Travelers

[alaterdate]

Title: Travelers
Rating: G
Wordcount: 638
Genre: Lit Fic

“Come on.” My fingers tap to the rhythm of Kashmir playing on the radio. My foot is pressed firmly on the brake. An old man finally emerges from the sky-blue BMW parked at the pump I’ve been waiting for. He fumbles with his wallet as the instrumental section blares through my crackling speaker. The old man turns and looks at me through my pockmarked windshield with squinted eyes, locks his car, and heads towards the convenience store. “Oh, come on.”

My fuel meter dips dangerously low. The heat outside creates mirages on the pavement, but I can’t keep the air on like this. I cut the engine, place one hand on my driver side window and hold it firmly as I tilt the power switch and hope the glass doesn’t accidentally sink too far down again. Sweat rolls down my temples. Gasoline fumes rush into the truck cab, but my only defense at the moment is to lift my top lip to my nose. A woman scoffs. Tall, blonde, with eyes shooting daggers as she walks past. I catch my own face in the side mirror. The “duck face” does look bad on me. The passenger window goes down fine. Sweat drips some more. Kashmir is still going strong.

“Dad, it’s hot and smelly,” My daughter in the passenger seat complains in a nasally voice, her fingers pinching her nose tight.

“I know sweetheart, we’re just waiting for the pump. They teach you to wait your turn in school, right?”

She laughs, her hands back on the Gameboy thing I managed to buy her last Christmas, one hand shading the screen and the other pressing buttons. “Yeah, in Kindergarten, Dad.”

“And you’re going to third grade after summer?”

“It’s third and fourth grade at the same time!” She beams. I know that she’s joining a mixed grade class next school year, that teachers call her “gifted,” and I know that she likes reminding me, so I pretend to forget and be amazed again every time. “It’s because I learned a lotta words from Pokémon.”

“Grandma’s gonna wanna hear all about that when we get there. She loves that pegachu guy.”

Steph laughs again, shakes her head. Kashmir ends. I turn the truck off entirely. My finger still taps the steering wheel to the beat. The old man finally drives away. I turn the key in the ignition only to be greeted with the tune of a flooding engine.

“Son of a --” I bite my tongue when Steph turns to look at me.

The heat coming off the truck bed burns my hands, but my face burns hotter as everyone in the lot watches me push my dusty truck the few feet to the pump. I stick my card in the machine, watch it closely so I don’t get an overdraft.

“Hey, my truck just--” The first guy on his way to the convenience store waves me off.

“I have the cables I just need--” No luck with the Benz lady parked in front of me.

She’s a little too scared off. I open the truck’s hood, then grab the jumper cables out from behind my seat, so I look as serious as I am. I walk around to the other side of the pump, see an older lady with her husband in a Jaguar, time to play the biggest sympathy card I have. Steph clings to my arm as we walk over.

“Hi, I’m just trying to get home with my daughter and my battery died, would you be willing to give us a jump?”

The woman sticks her head out of the passenger window and looks us up and down. “She doesn’t look like you.”

I look down at my dark brown hand in Stephanie’s olive one. “We’re just trying to get home.”