Every night at 5, George left his job at the technology park and headed to his car. He would walk across the parking lot to section C2 which was designated for employees in his tier. When he had started, back in the late 80’s, he had been division H. A lot had changed since then. Back then he was still living with his parents and borrowing his mom’s car to get to work. Now he drives a 2012 Lincoln, almost paid off, and owns a small home in Wolcott. A neighborhood just west of the city. He’s worked hard to forge a decent salary. He was never late and never left early. Rarely had he used all his vacation days. He didn’t really know what to do with them. There had been no girlfriends. A few dates with girls from work had only amounted to unreturned phone calls and awkward lunch breaks. George was alone. In fact he was lonely. His mother was worried about him. This irritated him. Last month while driving home from Latham, he’d pulled over at a diner off Route 90. He had to pee. He felt awkward just walking in and using the restroom and so he ordered a coffee and sat at a table by the window near his parked car. The waitress had been friendly. Her name tag read: Ashley. Ashley had strawberry blonde hair and freckles and made George awkward when she said ‘A big, strong man like you needs somethin’ more than coffee’. In fact George wasn’t a big strong man at all. He was self conscious of his small frame. Even his hands were small and he quickly put them under the table during this exchange. He ordered a grilled cheese and thought about how he’d be home late for the start of Jeopardy. He finished his sandwich in a hurry and blushed when the waitress asked his name and laid his check on the table. He’d studied her long fingers, tipped with bright red polish. He began to take his meals at the diner every night. Driving in the opposite direction of his home, and onto route 90. This cost him 45 cents in tolls in either direction. He’d keep exact change to quickly hand the woman in the booth.
One night, after a month or so, Ashley joked “the food here’s not that good George. You sweet on me sugar?” He’d turned the shade of her nails and she’d laughed “This one’s sweet on me Janice” she called over to her co-worker. Then the two of them laughed and so did a few costumers. George left 20 whole dollars on the table and slipped out when she’d gone in the kitchen. On his way home he stopped at the toll booth. He stayed stopped like that. Minutes began to tic by in the red glow of the stop light. The barrier arm remained down. The line of cars behind him began to honk. He’d run out of change. George takes his meals at home again now. On a tv table while sitting on the couch. In front of Jeopardy. He didn’t used to drink beer but now he does. And sometimes when he stands up and heads for the fridge and asks her if she wants a refill, she’ll raise her legs straight out, blocking the path between the couch and the coffee table and say, “That’ll be 45 cents please”.
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Aase Berg: In the Guinea Pig Cave
https://greenlanternpress.wordpress.com/tag/in-the-guinea-pig-cave/?fbclid=IwAR26M6td4SFaLK-xzLMN-2FMVVV71RASPYJHE0UDt04izmQ6bmdmzhXR78E
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Leslie Vryenhoek: Under the Surface
