Skipped Parts: A Heartbreaking, Wild, and Raunchy Comedy by Tim Sandlin Read Free Book Online

glazed, waiting for 10:30.
    I figured out the stove deal so we ate frozen pizzas three nights a week and at the White Deck the other four. That’s something of an exaggeration. Lydia bought rib eyes every now and then, and I got good with Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in a box. Some Sundays we drove to Jackson for late breakfast at the Wort Hotel.
    So far as I can tell, Lydia made good on the emotional catatonia threat. She went a good month without speaking to a human other than me and Dot. Even with Dot, Lydia took to pointing at things on the menu or going through me.
    “Tell her this hamburger is overcooked. Your sneakers have more flavor.”
    I turned to Dot and shrugged.
    Dot laughed like we were perfectly pleasant folks making a joke. She had nifty dimples. I had a crush on her that wouldn’t let go, and Lydia’s attitude caused me some embarrassment.
    Once when Lydia left me the money to pay and fluffed out the door, I explained things to Dot at the cash register.
    “My mom’s kind of high-strung. She doesn’t mean anything personal.”
    Dot looked sad for the first time. “No one should apologize for their mother,” she said. “All moms are doing the best they can.”
    “Are you sure?”
    ***
    A guy did try to talk to us once. Big, wide fella with a grin, he came slamming through the door and walked straight toward our table, pulled a chair over and straddled it backward with his hands across the top slat. The middle finger on his right hand was missing two joints.
    He held the stub out to me. “Look.”
    I looked but didn’t see anything other than a short finger. Lydia didn’t look. “It’s short,” I said.
    “Look at the tip.”
    I shrugged. Seemed like a fingertip to me.
    “I lost it in a chain saw and at the hospital they took a skin graft off this arm,” he showed me a scar on his left arm, “and stuck it over the tip.”
    “Why are you telling me this?”
    “Look close and see.”
    I finally figured out that he meant he didn’t have a fingerprint so he could commit crimes. I looked so I could say, “Gee, no fingerprint,” but then I saw all this wiry hair.
    “Your fingertip’s hairy.”
    The big lug’s grin showed a flashy gold tooth. “Never seen anything like it, huh? Look, ma’am.” He stuck the finger between Lydia’s face and her food. I couldn’t believe it, the guy had his hand in a pornographic position three inches from her nose, and she was speechless. Normally, Lydia practically spit at anyone who called her “ma’am.”
    “They shaved the skin off my arm before grafting it, but the hair all grew back. Ever see anything like that?”
    He turned his hand sideways into the handshake position. “Ft. Worth Jones, ma’am. I’m more than pleased to meet you.”
    Lydia stared at the hand a moment, then up at the guy’s expansive face.
    I said, “I heard your name at football practice.”
    The gold tooth flashed in the fluorescent light. “Hope they said something good.”
    “How do you spell Fort ?”
    He looked perplexed by the question. “F-T period. Like the town.”
    “Oh.”
    He still had his hand out. “Saturday night’s movie night at the VFW, little lady. The Inspector General. I’d be pleased if you’d accompany me.”
    I was sure “little lady” would spark a Lydia volcano, but nothing happened. She just sat there. My theory is Ft. Worth was so far from her frame of reference that Lydia couldn’t see him.
    Ft. Worth looked at me. “Is she okay?”
    “Medication.”
    He stared intently at Lydia’s eyes. “Yeah. Would you tell her I dropped by.”
    I nodded.
    ***
    The tall stranger stepped through the White Deck screen door and strode to the counter. “Black coffee and rare beefsteak.”
    When Dot brought out the stranger’s supper, she refilled his coffee cup. “What brings you to town, stranger?”
    “Passing through.”
    Dot was amazed at his calmness. “Honey, nobody passes through GroVont. Where you headed?”
    “Paris-France.” The