Still feeling a little tingly, I peeked around the edge of the booth at the counter, noting the only occupied stools were nearer to the door and the thugs were busy giving their orderto the waitress who’d helped me.
Feeling silly, I turned back to my meal, only to realize it wasn’t as appealing as before. I’d eaten less than half but already was so stuffed it felt like the food was sitting in my chest.Consequences of not eating regularly.
Instead of admitting defeat, I grabbed my water and took a sip, opting instead for an intermission. I’d been exhausted before, but now I was almost lethargic. The cozy interior of the diner, accompanied by the unexpected kindness of the waitress and the nostalgic song playing over the radio, left me feeling almost safe.
Don’t let your guard down. This isn’t home.
A sobering thought, considering I had no home and hadn’t for a while now. Not because I hadn’t tried, but when you’re underage and have no high school diploma, it severely limits your options. But now that I was eighteen, getting a job should be easier. Right?
God, I hoped so.
A shadow moved across the table, and I glanced up, right into the eyes of one of the thugs who’d come in before. I looked away almost instantly as he continued through the archway that led to the bathroom.
The food in front of me turned even more unappealing, so when the waitress appeared, I asked for a to-go container and a bag.
My instincts were screaming for me to get out of there, but I wouldn’t just leave my unfinished meal behind. For someone who’d spent more time hungry than full, wasting any amount of food was against the laws of nature. My instincts would just have to take a back seat to practicality. There was so muchleft, I’d have a whole other meal for tomorrow. Maybe even two if I rationed it well.
As I was waiting, the man exited the bathroom, and I felt his eyes before I even glanced up. If I looked away too quickly this time, I’d appear weak. So I held his indiscernible gaze, throwing up a shield against the way he tried to measure me.
Thankfully, the waitress returned, sliding between us and providing a credible reason to turn my attention elsewhere. “Here ya go, hon,” she said, handing over some containers. “There’s a cup for your coffee too.”
I started to thank her, but as the man passed, his knuckle dropped two sharp raps on the end of the table. They were hard-edged and quick, gunshots fired right into the lethargy wrapped around me, shattering it instantly.
The waitress turned to watch him as he continued, pausing long enough to wink at her over his shoulder.
He did not look at me. He didn’t need to. The wooden tabletop still vibrated from his attention.
Time to go.“Can I have the check please?” I asked quickly.
Reaching into her apron, she pulled out the small pad and ripped off the ticket. This place was so old-school that they still did everything by hand.
“Can I just leave the money on the table?” I asked, dragging the paper closer.
She slid her eyes in the direction of the thugs without turning her head. “You know them?” she asked quietly. So quietly I almost missed the words.
“No. I’d like to keep it that way,” I said low.
“I can just take it for you.”
I nodded once and looked down at the total. It wasn’t quite ten dollars. All I had were twenties, so I pulled one out of my coat and handed it to her with the bill.
A few moments later, she returned with the change, handing over a small stack of singles.
She started to walk away, but I reached out, gently catching her wrist before she could go. She glanced down, surprised.
“Thank you,” I said immediately and gestured to the food. “I really appreciate everything.”
She’d been kind and generous, more than most. Usually, people took in my worn clothes, thin frame, and wind-chapped skin with thinly veiled disgust. A time or two, I was even asked to leave.
“We don’t want any trouble.”
“Get a job.”
“Stop being lazy.”
“We don’t give handouts here.”
I’d heard it all and more. It was humiliating, demoralizing, and usually untrue.
