Rawlin's Rest Stop

Rawlin’s Rest Stop

                The windows are dirty; smear marks occupy the bottom sections near the tables. The tables are haloed by grubby little hand prints.  The restraunt portion of the gas station is empty, smelling of grease and hopelessness. Kathy the cashier stands over by static- filled monitors, her dull gaze following the words of her text messages. Her back is up against the counter so that she is facing the perfectly lined cigarettes. Rachel, a girl of seventeen, wonders if Kathy will sneak a smoke tonight. Rachel’s black kitchen shoes squeak against the gritty tile as she crosses to her counter which is adjacent to Kathy’s. Her hands have been cold all evening and the wet rag she carries doesn’t do any favors for that.

                “I’m going out.” Kathy’s raspy voice says to Rachel. Kathy proceeds to take a package of already opened cigarettes and pulls one out. But before she leaves, she turns back to grab a BIC lighter off the display on the front counter. From inside Rachel can see Kathy’s back pressed up against the window and the bright glow of her phone silhouetting her proofed up hair and the faint flicker of the burning orange cigarette.

                Kathy wasn’t always this depressed, but lately she had been going out for more smoke breaks. And those breaks tolled heavily on her, the wrinkles on her face growing deeper with each puff. Rachel remembers a time though when Kathy was happy. But since Paul left her Kathy’s eyeliner was always smudged into the creases of her eyelids.

                Rachel had those occasional day dreams; she probably shared them with Kathy. That Paul would walk into the station in one of his nice plaid button ups and beg for Kathy’s forgiveness. She knew better than anyone how badly Kathy was hurt. Rachel was familiar with Kathy’s brand of hurt. Rachel’s father left them when she was very young leaving her and her mother for some sleek twenty something year old.  He tried to stay involved in her life though, he sent her birthday cards filled with his love that appeared in fifty dollar bills. He went so far even to friend request her on Facebook. A virtual father- all he had ever been. Rachel wanted more than that though she wanted the real memories of a man that smelled like after-shave and man who chased the boogie man out of her closet. And she didn’t know how or when she’d ever get anyone to fill that void in her life. Rachel loosens her pony tail; her scalp pays dearly for the thick blonde hair she sports.

                Rachel’s fingers start to prune and her nails became soft and white in color. She seats herself in one of the clean benches resting her head in her hands. A healing welt runs up her arm, she got it last week when she splattered herself with the fryer grease.  Kathy is outside still burning time. Rachel stands up taking a slow pace to the kitchen. The hot lights sit over pre- made hamburgers preserving their warmth although no one would eat them tonight. The wilted lettuce sits in the ice bucket the green being leeched out by exposure. Rachel idly looks over the lit up menu and notes the splatter on the far corner running up the white tiles, most likely a spilled beverage.

                Rachel stops in front of the display of the family that runs this restraunt. Encased inside is a family portrait and the logo of their restraunt, it reads Rawlins in thick red cursive. Rachel went to school with the chain owner’s son Will. He was student body president her freshman year, she remembers him being very charismatic. Looking at the outdated picture she notices that Will looks far younger than she remembers. He has on a zipped up sweater that has a red horizontal line running across the chest. His hair is haphazardly spiked and his teeth hadn’t yet been tamed by braces. His family matches with their grey shirts and blue jeans. The back- drop is an old barn, and there’s snow on the ground. They look happy and rich. It seems to some point Rachel has always known Will was handsome even before he knew it.         

                The cow bell on the door clanks. Rachel’s pulse quickens as she hurries behind the counter she glances up to see Kathy follow the customer in. The policy is that there should always be someone behind the counter whenever a customer is present. Rachel marches into the back and washes her hands thoroughly in the scalding water.

                “Hello? Hello? Are you guys open?” a fellow about her age asks.

                “We are. May I take your order?” Rachel asks in her voice reserved for customers.

                “I’ll have a number 5 in a medium combo meal and can I get that to go?” He looks Rachel in the eyes. Rachel forgets what a number 5 combo is and has to check the menu herself.

                “The the umm total comes to $7.83.” Rachel calculates in her head making sure the sum is right. This boy makes her nervous.

                He hands her some torn bills and exact change. Rachel punches in the order and puts the money in the register then heads back to get his fries. Her hands are shaking as she dumps the fries into the little bag. She puts this and a premade burger into a larger bag then hands it to the customer. The customer takes it and begins to walk away but not before he turns around.

                “Don’t I get a drink or something?” His dark eyebrows are raised.

                “Oh yeah.” Rachel grabs him a cup.

                When he reaches for the cup their fingers brush, her fingers fail her as the corner of the cup hits the table with a thunk. He looks at her funny snatches the cup and heads over to the fountain drink dispenser. Once he’s out the door Rachel slumps over the laminate counter top. She can hear Kathy’s raspy laugh from the far end of the restraunt. If Rachel was close enough she’s sure she could smell the smoke still clinging to her skin.

                “Calm down hon, it’s all a matter of time.” Rachel doesn’t remember her coming back in. But can see that her velvet pink sweater top is speckled with rain drops.

                “I sure hope so.”

                “Hon, when you’re young everything seems like a failure. You’ll learn, and if you luck continues you’ll just keep on learning. Just like me.” Kathy smiles sadly her eyes glancing up at the gas station security monitor, “We’ll have a customer soon.”

A nice blue car sits under the bright lights of the gas station pump. When he finishes pumping he starts for the door. The face strikes Rachel as familiar.

                His ears look like they were pinched pink and he is probably the most cheerful thing in the room. He walks over to Kathy engaging her in some small talk he even manages to get squeak out one of her forty year old raspy laughs. He holds himself confidently the way only a student body president would.

                Rachel didn’t mean to but she stares. The last time Rachel heard about Will he was somewhere in Peru preaching things her mother didn’t care to learn. Will pays Kathy with a silver card their conversation flowing easily.  That’s when Will turns around and starts walking toward Rachel’s end of the restraunt. He stops right in front of the counter and sets his hands on the counter sliding them across it as if the cheap laminate counter top were marble. His eyes are appraising the menu flitting from one thing to the next. Rachel waits patiently for him to take his order.

                “Chicken strips huh? We’re really upgrading here, aren’t we?” His eyes meet Rachel’s they’re a warm brown. His curly brown hair is damp the wet ends sticking to his forehead.

                “Most definitely, we even put toys in the kids meal’s now.” Rachel says back easily.

                “Man, a lot has changed.” He says, this thoughtfully. “Please don’t tell me that’s the picture I think it is.” Will walks over to the display his hands leaving the counter with a swift push.

                “That display has been there for a while.” Rachel says smiling.

                “That’s a horrible picture!” Will laughs “Look at me I’m a dork!” he covers his face with his thumb as he sets it back into the display.

                “You don’t look like a dork. I actually like that picture.” Rachel says shyly, her hand strokes her blonde ponytail. Will looks at her for a moment trying to recognize her. She bites her peeling lips.

                “We went to high school together. You were in my psych class…” His eyes tighten on her. The thrill of recognition expands in her stomach like a helium balloon. Somewhere outside the sleet stops and the cowbell clanks as Kathy goes out for another smoke.