you don’t want that, do you? And then nobody will hire you. Trust me, I know how these people think” her dad continued, eyes focused as he finally reached the sports section. At last, where the actual good stuff was. And it was just as well, because Nora too had left for whatever it was she had said she was planning on doing. Leaving him in peace with the best section of the paper. Sometimes, you gotta enjoy the good stuff when it hits.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

“I’m so sorry Nora, I honestly thought they’d give you the job” Paisley said as Nora sat herself back down on her usual stool in Mattie’s Fabrics for the last time. It was the last day of trading, the closing down sale had proven to be enough of a hit that they were actually closing three days earlier than planned. Which was good? Or bad? It was hard to tell really.
“Oh no, they offered me the job. It’s mine if I want it. I’m just pissed cuz it’s… like, me, driving a truck? Why couldn’t I work with you? I’d be so good at… doing whatever it is you’re gonna do. Making ice cream?” Nora scrunched her face up, not really remembering.
“You landed a decent job in this town and you’re still being a little bitch about it? Nor, you are ridiculous at times!” Paisley threw one of the biros from behind the desk at her friend, who flinched to such an extent that she nearly toppled.
“Trucking, though?”
“Sounds bad-ass if you ask me. No cars on the road getting in your way in a truck. Plus, you’d get to travel. Sorta. Get outta this town. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”
“Yeah. I guess” Nora’s shoulders slumped, eyes on her phone again. Jasmine was on her Facebook feed, talking about maybe trying for another kid. Wasn’t six enough? Everyone in the comments was really supportive but they all must have been thinking that.
And was it what she wanted? Driving a truck and getting outta Le Mars? It wasn’t how she’d always seen things going. She didn’t think it was beneath her, but… well, she did think it was beneath her, but didn’t want to be a bitch about it so she stuffed that thought to the back of her head. And maybe Paisley was right? Travelling sounded good. Showing the guys that she could do it just as well as they could, despite being a proud 27 year old woman and not a, old dad-bodded 45 year old man who racks up a DUI every Christmas, making him late to pick up the kids. 27 years old, meant she was young still, she was pretty sure. But was she just the lower end of middle-aged? Her parents kept hassling her over settling down with somebody - “didn’t that Melville like you? He’s not the best looking but he’d keep you right” - and if it wasn’t 27, then when was it? 28? 30? So many questions in Nora’s head, and not really the desire to answer them.
“Plus, I bet you get paid well. Ronnie from my year…”
“One of the emo ones?”
“Yeah, he had that cheap leather coat that he thought made him look cool but everyone totally made fun of him because of it… well, he drives. Not for Western Haulage, he moved outta town a few years back. But he’s got a nice house from the looks of the pictures on Facebook…”
“I know, Paiz. I know. It’s just… remember when we were growing up and we were gonna leave this place and go meet up with your cousin out in Cedar Falls and… I dunno… it was different working for my mom cuz it always felt temporary. Just a way to hang out and make money while I decide what to do. But this job, driving a truck, it’ll… I worry that it’s like I’ll be deciding ‘this is who I am now’. And that person will be someone who drives trucks and this just isn’t how I pictured things going when we talked about leaving for Cedar Rapids…”
“You are weirdly philosophical at times Nor. You think about things way too much”
Unbeknownst to Paisley, this was something that Nora was aware of. In fact, this was something that Nora thought about way too much, before starting to think about how she was thinking too much about how she was thinking too much. It wasn’t deliberate or premeditated. Her mind just took the scenic route to any conclusion, often stopping to enjoy the scenery before getting there. Or maybe she was just overthinking things when she reached that conclusion.
Paisley, Nora had long concluded, was never partial to such ruminatory detours. She never really spent much time thinking about how much time she spent thinking about things, but it is safe to say that, were she to do so, then the conclusion would be that she spent very little time thinking about such things. It wasn’t that she was dumb, it’s just that her eyes focused on the things in front of her, and her mind did the same.
Nora never thought this as a sign that Paisley was lesser or not as smart. In some ways, it seemed a virtue, to go along in the direction that life pulled her without stopping to ponder why and whether there. On the other hand, Nora was also self-aware enough to know that she was lying to herself when she thought this, and that her superior self-awareness was a reason why she did think she was better than Paisley. But everyone did that, didn’t they? Everyone thought that they were smarter than everyone. What’s the alternative? Thinking other people are right, and you are wrong? If you thought that, if you thought you were wrong, then why were you thinking it? Surely just think the thing that you think is right, instead?
“I mean… is working in QC at Wells’ what you always thought you’d be doing?” Nora retorted, now looking at pictures of an old flame with a new partner who had the same haircut that she did. They must have a type.
“So you do know what I do at Well’s?”
“Yeah, I guess. Just don’t tell anyone. I wanna come across as cool and disinterested” Nora smirked as she said it, desperately looking at her screen so she didn’t fully crack into a smile. “Anyway, at least you get to eat ice cream for a living”.
“Well… actually… QC don’t get to eat the ice cream”
Nora looked up at this.
“What the fuck? Why not?”
“It’s just testing it. I just do the visual checks on deliveries from other suppliers. No samples though. Oh my god! I just thought, you might be one of the people who makes deliveries to us? I might have to check your stock!” Paisley beamed.
“Does everything you say have to sound like an innuendo? People are gonna think you’re into me” Nora’s attention was back on her phone.
“Me checking your stock is not an innuendo. Says more about you than it does about me that your brain went there”
“No it doesn’t!”
“You’re seriously defensive every time I mention we should be gay lovers?”
“I’m not! Oh fuck… you just did what my dad does!”
“Your dad thinks we should be gay lovers?”
“No, he… always sets me up by saying I’m argumentative or defensive and if I say ‘no’ it just proves his…” Nora looked up, to see Paisley smirking at her. Nora’s cheeks were red and she realised that she actually was getting worked up this time. Maybe Nora wasn’t as self-aware as she thought. Maybe Paisley was more self-aware than she thought. But here Nora was again, arguing that she wasn’t arguing.
But this was Paisley all over. The little sister she never had. Or she would have been, if Leanne wasn’t the little sister that she did have. Paisley was not as smart or reflective, not as tall nor as pretty, not as old, not as wise. But she was loyal and funny and breezy and cute. 5ft1 and still the same amount of soft chunkiness that she’d possessed since the days of ditching math to avoid Mrs Tyler and her missing front tooth. Paisley had chipmunk cheeks and a muffintop regardless of what she chose to wear. And she had long hair that was brown like Nora. But not brown like Nora because Nora’s was chestnut and mahogany, while Paisley’s was more dead moss. But cute though, although Nora didn’t possess enough self-awareness over the extent that she felt that way.
“One good thing about working at Wells’... I get employee discount” Paisley smiled, and those chipmunk cheeks reemerged. “So you know what that means?”
“That purchases made by employees are at a price reduced by a certain fraction?”
“It means that, after this shift, we should totally get ice cream”