Souls - XVIII

Passing through Tucumcari, New Mexico, which means we’re about nine hours from Jesus Christ. I can only hope we can get to him and he can help somehow before I get my papers.

I’m assuming this was never a booming populous of humanity, even before the world fell apart, but now it feels more like those abandoned old-west towns tourists used to flock to. The only thing missing is a sarsaparilla fountain and a player piano. We stop at the only cafe that seems to be structurally sound, let alone open. 

There are no waitresses, no truckers sitting at the counter drinking coffee, only an obese man sitting by the window to the grill. He looks up from whatever he was staring at below the counter. 

“All we got is beans and bread.”

I nod and motion to my daughter, who is now disguised as a man as well. Disguised is a pretty loose term as all we had was the oversized clothes my dad had left behind. She looks like Charlie Chaplin on an especially scrawny day.

“We’ll take two.”

He sighs and stands. “We have some work out back that needs done I suppose.”

“We have money.”

He stops, and looks to us with one sweaty eyebrow raised higher than the other.

“Money? Real cash?”

“Yeah, $20 okay?”

I might as well have been Ed McMahon coming to his door with an oversized check. He looks like he might have a heart attack right where he stands.

“Yeah, yeah, that should do.”

He disappears into the back.

I motion to a booth and we sit.

I don’t like it when people act that eager over cash, it doesn’t typically indicate good tidings. I reach down to my calf, pulling the cylindrical tool out of its hiding place. It’s not the intended use, but it will do if this sweaty man does what I think he’s gonna do.

Mary looks down, then around, then to me, then back down. She has the face of someone who has so many questions that her mind has no logical place to start.

I whisper to her, “Be ready, I don’t trust this.”

She pauses, thinks of a thousand more questions, represses them, and nods.

“Can I get a coffee?” This is her first question in hours. Good as any place to start I guess. 

“If they have it.”

The fat man comes stumbling out of the kitchen, two plates in his hands. He looks to me as his slides the plates on the table in front of us.

“Sorry, don’t get much business anymore, especially the paying kind.”

I loosen my grip on the tool, maybe I’m wrong. 

“Do you have coffee?” Mary squeaks this out, as if the question is dangerous.

“Yeah, yeah we do. Not good coffee, but we technically have some. Just the one?”

I nod. “Thanks.”

I’m trying not to notice the yellow-stained parts of his shirt, the history of past sweat.

“Okay, I’ll get a coffee. I’ll be right over there if you need anything else.”

I relax, putting the tool away. This world has me jumpy.

“You don’t drink coffee?” She is still whirring with questions but can’t quite get herself past pleasantries. 

“Never really had a taste for it, reminds me of Sunday mornings at the church. That smell of burnt, cheap coffee while I served pancakes. 

“Church?”

“Yeah, I was a preacher, believe it or not. Every third Sunday was the pancake social.”

“Now your not? Cause of all this?”

“Nah, I quit before all this. Lost my faith, became an atheist. I chose the wrong pony.”

“I didn’t grow up religious or anything, but I’m not sure anyone bet on this particular pony.”

I smile with a twinge of pride, my daughter was clever.

“No, I suppose they didn’t.”

The fat man sits down a disturbingly viscous cup of coffee in front of Mary, she smiles politely.

“Thank you very much.” My daughter has manners too.

As soon as he plops back down in his spot, I turn to Mary.

“You can’t drink that.”

She now smiles politely too, “Thanks for looking out, but I’m not confident this isn’t just motor oil. I’ll stick to the questionable water.”

God I love this girl.

We start eating, the plates and utensils clinking against each other, filling the diner with some approximation of normalcy. This must be what a family dinner is like. I think she must be thinking the same thing.

“So my family? Are they near here?”

I nod uncomfortably. I really needed to figure out how to come clean.

“Surprise Arizona, should get there in about eight hours after the fine cuisine here.”

“How many are still around?”

“Just your mom.”

She nods slowly, “Do you think she’ll be okay with me showing up?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t she be?”

She puts her fork down and looks out the window.

“She wasn’t okay the first time I showed up. Gave me away.”

I look out the window, following her gaze, as I try and pretend she didn’t just pierce my heart. 

A group of cars are pulling into the diner’s parking lot. 

“That’s a lot of people for him not seeing much business.”

She was right, something is wrong. I should trust my instincts.

I turn to look at the fat man, he’s staring back at me; his black-bean teeth smiling wide. 

“I think we’re gonna need the rest of your cash…and the young lady there.”