“Why don’t you smile,” he asked. “I bet you’re pretty when
you smile.”
Right! Why would I bother smiling for him? He smelled like
whiskey and cheese. His implication that I should try to make myself appealing
for him was appalling.
We sat alone in the booth. The jukebox on the other side of
the spare room issued no rollicking rock, no beautiful blues, no jumping jazz.
It was silent and hulking, half hidden in shadows where lights should be at
play.
“My grampa used to own this place.” He looked around,
wistful. “I was here a lot as a kid. It was the only way to see my folks.”
He touched my wrist, reminding me of the three-day old
bruise residing there. I withdrew my arm and wrapped it around my middle.
“Would you get me something to drink?” I kept my eyes cast
down as I made the request.
He grunted something but got up to fetch me a glass of
something that sloshed as he set it down.
The glass was heavy, likely an original from when this dump
first opened. I took a sip. Lukewarm soda water from the tap behind the bar, I
guessed.
“Some ice sure would be good,” I said. “Do you think you
could get some for me?”
Another grunt, this time louder, followed by the crack of
worn vinyl as he left the bench. Thankfully he was in a solicitous mood.
I slid over, the bench silent under my insignificant frame,
and stood. He was just turning toward me when I hit the back of his head with
the weighty glass. The tray of shriveled ice he had scavenged from the ancient
freezer behind the bar scattered as he slumped and slid toward the floor at my
feet, a rivulet of red springing from his scalp.
I turned him over and dug through his shirt pocket for the key
to the padlock he’d put on the door. As I wrapped my fingers around it and
pulled it free from the cloth his hand closed around my ankle. With my free
foot I stomped down on his throat and fled toward the door, turned the key in
the lock, flung open the door, and ran to the parking lot.
Nature was in the process of reclaiming the slab of asphalt
where cars and trucks had parked before the highway was rerouted. A For Sale
sign swung, lopsided, in the hot wind. Storm clouds gathered in the west. I
looked at the long stretch of empty road and barren land wondering how far it
would be to civilization and whether I had the strength to get there. There was
only one way to find out.
I began to run.
