She stood and shook his hand as he leaned over the table to reach her more easily. They both sat down and she immediately reached into her purse and pulled out a small legal pad and a pocket tape recorder.
Eric raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “I didn’t think this interview would be so formal.” The look that she returned forced him to look away in embarrassment.
In a voice that he recognized from a brief phone conversation the previous day, she explained. “We may be a small town paper, but the Times Record takes reporting very seriously.” She recited the line with much indignation and a little monotony hinting that she regularly combated the lack of respect associated with Podunk periodicals.
She clicked the record button, waited two seconds, and spoke. “This is Martina Cook speaking with doctor Eric Wagner. First question: How long have you been an M.D.?”
Eric snapped out of his daze and shifted his eyes away from her plump breasts. “Six years.”
“Where did you graduate?”
“University of North Carolina.” He responded without pause.
“Is that where you are from?” She curiously asked.
“No, I moved there for educational purposes.” He tried to keep his answers short.
“Where are you from?”
“All over. I’ve moved quite a bit.” He tried to disarm her with a smile.
“Where do you call ‘home’?” She tried an alternate approach.
“Fayette.” He wanted to laugh at his own brilliant sidestep.
“Where does your family reside?” She approached again, trying to keep her cool.
“No living relatives.” He answered with finality.
“If you don’t want to take the interview seriously, why did you agree to do it?” She snapped at him.
“I am taking it seriously.” He retorted, sounding defensive.
“Then why aren’t you answering my questions?”
“I have answered them, all of them.” He calmed himself down with slow deep breaths. He was going to have to comply a little or she would become really suspicious. In a repentant tone, he made her an offer dripping with practiced sincerity. “Let’s start over. Ask me from the beginning.”
Ms. Cook sighed, no longer excited about the interview. “Fine.” She glanced down at her notes and began again. Effortlessly dancing around the answers (giving just enough to satisfy while avoiding certain areas), he finished the conversation without exposing his secret shame.
***
The car swiftly covered the road leading home. Not familiar with some of the regional fast food chains, Jean Creed asked, “What the hell is a Jack’s?” No one answered her question. David sullenly kept his eyes on the road, trying not to scream at his wife.
Finally, the tension reached the high-water mark. “Can I get a home cooked meal, Mrs. Working woman? We have eaten at every place in this town except Jack’s apparently.”
Jean responded in kind. “I’m sorry to interrupt your patriarchy by expecting the same consideration for the time I put in at work, too.”
“You’re unemployed!” He shouted.
“Because you forced me to move to this piece of shit town. I could still have a town house in New York if not for you!”
Cara sat in the back of the car ignoring them and watched as the Caprice passed McDonald’s. She caught a glimpse of Bryant’s truck and suddenly longed to see him, even if it was across a counter and a tray of greasy food. “Pull into McDonald’s Dad.”
“Don’t you start with me too!” He turned on his daughter.
She fought back. “We’ve got to eat and it’s right there. You don’t want to stop fine, but there are only so many places to choose from in a town of five thousand.”
“Fine.” He spun the wheel to go back to Micky D’s. “Let’s eat at el cheapo, again. I swear you’d think she had a sexual attraction to that place.”
Cara smiled thinking to herself, “No, just a cashier.”
***
Martin happened to pull into Burger King but saw Cara walking with her family into the shop across the street. Bryant worked there. The rejected boy went inside and ordered thinking about how the girl had pushed him aside for a fast food worker. Didn’t she know that his family had money? He was going to go someplace one day. Bryant was going to flip burgers and pay on that crappy trailer for the rest of his life. Women were so illogical. The meal tasted like ashes in his mouth (but not because it was flame broiled too long) as he stared from his booth into the windows across the street. She watched Bryant as if he would disappear if she looked away. Martin felt sick inside watching her watch someone else.
In the air-conditioned interior of Burger King, Martin felt something inside of himself break. It was not his heart, but the part of him that had convinced himself that people could like him regardless of his parent’s money. The epiphany crushed his spirit. As he ate his hamburger and extra-large fries, he began to feel his eyes water. He finished his meal, silently crying with his back turned to the counter and most of the patrons. When finished, he calmly stood and walked over to the trashcan, dumping the discards through the swinging door above the receptacle. He walked out, slipping into his Mustang and driving off into the night.
His turns and twists became aimless but he found himself surrounded by other cars and trucks on the strip. As he looked out the window, people laughed on the sidewalks, girls gripped their boyfriends as if someone else were planning to steal their trophies away. Martin ignored them and continued driving by. He did not belong on the strip. He knew stopping would be a huge mistake. That was not his crowd and getting out to force himself into someone else’s social circle would prove how desperate he was.
“Not tonight.” He mouthed the words out the window at the crowded sidewalks and darkened storefronts. “I’d rather be alone than be the fifth wheel.” To further fight the temptation, he eased his foot on the gas causing the small knots of teenagers to pass by faster. Seconds later, he passed the last traffic light on the strip and slid from their grasp.
***
McDonalds’ golden arches darkened as a small switch in the office fell into the off position. Bryant wiped down the stainless steel with a fuzzy mitten and a bottle of milky white cleaner. He spied Robert behind the grill scrubbing as hard as he could with a packet of yellow high temp cleaner and a long handle scrub brush. Steam curled up from the still hot surface as the poorly paid boy slaved above it. Bryant smiled thinking about how Cara had just walked in for no reason other than to see him - the way the door swung open and she strode in with a mission, heading straight for his line.
Bryant had given her his best grin and said the magic words “Welcome to McDonalds’. May I take your order?”
She had smiled and ordered a grilled chicken sandwich combo. Then she leaned in close and said, “Add a kiss to that order.”
Bryant obliged her quickly darting forward to sneak a quick chicken peck kiss. His manager later reprimanded him because a customer had complained. It was worth it, even though he came close to losing his job.
Robert of course defended him in his own uncouth way. “Excuse me.” He had poked his head into the office where Bryant was being written up. “I don’t think he should get in too much trouble. I mean it was just a kiss. It’s not like he finger banged her and touched someone’s fries.”
Bryant chuckled remembering it. He would have to tell Cara at school tomorrow. He wanted to shout from the rooftops and cartwheel down the streets but he managed to keep it bottled up. He went back to wiping off the counters and assorted workstations preparing to go home for the night. His chores came to an abrupt close when the phone blasted out with a burst of rings. Since he was close to the phone, Bryant decided to answer it.
Placing the receiver to his ear, he said, “Hello. This is McDonalds’.”
Cara’s voice sweetly rolled out of the earpiece. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”
Bryant’s face brightened with the realization that he was speaking to her again. “Thank you, but why are you up so late? We’ve got school tomorrow.”
“I know but I couldn’t sleep.” She sounded excited but slightly melancholy.
“So, what were you doing?” He asked, curious for any knowledge about her.
“Listening to The Cure.” She said with a certain amount of relish.
“Really, why The Cure?”
“I just feel like listening to The Cure.” She paused.
Before she could say more, a shout came from the manager’s office. “Some of us want to go home, lover boy!”
“Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” They exchanged quick goodbyes and Bryant performed a short victory dance. “She loves me. She loves me.” He repeated in a singsong fashion as he went back to his appointed tasks. He pointed at Robert and continued singing, even though the grill worker had flipped him off. “Your middle finger doesn’t change the fact she loves me.”
Robert laughed. “Next time, I’ll tell the boss to fire you.”
***
After school the next day, Bryant waited by the exit to the student parking lot looking for Cara. The lovely girl slipped into view and he called her over. A few passing students looked his way but kept going, seeing who he was addressing. Cara dodged in between passing cheerleaders and paused in front of him. “Hey.” She waited for his response.
“Hey.” He whispered back “I need to pick up some groceries and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”
“That sounds exciting.” She said in a monotone.
Bryant smiled and tried to determine whether that was expressed in sarcasm or earnestly; her voice always sounded the same. “It’s not exciting but I would just like to have you with me.”
She smiled back. “I’d love to.”
Bryant escorted her out to his truck. Standing under the overcast sky, he brushed her hair back. “I feel bad.”
“Why?”
“Normal dates are an impossibility.” He shook his head. “I just don’t have the money to take you to the theater in Tuscaloosa. I don’t have the gas to drive anywhere. I can’t provide you with the standard boyfriend experience.”
Cara reached out and took his hand. “Don’t care about that. I just like being around you.”
He pulled her close in an embrace. “Why do you like me?”
She buried her face in his chest and whispered. “I fell for you when you saw straight through me.”
“What do you mean?” He leaned back and looked her in the eyes.
She shyly smiled. “I don’t want to say it.” The girl stroked his arm. “You just knew so much about me without even knowing me.” She felt like crying with relief but restrained herself. She had bottled up all the feelings for so long that the vanished weight of being alone in the world made her giddy.
Bryant just held her for a minute, oblivious to the stares of commuters passing on the way to their cars. When she had sufficiently recovered, Bryant opened the door for her and they drove to the grocery store.
The couple found themselves pushing a cart under fluorescent lights, between walls of canned goods. Cara grabbed a small pack of ground beef from a refrigerated bunker but Bryant shook his head. “Get the family pack. I can wrap it in smaller chunks and freeze it. It’s cheaper by the pound that way.”
Cara smiled. “That’s a good idea.” She replaced it and picked up a larger pack wearing a bright red sticker reading: 20 cents cheaper per pound! “Who taught you that trick?”
Bryant examined a tray of boneless chicken. “I figured it out myself.”
“Clever boy!” She cooed. “I think that deserves a kiss.” She leaned in and quickly pecked him on the lips, unsure of how far a public display of affection could go in a small town grocery store.
Bryant grinned, struggling to come up with something witty. “If I knew talking about raw meat got you hot, I’d have brought you here a lot sooner.” As soon as the words escaped his mouth, he felt dumb for having made such a statement. Cara paid it no mind though, and he felt relieved.
During the tour of the produce department, Bryant picked up a flimsy plastic bag and began stuffing it with loose mushrooms from a black plastic bin. He excitedly asked Cara, “Have you ever had these things fried?”
She playfully remarked, “You Southerners fry everything.”
“Because it tastes good.” He hugged her waist.
“Can you cook?” She asked trying to imagine him behind a stove.
“Come home with me and find out.” He gave her a sly wink.
His offer was enticing. “I’m not sure.” She hesitated. “My parents don’t know where I am and the weather’s supposed to be terrible.”
“Well, if you must, just know that my fried mushrooms and delicious chicken parmagiana will go to waste.” He stuck his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout.
She put a hand on each of his smooth cheeks and kissed him again. “I can’t resist that obviously sincere expression. I’ll come with you.”
While checking out at the register, Cara thought about the simple act of grocery shopping in a new light. She felt a little more grown up, a little more independent, and a little more like a mature woman with her lover. Of course, she and Bryant had not consummated anything, but being a lover was not all about sex.
As they were driving away from town, the sky darkened. When they reached his driveway, the first far off rumble of thunder menaced. As they pulled plastic bags from the bed of his truck, the first drops of rain fell out of the deep gray clouds. Cara squealed as she ran inside, two bags clenched in each hand. Bryant called after her. “It’s just water!” Then he ran up the cinder-block steps, his arms full of bags as well.
Inside, the pair heard a sudden increase in raindrops hitting the roof. “Just in time.” Bryant congratulated himself as each individual drop multiplied to become a torrent.
Cara looked around the dim trailer and asked, “Can we get some light?”
Bryant reached out and flipped an off-white switch, cursing when no light sprang forth. “This happens all the time.” He explained. “It’ll take forever to come back on. They’ll fix the outages in town first.”
Ever practical, he reached into a kitchen drawer and pulled out a lighter. “The stove is gas, so I can still cook. I also have some candles and a lamp for light.”