“Did it? I don’t remember seeing that, and I checked. I always check,” she said, folding the wet paper and tossing it in the trash. “You know I cleaned out my car this weekend? Piece of crap, not sure why. It’s a piece of junk, so who cares if it looks and smells like junk? Well, I guess I care since I spent my only day off cleaning it out.”
Zoe geared up for a Jessie spill, a phrase Pete had coined to describe the rate at which Jessie could talk once she got started.
“I know I checked because I washed my hair yesterday, and if I had known it was going to rain I would have waited. Rain and Texas hair never mingle well, my mother would say. So, I’m sure I checked.” Jessie tossed her bag and coat under the counter and dipped to use the reflective surface of a napkin box to check her hair. “Anyways, as I was saying, I cleaned out my car this weekend and I had an umbrella in there, and I thought to myself, I haven’t used this in months so it’s just cluttering up my back seat for no good reason. And then two days later it rains like this?”
She straightened and looked Zoe dead in the eye. “You would think I could catch a break. I mean, don’t I deserve a bit of peace for once? After the radiator troubles with my piece-of-crap car and the water leak in my shower—I swear if that fat, idiotic super of mine blows off my bathroom leak one more time—and you know, I’m pretty sure there are rats in the walls as well. I really have to move. I know I say that all the time, but this time I mean it.”
Zoe smirked and tuned out the ramblings of the frantic waitress, as she often did. She glanced out the large square windows into the pouring rain. It had been dark for a couple of hours now. It wouldn’t be long before they got some daylight back, as the winter turned to spring and the sun stayed out to warm the cold earth.
This was her first Texas winter, and the worst part was the way the people complained about the cold, even though it wasn’t that cold to begin with. It had been a relief to escape the horrid heat of summer, and Zoe wasn’t sure she would survive another sweltering heat. But she’d made a commitment to herself that she’d stay put for a while this time. Melting summers and all.
And Sherman wasn’t so bad. It was quiet, friendly, and relatively private. People didn’t mind leaving you to yourself, which was arguably the only requirement for Zoe when picking a place to stay awhile. That and a Taco Bell. One of the only reliable things in Zoe’s life was the soft taco. It never really changed.
“I priced out the new complex going in over off Peach Street,” Jessie continued, “but there is no way I can afford that working here. Not unless I got a roommate, and I’d rather sleep outside in this rain.”
“You could live across the street at the motel,” Pete piped up from the kitchen, “like little Zoe here. Then you could stop complainin’ about your car and your terrible apartment, because you’d be free of both.”
“I’d rather be homeless,” Jessie said, then shot an apologetic glance at Zoe. “No offense, honey, but that place is just depressing.”
“No offense taken. It works for me,” Zoe said.
Jessie nodded, a familiar look flashing behind her eyes. A look Zoe dreaded. Curiosity.
“Why are you still there? I mean, there’s plenty of places in town. Seems strange to still be squatting at that dingy motel,” Jessie said.
“Like I said, it works for me,” Zoe replied, “and it doesn’t have rats in the walls.”
Pete chuckled and Jessie cut her eyes at Zoe’s snark. “Whatever you say, but it isn’t normal for a young, single cutie like yourself to be stowed up alone in a travelers’ motel. Oh, the trouble I got into when I was twenty-four and ten pounds lighter. I mean, how are you going to meet people?”
“Who says she wants to meet people?” Pete questioned.
“Everybody wants somebody,” Jessie shot back, then to Zoe: “I mean, right?”
Zoe didn’t really want to have this conversation anymore. She didn’t like the places this kind of inquiry could take them.
The bell over the door rang again and two men, both unfamiliar, walked in. Probably semitruck drivers. They saw a handful of those, as the large gas station next door often serviced semis.
Zoe glanced at Jessie. “Your turn.”
“And another mindless shift begins,” Jessie scoffed in a whisper. Then to the two drivers she cooed, “Hey there, fellas, sit wherever you’d like, and I’ll be right with you.”
Zoe rolled her eyes and grinned. The bell rang again. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a girl, couldn’t be older than seventeen, standing in the open doorway, drenched from the rain. She was breathing heavily, her eyes wide with surprise as she took in her surroundings.
“That one’s all you,” Jessie said under her breath as she approached Zoe from behind.
Great, Zoe thought. She walked around the end of the bar toward the strange girl. “Booth or barstool?” she asked.
The girl snapped her eyes toward Zoe and dropped her hand from the diner door. The pneumatic hinge slowly pulled the glass door shut. The expression on the girl’s face was like a startled deer, innocent and terrified.
As Zoe took a step toward her, the girl’s body tensed. Zoe took a step back herself, suddenly uncertain what the girl might do.
“You alright?” she asked.
The girl looked in all directions, then brushed beads of water away from her face. Zoe yanked a handful of napkins out of a holder and extended them to her. The teen glanced down at the offering and slowly accepted. She wiped her face clean and dried her hands.
“Better?” Zoe asked.
The girl nodded. “Yes.”
“You wanna table?”
She looked at the row of booths to her right and then pointed to the first one. “This one?”
“Sure,” Zoe replied.
The girl moved quickly, sliding into the left side of the booth. Her movements were rigid, fast, like all her nerve endings were wired, and she barely sat fully in her seat. Zoe grabbed a menu from the bar and placed it on the table in front of her.
“What’s this?” the girl asked.
Zoe just looked at her for a second, waiting for her to say she was kidding. But she didn’t. She just sat there staring up at Zoe, waiting for an answer.
“The menu,” Zoe said.
“What do I do with it?”
Again, Zoe paused for the punch line. Nothing.
“You order food from it,” she said. “Have you never used a menu before?” She still expected the girl to look up, laugh, and say, “Of course I have. Who hasn’t used a menu?”
But instead the girl took hold of the single plastic sheet and studied it with fascination. “I can have anything?” she asked with wonder.
She looked up at Zoe, a childlike sparkle overcoming the fear that had been there earlier. It made Zoe uncomfortable and unsure of how to respond. The girl returned her gaze to the menu. Zoe wasn’t sure what the girl had taken, but it was pretty clear she was on something.
“Maybe you should just start with some water,” she suggested.
“Yes,” the girl replied. “That would be good.” She smiled up at her, and Zoe nodded. She turned and walked back behind the counter to get a glass of water.