Dull, white and red lights of Xavier Chemicals glimmered in the late afternoon sky. Swirling, stormy winds hounded the gray steel towers of the plant, as they puffed ashy smoke high and away.
Behind a thick window pockmarked with little cracks, Roman Hunter watched some of the smoke whip about into thin white streams and dissipate. The wind howled outside, jarred his refuge, a tiny red trailer on cinderblocks, used as an observation point during chemical unloading from rail cars. A large plastic trashcan popped into the air and bounced helplessly past the building.
“Wow! It sounds bad out there.”
Roman turned his attention from the storm to the speaker phoned voice of his sister Stephanie. He yawned, reclined his thin, wiry frame into a worn, squeaky, canvas chair. Long, dark brown dreadlocks fell over the back.
“It is bad,” Roman answered, flipped the collar of his thermal coveralls around his neck. He plopped his feet on an old, metal desk with a corroded drawer that had to be kicked open. His black steel-toe boots, with a crust of mud on the soles, rested by the door. A small space heater glowed by the chair. He shivered, shook his head and said, “Man, I never should have come into work tonight.”
“Why did you? Aren’t you on your seven day off thingee?”
“My long change? Yeah.” Roman yawned again, rubbed under his eyes. Remnants of a pastrami on rye and a bottle of Nantucket lemonade jostled for position with a Mac Book by his feet. “Believe me I didn’t want to be here. It’s nasty, it’s cold, it’s stormy, but a co-worker asked me to cover for him. So I did.”
“When are you getting off?”
Roman tapped his watch, set to the military time used at the plant and chuckled. It was an appropriate first-day-at-work gift from his wife, who made time as well as the Timex kept it. He answered, “In about an hour, thank God. But hey, what’s up? How’s whats-his-face and how are my nephews?”
“My husband Gary and your nephews are just fine, goofball. The boys ask about seeing their “Uncle Ro” all the time.”
“Cool, I was planning on doing just that very soon.” Roman reached over, took a swig of lemonade. He burped silently. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to go to the zoo.”
“Oh, I’ve got something even better Uncle Ro.”
“Really? Hey, hold on Jen.” Roman sat up, cupped a hand to an ear. A bull horn megaphone, fixed in an upper corner of the trailer blasted a message inside, but it was fuzzy. Roman squinted, then shook his head and said, “Sorry about that. Thought I heard them paging me. Now what were you saying?”
“I was wondering if you could watch the boys for me and Gary tonight.”
“Tonight? Are you insane? I just saw Noah standing on the Ark, shooting off a flare.
“Funny.”
“Actually I’m not joking, it’s supposed to rain all night.”
“It’s clear over here. Well not entirely, but certainly not as bad as over there.”
“What’s the emergency?”
“Nothing, no emergency. We have tickets to Madam Butterfly.”
“Nice!”
“Yep.”
Roman sighed, scratched his head, imagined the breathless look of anticipation on his sister’s face and said, “And you’ve been waiting all year for this right?”
“Yep.”
“And despite the fact that I’m fried and a total zombie right about now, I still have to come through because you’re my big sister and I haven’t seen my nephews in like ages, and if I say no, then I will get the mother of all guilt speeches right?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, okay, where do I sign?” Roman shrugged and listened to the rain drum over the roof. The last item he wanted on his agenda was a babysitting gig, but unlike him, his sister always had a ton of food in the refrigerator, a soft, cushy sofa, and a state of the art, home theatre system that had his name on it.
