The thing about Lucinda is that there are so many things about her.

How does someone who was born and raised right here in Fort Stockton still remain so mysterious?  People swear she graduated from Our Lady of Immeasurable Concern, but nobody remembers her being in their class.

She’s been the waitress here at The Grounds for Divorce for as long as anyone can remember, but she still looks exactly like the day she first walked into the place.  She makes good tips, to be sure, but travels like someone of much higher means.  Folks have surmised that she may even own the small coffee shop and cafe that seems to be the center of so many a story.  But, even if she did, the place can’t generate much of a profit.  Most of us sit in here all day long and order nothing but coffee.  A few even come in first thing in the morning, go home for lunch, and then come back for the afternoon,  She finally started making ‘em order a new cup for the return trip.

Nobody’s for certain, but as far as we know she never went to college.  Yet, Mayor Goodman, Pastor Peterson from the Almost United Methodist Church, and Rusty from The Rusty Hammer Hardware Store all come in for business and personal advice.  Even Chad from the Piggly Wiggly seeks her input since he got the big promotion to Assistant Manager.  (In Chad’s case, it might just be an excuse.  He’s had a thing for her since way before he and Prudence from Produce got married.  While that flicker never was fully ignited, it certainly hasn’t been completely doused, either.)

It’s a known fact she’s enjoyed the company of a number of gentlemen.  A large number.  We’re talking a serious number, here.  Yet, her reputation is not one that would embarrass any fine lady.  She and Sister Thelma are the closest of friends, after all.

She is a most feminine beauty, yet drives a turquoise colored Jeep Gladiator J2000 Thriftside.  Drives it pretty damn hard, too, although half the men in Fort Stockton have said they’d let her grind their gears, just like she does the Gladiator’s,  anytime she wanted to.

She left town for a good bit a while back.  Folks weren’t sure if she was coming back, or if she’d finally washed the dust of Fort Stockton off her feet, never to be seen again.  Can’t even remember how long she was gone, but it was a good bit.  Then, one day the turquoise Gladiator was parked right outside the GFD and there she was, back in her short skirt and tight apron with a coffee pot in one hand, a green and white striped order pad in the other like she’d never left.  She’ll still refer to far away places she saw while she was gone, or suitors she took while she traveled.  But the details are sketchy and we all know better than to come right out and ask.  She’ll tell us what we need to know and let us fill in our own blanks on the rest.

There are more ironies in Lucinda’s persona than just the fact that she is a rabid environmentalist who drives a gas guzzling 1970 Jeep Gladiator.  We’ve seen her cut powerful men down to size that most folks would cross the street to not confront, but then dig into the pocket of her apron and empty every last tip into the dirty hands of a homeless guy out back of the cafe.  “Never seen anything like her,” Rusty often says.  “Heart of gold, balls of brass, and a sight to behold in between.”

A fight almost broke out at the Lucky Lady Lounge a while back over exactly what color Lucinda’s hair was.  Some roughneck from the oil patch swore up and down it was blond.  Brother Bob from Second Baptist Church of Fort Stockton said he’d swear on a stack of Bibles she was a verifiable brunette.  Meanwhile Hank, behind the bar, stared off in the direction of the neon Lone Star Longneck sign and mumbled, “You’re both wrong.  It’s golden amber with discreet highlights of tawny red.”  

“That dipstick can’t even spell ‘tawny’,” Brother Bob said under his breath.

I guess, then, that’s the thing about Lucinda.  She’s whatever you want her to be.  The girl’s a homebody who’s traveled the world.  A damsel trying to save the world from behind the wheel of a pickup truck that gets eight miles a gallon going down hill with a back wind.  The girl you wish you could sleep with, and your wife wouldn’t even mind if it meant she and Lucinda could somehow be besties in the deal.

Of course that would never happen.  Lucinda’s too good for any of us who gather at the Grounds for Divorce.  Truth be told, she’s too damn good for ol’ Fort Stockton.  But she’s seen what the rest of the world has to offer, and determined there’s no place she’d really rather be.

That’s a good thing for us.