things like that but now everything is tracked.
I go back and talk to Arnie. He tells me that if
we give free food to every down and outer that
walks in here, he’ll go out of business. I don’t
plead my case because I know I can’t win. My
receipts and the register have to add up, but I
know what to do. I give her the bill and tell her
not to forget her doggie bag. She looks at me
quizzically at first then she understands and
smiles. It’s one of those trembling smiles where
you bite the inside of your lip to hold back a
tear. I know because I’m doing it too. The boy
doesn’t notice.
She is driving down the dark road. There is
the spot with the missing guardrail. The spot
that drops off at almost ninety degrees. She
was going to do it but she was still savoring the
bite of glazed donut the boy, leaning forward
against his restraints, had just shoved at her
lips. She rounded the corner sharply and heard
the change rattle in her pocketbook. She drove
to the rest stop, took out the coins and put them
in the payphone.
At break time, I write down that I had chocolate milk and two donuts. I know it’s hunger I
feel in my stomach, but it feels different.
Maxine Kollar is a wife and a mother of
three. Her works have appeared in SpeckLit and
Tell Us A Story. More works are forthcoming
in Mamalode, Funny in Five Hundred, Clever
Mag, Gravel Mag and Rat’s Ass Review.