The Flood Girls

“I’m not afraid of you, Laverna Flood.” Bert stepped out onto the porch, and Laverna found herself stumbling backward. The heat from Bert was palpable.

“You’re done,” he said. “You’re done filling my kid’s head up with nonsense. We’re trying to teach him some humility.”

Rachel peeked around Bert. Laverna was impressed that her daughter was so fearless, but she knew her attachment to Jake was a deep, unexplainable thing. Laverna could see Krystal on the couch, the baby on her lap.

“Krystal,” said Rachel. “You know this is ridiculous.” Laverna pulled Rachel back as she pled, as Bert began to clear his throat, a sound that could have been mistaken for a growl.

Bert took another step forward, and Laverna stood in front of her daughter. Bert would not dare strike Laverna Flood. She waited for Krystal to respond, barely visible in the darkened living room and the shadow of her husband.

Krystal refused to look at them. Meekly, she pulled the baby tighter and spoke through the blanket, her voice muffled, but the words rang out clear enough. “I don’t think so,” she said. “And I would prefer it if he didn’t know it was an option. I don’t want to feel guilty.”

“See?” Laverna protested. “You know how much this would mean to him.”

“The answer is no.” Bert’s face was a flame, and fittingly, he grabbed a piece of kindling from the pile beside the door. He pointed the splintered piece of wood at Laverna’s chest. “We’re trying to spend more time together as a family.”

“Jesus,” Laverna had said.

“Watch it.” Bert snapped the piece of kindling in half. Laverna flinched at the crack. “We’re circling the wagons.”

“I know an Indian,” said Laverna, and before she could lie and insist that Ronda was handy with a bow and arrow, Bert shut the door.



* * *



The Flood Girls took four vehicles to Missoula, mostly because Diane and Rachel had overpacked. Laverna reserved a block of rooms at the Thunderbird Motel, including one for Bucky, even though he did not umpire at this level. He tried to pay Laverna for his room, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Laverna trusted Bucky with Frank, and hoped he would help keep the girls in line.

At seven, Athena knocked on Laverna’s hotel room door. Laverna couldn’t fathom how this woman could have possibly saved her daughter’s life. Athena wore a black dress, and between the enormous breasts hung ropes upon ropes of necklaces. The dress was empire-waisted, the skirt full and dangling with ribbons. She looked like a fat wife of a medieval king.

“Aren’t you hot?”

“You must be Laverna,” Athena said, and pulled her into a hug.

Laverna glared at her daughter over Athena’s shoulder. “Don’t believe everything you’ve heard,” she said. Doors opened down the hallway, and the Flood Girls emerged, all of them dressed for a night on the town. Except for the Sinclairs, whom Athena was especially taken with. Although the Flood Girls were ready for dinner, they waited while Athena somehow sweet-talked the Sinclairs into lip gloss and chignons. They refused to abandon the jean skirts.

At a Mexican restaurant, Laverna grew entranced with Athena, and the margaritas. She never blended drinks at the Dirty Shame, because it was too much work, but this was something to reconsider.

Halfway through her third margarita, Laverna told Athena the entire story of Jim Number Three, and grew a little weepy. A waiter made the mistake of approaching her.

“I’m really sorry, but dogs aren’t allowed in here.” The waiter, a pudgy brown-faced man, pointed at Frank, curled up between Laverna’s heels.

“Fuck you,” said Laverna. “Your people eat dogs.”

“That’s Koreans, ma’am.”

Laverna slammed her fist on the table. The waiter took a step backward; Athena jumped from the table and reasoned with him, gesturing around the room at the lack of customers, at the banquettes filled with paired members of the softball team. Frank was allowed to stay.

Rachel sat with Bucky at another table, and Laverna caught her rolling her eyes. She threw a balled-up napkin across the restaurant, and it landed in Rachel’s enchiladas.

Laverna was hopped up on tequila. She hollered across the room. “Athena says that my break up with Jim Number Three is symptomatic of my low self-esteem!”

“You don’t have low self-esteem,” said Rachel. “I’m pretty sure about that.”

“She said that I push people away before they can hurt me,” shouted Laverna. Red Mabel raised a margarita in the air.

“That I agree with,” said Rachel. “Too bad you didn’t push away that Clinkenbeard kid.”

“Your mother was victimized,” said Athena. “There’s a lot of trauma there.”

“My mother has traumatized an entire town,” pointed out Rachel. “Even the children.”

“Your mother is an alpha female,” declared Athena. “I’ve never met any woman quite like her. She’s ferocious.”

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