Page 59 of Thinking Out Loud


Font Size:

Carol’s Signs, Online Orders Only

Three Sisters House Cleaners, Available 24/7

Glendale Baseball Camp Happening in Two Weeks

I trace my hand over the glass, picturing each of the businesses in this corner of the city and felt the smile tug at my cheek. We were inside city limits, one of the largest cities in Oklahoma, but for the last twenty years, the ten blocks surrounding the high school had established itself asKnight Town, Home of Glendale High School.

“I wouldn’t let Jodie go anywhere near my head, if I were you.”

I look up from the cards and see Devon standing by my booth, coffees in hand.

I smile. “Bad experience?”

“She gave me a high top perm for prom last year.” He rolls his eyes, setting my coffee down. “May I?” He waves to the empty seat across from me.

I nod to the seat. “You seem like someone who can pull off a perm though.”

“Lucky for her sake, I can. But save yourself the trouble. Unless you wanna leave lookin’ like a poodle, I’d go to the city.”

“Noted”—I pour cream into my coffee—“So, when did you start working for Sam?”

“Since I beat his nephew’s face in.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Making amends, I see?”

“Mom made me.” He shrugs. “Said if I wanna act like a man, I may as well work like one.”

“Understandable. How are you liking it?”

“It’s dumb. Wipe tables, wash dishes, pour coffee. What is there to like?”

“Getting a paycheck, perhaps? Building your resume?” I ask optimistically.

He nods in response, looking out the window.

I wait a moment, giving him an opportunity to continue. When he doesn’t, I ask, “What can I do for you, Mr. Johnson?”

He sits there, silently tracing the rim of his coffee cup with his thumb before finally responding, “I need help.”

Sitting forward in my seat, I look at him. “What do you need help with, Devon?”

He looks at me earnestly. “I’m having theseissuesand I don’t know what to do.”

I look around, ensuring no one is in earshot of our conversation and whisper, “Are these issues in your head?”

His face becomes flat as he nods slightly. I reach into my purse and pull out a sticky notepad and begin doodling.

“How are these issues making you feel?”

“Angry,” he says sternly.

Angry face doodle.

“How long has this been going on?”

“About a year.”

Smiley clock doodle.