Debbie (Blogohphlia 4.6)

The cup sat there, white steam rising slowly from umber depths. Smells of frying pork and eggs drifted into Debbie’s nose. Slipping her hands around the cream colored cylinder, she wondered how long since the waitress filled it?  It must not have been that long, it’s still hot.  

How long had she been gone? Five, maybe six days?  The only reason she pulled into this diner was she needed to pee.  It just didn’t seem right not to buy something from here. Looking out the window, she saw the Watertown city limit sign and another one saying thirty miles to the Canadian border.  

Tucson was dream and in the past. Montreal was the future. There was about $200 left, enough to get her across the border and into the anonymity.  Two years of savings spent in a week.  But it had to be done.  The sight of James and Maritza entwined in her bed had enraged her. She’d known about their affair for a several months. But to have them not even show enough respect to keep it out of her house was too much.  Their moans were so loud they hadn’t heard her come in with the hammer and they were so high anyway, they never reacted.     

Had the bodies been found, yet? There hadn’t been any news reports. She had to assume not. Even so, it may be awhile before the connection between Debbie and the migrant workers would be made. Enough time to cover her tracks and maybe have a little fun.  For no reason, tears began to stream down her cheeks.  She was so tired.  

She was startled by the scrape of the chair next to her.  A small, thin man in an ill fitting security uniform had sat on the stool just to her left.  Balding with a distinct ginger comb-over, he resembled every defeated loser she had ever met.  The scent of loss and longing were all around him.  She just looked down at the cup and hoped he wouldn’t notice.

The little man placed his order.  The waitress brought his cup of coffee and he tipped the sugar jar into it. Stirring the cup slowly, he glanced over towards her.  And he began to stare.  She hated when men stared at her, like she was some product to be used.  This one was no different, she could tell.  He moved his stool a little closer.

“So, Baby.  What’s your sign?

Not that old line. Oh, I’ll go along. 

 “I’m not ‘Baby’. My name’s Debbie, and I am a Capricorn.” She said, sniffling a little.

The man look surprised he actually got a response.  “The name is Chuck Pearson.  I’m a Gemini. I just got off work and there usually isn’t anyone here yet. Did you know you were pretty when you cry?”

Yep. Trying to get somewhere. But he did have a nice voice. “I’m just tired and my eyes water then.  Oh, who am I kidding.  I’ve been on the road for days and I really just need an ear.”

Chuck studied Debbie’s fine featured face.  It was better than any of the local girls, to be sure.  But the lady had the weight of the world on her.

“Why should a pretty lady like you should be so sad?”

“I left my husband.   I caught him with a little Mexican bitch back in Arizona.  I just packed up and left.” Debbie knew the Rube would take this story and she wasn’t disappointed. 

“Well, I heard once that things just don’t happen, they are made to happen.  Whether that’s true or not, I’m not sure. Anyways, the No Good will regret losing such a rare gift as you.”

Debbie smiled and knew the Rube would be good for something. 

“You know, if you want me to be with you until your next shift, that’s alright with me. It;s been a lonely trip, loving someone is a better way to be."  

Chuck put a twenty on the counter and they left, arm in arm.