The light changed and he lurched the pickup through it, rushing to try and catch the next green light. it turned yellow and the car in front of us wasn’t so bold. He muttered some inaudible swear word, ran his hands through his hair and then loosened his tie. I watched him with sideways eyes. If he looked my way, my eyes would bolt straight ahead in the direction I was facing. I was facing south. the setting sun starred at his profile too.
I starred out the window. I noticed a little girl standing out side a phone booth. The little girl was wearing worn out pink shorts and a grey tank top that might have once been white. She was looking down at her turned in feet. The girl looked up and was crying. I looked through the parking lot, there had to be at least seven cars and a semi. People were hustling back and forth between greasy smudged convenience store doors and fueled up cars. The light changed green, he let off the break and then slammed it back down. the cowardly car did nothing.
“Go lady.” He was gripping the wheel, “go lady.” He said it as if she was taunting him on purpose and this was his warning to her.
I couldn't take my eyes from the little girl and the chaos this gas station had bred. I noticed a pickup with two men in it, they were starring at the little girl who was only about 4 feet to the left of there rusted out pick-up. our horn was honking.
“Turn in here.” I said. He shot me a confused look. “Turn in here!”
“we are late enough, we don’t have-“
“TURN.” I said, and I could here my mothers voice echoing through the interior of the truck.
We turned in, he muttered a more audible swear.
“park here.” I was already half out the door before he even had the truck stopped.
I walked across the pavement, with fierce determination, the point of my heels stabbing the ground and various parking lot debris with each step.. The heat was baring down on me. I reached the sticky, teary eyed little girl. I knelt down trying not to fall off my heels.
“where is your mom?” I said.
The little girl looked at me, she smelled sour.
“She said to wait here,” she said through sticky fingers.
“she is inside the store?”
The little girl pulled her dirty hand from her mouth and nodded.
“should we go in and find her?”
Shaking her head she said, “ no mommy said that I had to stay right here.”
“how long have you been standing here?” I heard him honk the horn, I ignored it. “how long have you been standing here?” the little was looking at the red pickup that had honked. “how long have you been standing here?”
The little girl just shrugged her shoulders, not sure what to say.
Grabbing her hand I started walking the little girl inside, “come on, lets go find your mom.” She didn’t protest. I could feel the two men in the rusted pickup starring us down as we walked by. my own paranoia setting in and sending up road flare warnings kidnappers. rapers. scary dirty men.
I pulled the door open and the smell of nachos and cigarette smoke was strong. I looked around the store, there were people milling about but no women that looked like mothers. “do you see her?”
the little girl looked around but said nothing. The store attendant was eyeing us. Dirty, beardy old man. I squeezed her hand. He twisted the ends of his goatee with his fingers and kept starring. I could hear honking outside, I glanced at him, he looked irratated. The rusted out pickup was gone. one burning flare just went out. Someone grabbed my arm from behind.
“what do you think you are doing with her?!” turning aroud I came face to face with a girl my age with long red hair.
“is she yours?” I asked. The look her face and the little girl letting go of my hand and grabbing the red head's leg was my answer.
“Who do you think you are?! You can’t just go around grabbing children." She continued to yell at me. I froze. I was so confused. I didn't know what was happening. my heart was in my throat. for a second I left confusion and tried to figure out how I even got here. I just wanted to get out of the store.
I said, “i'm sorry I just thought she looked scared ourside and there were these men, I just- I am sorry.” I turned and clicked out of the store with rude comments flowing from the red head. I looked back and the little gril was crying again.
He honked again at me. I got in the truck. I started to cry. I was embarrassed. he looked at me.
"Do you know them?" he asked.
I cried harder.
He froze, "hey, come here," he reached for me.
"DON'T." I burbled out between sobs, hating him, hating that gas station, hating that red head, hating heels, hating horns, hating myself, "don't."
