Diary of a Mad Fat Girl (6 page)

Ethan walks me out, helps me into his truck,
and we ride in silence back to my house. His cell phone rings and
when he hangs up, he tells me that Adriana Lane, Lilly’s cousin and
head nurse of the ICU, was just quietly escorted out the back door
of the Bugtussle Memorial with her all of her personal effects.

Dr. Sebastian Rain and Mr. Richard Stacks
are big time golfing buddies and they had every intention of
sweeping this incident under the rug just like they have every
other time Chloe needed medical attention for wounds sustained
while trying to make her marriage work.

I hope Adriana Lane sues the hell out of
Bugtussle Memorial Hospital and gets filthy rich and never has to
work again. Unless she just wants to.

11

Tuesday morning I call in sick to work for
ten thousand different reasons, not the least of which is my
pounding head and aching body. I sleep the entire day away in a
pain pill induced stupor.

Wednesday morning when the alarm goes off
for the fifth time, I roll over and tell Buster Loo that I’d rather
be shot in the face as to go to work today. He snuggles down
further into the covers as if to rub it in my face that he can
spend all day in bed if he so desires. A dog’s life, indeed.

I get to school ten minutes late and wish it
would’ve been twenty. Coach Hatter is in his usual spot between our
classrooms and I can tell by the look on his face that he’s heard
all about it.

“
You alright?” he asks.

“
Fine,” I mumble. I walk in my
classroom and plop down in my chair. Coach Hatter leans against the
door frame and raises his eyebrows at me.

“
So what’d you hear?” I ask, not
really wanting to know.

“
Well,” he says, smiling a big
mischievous smile, “I heard you had a tell-all session with Brother
Berkin at the hospital, then beat one of Rich Stacks’ eyes shut.”
He starts that ridiculous sniggering and I smile despite
myself.

“
Well, Hatt, I guess that’d be one way
to put it,” I say and suddenly realize how lucky I am that Logan
Hatter’s classroom is right next door to mine. In this school, I
could do a lot worse.

“
Been a long time comin’,” he says,
shaking his head, “just didn’t think you’d be the one dolin’ it out
on him.”

“
Fuck him,” I whisper and Coach Hatter
cracks up again.

“
How’s Chloe?” he asks, looking down
at his shoes.

“
Oh God, Logan,” I say and squeeze my
eyes shut. “Oh, you don’t even want to know.”

“
She should leave him and go out with
the Sheriff,” he says.

“
Yeah, she should. Right after she
blows Richard’s worthless brains out.”

He continues to look at the floor and we
don’t say anything for a few minutes.

“
Let’s go to Ethan Allen’s tonight,
Ace, I wanna be the man on your elbow when you walk in down there.”
He pauses and looks at me sideways, “You know Ethan is just dyin’
for you to come down there and tell everybody your side of the
story. Says he can only say so much until you come in to verify the
details. I swear, he’s worse than a woman.”

“
What’s that supposed to mean, Hatt?”
I ask with mock sarcasm just as the bell rings.

“
Saved by the bell,” he chirps. “Pick
you up at eight?”

“
Maybe.”

Just before lunch, I check my email and, lo
and behold, there’s a message from the Queen of Hate herself
summoning me to her nasty little office. During lunch. Great.
Hatter will just have to tough it out again today with Coach Wills.
Ha.

When the time comes, I reluctantly
make my way up the hallway and through the commons area to the
office. When I walk into the lobby, I notice a hand-written note on
Chloe’s door and go over to inspect it.
Mrs. Stacks will be out of the office until further notice.
Please see Mrs. Marshall for all counseling issues.

Until now, the most time Chloe has ever
taken off work due to domestic violence was five consecutive days.
I think about her swollen, bruised-up face and wonder if she’ll be
back before the school year ends next month.

“
Miss Jones,” Catherine Hilliard booms
from behind me and I jump like somebody stuck a hot poker to my
ass.

“
Yes ma’am?” My stomach knots up as I
turn around.

“
In here, please,
ma’am
,” she piles on the sarcasm when she
says
ma’am
and motions me
into her office.

I sit down in a dusty, navy blue chair that
looks like it had its hey-day back when Axl Rose could still sing.
Mrs. Hilliard comes in and starts digging through a junky filing
cabinet behind her desk and pulls out a yellow slip of paper and I
realize with no small amount of apprehension what this meeting is
about.

I thought I’d rejoice when this day came
but, in all honesty, I’m not feeling too peppy about this.

“
For you, Miss Jones,” she says in her
most vindictive tone, “to reward you for your most inappropriate
conduct which resulted in your arrest Monday night.” She looks at
me with pure disgust. “Such unbecoming behavior for an educational
professional and I’m using that term loosely in reference to you.
You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“
Why?” I ask sarcastically. “Did he
have a miscarriage after I hit him?”

She doesn’t say a word. She just stares at
me like I have an arm growing out of my forehead.

“
It would be in your best interest to
start keeping your mouth shut and minding your own business, Miss
Jones,” she says curtly and slides the ominous yellow slip between
her thumb and forefinger, revealing two slips instead of just one.
She flashes her big yellow-toothed smile. “One more write-up and
you
will
be suspended.” She
places the two slips on her desk side by side. “Without
pay.”

“
What?” I practically shout. “What’s
the second one for?”

“
Excessive tardiness,” she says with
no small amount of delight. “Surely this doesn’t surprise you since
you manage to get to work on time about two times a month, if
that.” She slides the two pieces of paper across her desk and they
leave a trail in the dust.

I feel the fury welling up in my gut and I
am overcome with the urge to jump across her junky ass desk and
beat the ugly off her face with that 1979 model calculator.

But I don’t because I can’t. She’s got me by
my metaphorical balls.

I get up and snatch the papers off her
filthy desk and turn to leave.

“
Toodle-loo, Miss Jones,” she calls as
I walk out the door. “Have a great day!”

I resist the urge to give her the
finger.

12

I am a celebrity. At least at Ethan Allen’s
anyway.

I walk in to a standing ovation and Logan
Hatter puts his arm around me and smiles like he’s Clint Eastwood
and I’m Hillary Swank with a much wider ass. Ha.

Ethan pours up a Killian’s Red and puts it
down on the bar with great theatrical flair and people form a line
on either side of me like I’m the winning quarterback at the state
championship football game. I get hugs and pats on the back and
pats on the ass and high fives and smiles and winks from the
working people of Bugtussle who love nothing more than a good story
about a white collar asshole getting punched in the eyeball.

I polish off a few beers and, after much
pomp and circumstance, I enthrall them with the details of
everything that happened from the moment I stepped off the elevator
on the ICU floor until Sheriff Jackson stuffed me in the back of
his patrol car. And I’m quite the storyteller, if I do say so
myself.

The place erupts with laughter and cheers
and a few guys from the feed store break out in an Irish Jig. I
don’t mention that I puked my brains out when I saw Chloe. Instead,
while I have the floor, I decide to tell them about Catherine
Hilliard calling me into her dirty, stinking office and telling me
to mind my own business and keep my mouth shut and that I was about
to get fired because I wouldn’t get to work on time. Then I do what
I believe is a fantastic impersonation of her and, judging from the
laughs I get when I pretend to eat the barstool next to me, the
crowd agrees it’s a good one.

It didn’t occur to me that everyone dining
on the patio over at Pier 57 could hear every word I said.
Obviously it didn’t occur to anyone else at Ethan Allen’s either
because no one brought it to my attention.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around
to see Pete the Tire Man. He’s a cool little dude who has more
money than the bank, but you can’t tell it by looking at his
overalls and dusty mesh hat.

“
Hey Ace,” he asks, “where’s ol’ Lilly
Lane at tonight?”

“
Aw, I don’t know, Pete,” I shrug, “I
guess she’s at home.”

“
Well, call her and tell her she’s
missing the party!” I assume by this interchange that word isn’t
out about the allegations against Lilly and, for some reason, I
feel a wave of relief. I look to Ethan for help.

“
Hey Petey,” he hollers, “I talked to
her earlier and she’s watchin’ The Bachelorette tonight.” Ethan
winks at me and pours four shots of Jack Daniels.

“
The what?” Pete asks and makes a
funny face.

“
C’mon, Petey,” I grab him by the arm.
“Let’s dance.”

Everyone drinks and laughs and has a good
time and Ethan drives Logan and me home. On the way, we rehash the
moment again and again when Ethan threatened to bust Rich Stack’s
other eye.

“
Well, Ace, I’m sure glad there ain’t
no boxed bacon on your table out here tonight,” Ethan says, keeping
his hand on my hip. He holds my screen door open while I poke
around in my purse for my keys.

“
Tell me about it, Ethan,” I say,
unlocking the door. “Tell Logan I’ll pick him up in the morning and
take him to school and we’ll do our best to get there on time so he
won’t get fired for riding with me.”

“
Will do, Ace,” He kisses me on the
head and turns to go. “Good night, sweetheart.”

I hear his cowboy boots clomping off the
porch and a second later, he peels out of my driveway like the true
blue country boy that he is. I imagine him and Logan laughing their
hillbilly asses off all the way down the road.

13

I pick up Coach Hatter Thursday morning and
we arrive at school ten minutes early. He goes to the gym for what
the rest of us call “Coach Coffee” and I go to my classroom where,
much to my dismay, I find Catherine Hilliard and her large ass
standing outside my door.

“
In,” she hisses with through those
thin, crusty lips.

“
Good morning, Mrs. Hilliard,” I say
and offer her a powdered donut as I walk past her into my
classroom. She declines. “You sure? They’re real good.” I pop a
whole one in my mouth.

“
Sit,” she says, like I’m a
dog.

“
I’d rather stand. Or I could roll
over, if you like.”

I can see that really pisses her off
so I say, “Why don’t you have a seat? You look really tired and
it’s just, what?” I look down at my watch. “Seven fifteen. I’m here
ten minutes early!
What
?!?”

She glares at me and I decide sit on top of
my desk.

“
You,” she says and points to me, “you
think you are so funny and so
cool.”

I nod my head in agreement and she
continues, speaking slowly, “As long as I have had the displeasure
of knowing you, you have conducted yourself like no one in your
entire life has ever taught you
anything
.”

“
Are you talking about my mama?” I
ask, getting offended, “because she was a good woman and it would
be awful tacky of you to speak ill of the dead.”

“
I am most certainly
not
talking about your mother, I am
talking about you,” she snarls her chapped lips. “You run around
and think you are so,” she pauses, “so
entertaining
with your mindless stupidity
telling everybody everything you know all the time. You
think-”

“
Whoa now, Cathy,” I cut her off, “I
don’t like the direction this is going.”

“
You humiliate yourself, yet you think
you’re so comical, well, let me tell you something-”

“
When did I humiliate myself?” I ask
with a mouthful of doughnut. “Because I don’t
recollect.”

“
You had the nerve, the audacity, to
go out in public, a
bar
of
all places, and
shamelessly
run your loud mouth about an incident that landed you
in
jail
and then you decide
to really get funny and start making fun of
me
and the fact that you are about to lose
your
job
. Do you think you
can make fun of
me
and get
away with it? You
respect
me
because I am your
superior.
”

It never fails. News travels at the speed of
light in Bugtussle, Mississippi.

“
Did it ever occur to you, Cathy, that
I reserve my respect for people who
earn
it and, quite frankly,” I cock my head
sideways and look at her, “that’s not you.
Furthermore,
I will say whatever I want to say
wherever I want to say it and there is not one small thing that you
can do about it because I do believe that freedom of speech is
still in full effect in the Constitution.”