Sucker
She pulled into the parking space at the gas station. Imagine her surprise, or lack thereof, when she found out she had to take her sister’s boyfriend to work, again. It seemed like she was the only one who ever took him in since he’d blow the motor in his car.
“You need anything?” he asked.
“If you’re buying, a Pepsi. If not, I’m good,” she replied, knowing he’d come out empty handed with a pack of smokes in his pocket.
“Okay.” He slid out of the car, and then ducked down to reach through the window. “Here, hold this till I get back. Don’t know why I lit it.” He handed her a near-whole cigarette.
She watched him walk away, pulling the door open and walking inside, before mumbling, “Don’t mind if I do,” and putting the filter to her lips.
She inhaled deeply, letting the blue-grey smoke fill her lungs. Holding it in, savoring it for several seconds before exhaling. She hadn’t had a cigarette all day, being underage and dependent on her ‘friends’ to catch a drag here and there. If she was lucky, someone would give her one or even buy her a pack when she asked, giving them a couple extra bucks for their trouble.
She leaned her head back on the headrest. The bass coming through the twelve-inch subwoofers vibrated through her body—Just Like You by Three Days Grace played from a cd she’d burned.
She glanced to the store’s glass door to check if he was coming out yet. The coast was clear, so she put the cigarette back to her lips, taking a long drag and closing her eyes. On the exhale, she turned her head to the left toward the open window and opened her eyes to see something she hadn’t expected.
“Shit,” she said as the realization dawned on her who sat in the large truck three spaces over.
He shook his head, a chuckle playing at his lips. “Shit’s right,” he said, getting out of the truck and walking over. “I’d ask when you started smoking, but I don’t want to know.”
“It’s habit. He had me hold it, what else was I supposed to do with it?” she said, setting the offending item in the ashtray.
“Yeah, a bad habit.” He took a drag from his own cigarette. “I’ll tell you what, don’t tell anyone you saw me here, and I won’t let your mother know what I saw.”
She looked at him, incredulous. She wanted to ask why but decided to avoid the grief on both accounts. What the hell did anyone care why he was at the store for anyway?
“Okay,” she replied, and he walked back to his truck and climbed in, sitting there.
“What’s he doing here?” The car’s door creaked slightly as it opened.
She turned to look at her sister’s boyfriend. “Beats me. Your fucking cigarette’s in the ashtray.”
She glanced behind her,
putting the shifter in reverse and backing out of the spot swiftly. The tires
chirped as she slammed the gear shifter into drive and hit the gas, wondering
how weird what had just happened was.
It was only later she’d found out the man had been cheating on his wife with a woman who worked at the gas station they’d been parked at that day. Something that would hang over her head for endless years later, making her feel like a sucker—filling her with guilt and helping to fuel her already paralyzing depression.
No comments:
Post a Comment