My fingers shake inside of my pockets, a soft tremble that doesn't quit even after I clench my hands into fists. I stare into my reflection of the glass pane of the gas station door for just a moment before it opens from the inside; my normally warm skin has turned pale over the last few months and I know the rich mahogany of my hair, now hidden under my hood, has lost some of its shine. Stepping back, I nod in thanks to the man who walks out, holding it open behind him for me to go in. I smile at the clerk behind the counter as I pass. Pulling my trembling fingers from my pockets, I remove the hood from my head while walking to the small, somewhat messy coffee station.
Grabbing a napkin from the dispenser, I wipe up some spilled creamer that had been left by a previous customer, tossing it and the wet sugar packets that were lying beside it in the trash bin. Standing on my toes, I use one hand to hold my hoodie to my stomach, back from the counter, and the other to reach for a small paper cup and lid while eyeing the cappuccino machine. The caramel vanilla spice is calling my name, but I know without looking that it's more than I want to spend on it. I'm already cutting it close by spending the ninety-nine cents the drip coffee will cost.
With a small sigh, I stick my lid into my pocket instead of setting it on the dirty counter, grabbing a few packets of sugar as I watch my cup fill up. Ripping the tops off, I dump them in and give it a couple of swirls with one of the few wooden stir sticks left. Tossing the trash away, I pull the lid from my pocket and secure it on top. The cup is almost too hot for my hands, my shaky palms lightly burning as I look for a cardboard sleeve with no success. Setting the cup on the counter, I pull my sleeve over my hand instead and re-grab the cup. Eyeing the rest of the room, I notice a few other people have walked in while I was busy with my coffee. Using my free hand, I adjust my hoodie collar, my fingers moving higher to run over my crown to smooth back any loose strands from my ponytail while walking toward the food deli.
Standing before the sandwich deli I bite my lip, lightly tapping the money in my pocket. I have three dollars and fifteen cents. After my coffee, I have just about two dollars for this. I grab a wrap from the top rack, my fingers shaking as I pull it toward me. I swallow as a man steps up next to me, his elbow lightly tapping against my arm as he takes his hand from his pocket to grab a ham and cheese sub. I step aside, staring down at my wrap. I hope he doesn't notice how badly my hands shake as I put it away after seeing the price, and hope that if he does, he just thinks I'm cold. It is still chilly out, the snow just starting to melt on the sidewalks despite the sun shining down for most of the day. My stomach clenches the same time I think about it and I will it not to growl.
It has been days since I've eaten a full meal.
My heart thumps harder every second he stays next to me, my nerves starting to get to me as I try to quickly look at the price tags without making it too obvious. I can tell he's watching me and it makes me even more aware of how odd I must seem, staring so hard at every label. Trying to break the tension gathering in my limbs, I cast him a small smile, peering at him from the corner of my eye as I reach past him to grab a half sandwich. The price tag is faded, but it looks like it's under two dollars.
"Tuna fish from a gas station? You're brave." I huff out a small, kind laugh at his joke. Standing back, I press the sandwich to my chest to help calm my hand. I don't care what I eat at this point, as long as I get to eat.
I offer him a smile instead of an actual answer, turning to walk toward the register. Setting my cup and the sandwich on the counter, another smile is tossed by me, a tight-lipped one while I pull out the few dollars I have from the front pocket of my denim.
"This it?" At my nod, the clerk scans both items, looking from his register to me. "Three fifty-seven."
I take a quick breath, my heart dropping into my stomach. My fingers pinch around the cash in my hand, crumpling the bills in front of me. I can feel someone behind me, and I don't want to cause a scene. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I push the sandwich aside. "I actually think I'll just take the coffee, sorry."
A low chuckle hits my back and I stiffen, watching the clerk shrug. "After all that time you spent picking out the perfect sandwich? I thought you loved tuna."
I throw a quick look over my shoulder, smiling politely even though I want nothing more than to run out of here and to be left alone. There are two men behind me, the same one that was standing near me at the deli and one scowling down at his phone next to him. "I guess I'm not that hungry." It doesn't matter that it's a lie or that my stomach hurts so badly I'm not even sure it'll hold the coffee I'm going to dump into it. I don't owe him any explanation, but I say what I think will appease him and get him to leave me alone.
"Ninety-nine cents, “the clerk says, his face bored as I hand over one of my wrinkled dollars.
Just as he takes it from my hand, my stomach grumbles and I swallow, my teeth clenching as I silently pray no one heard it. I just want to leave with my coffee without another incident.
"You sure you don't want that sandwich?" The clerk is smiling at his joke, putting my dollar into his cash tray.
I start to shake my head, feeling my cheeks heating and my palms getting sweaty. Before I can answer, a ham and cheese sub is slapped down onto the counter by an arm reaching over my shoulder, cash set on top of it.
"Hey, that was min—"
He's cut off by the other man's voice, the one that was standing next to him, and I suppress a shudder as his chest vibrates against my back with each word that leaves his mouth.
"You can get another one." I freeze in place, my heart thumping so loudly I can hear it whooshing in my ears. I wait until his arm retreats before I dare to take a breath, hot puffs that quickly leave my chest. "She'll get both sandwiches."
The end of my ponytail smacks against my cheek as I swing my head to look at him in shock, swallowing hard as I wait for him to meet my gaze. He does, but only briefly, barely sparing me a single second before he's stepping back from me, frowning at his phone once more. I hesitantly grab the bag the clerk offers me with the sandwiches while eyeing the man who paid for them, waiting for him to say something. Say anything. When he doesn't, I grab my coffee and peeking through my lashes, I give him a small smile of gratitude that I'm not even sure he sees before shifting to walk away.
A large hand grabs onto my arm, stopping me as I almost jump out of my skin, my hand trembling so hard that a small bit of coffee spills from the top of the lid to pool around the edge. His dark gaze clashes with mine, a steel gray that matches the sky after a storm as hot coffee drips down the edge of my cup to burn along the edge of my fingers. His hand pinches into the skin of my arm through my sweater, seeping me to the bone with the chill that radiates from his touch. Black defined brows scowl at me from his studiously expressionless face and I have to fight back the urge to burst into tears at the look. It feels like a thousand heartbeats that we stare at each other; my stinging eyes scanning over the muscles ticking in his smooth cheek, over the small part in his full lips, past the slight crook in the middle of his otherwise perfect nose, and up to the tousled ends of his black hair as it sits artfully mused on his head.
It could have only been a few fractured seconds though, and I'm blinking back into his storm-cloud eyes when he speaks, "Take the change." He reaches out to the side, grabbing the cash off of the counter to stuff it into the pocket in the front of my hoodie. Withdrawing both his hands, he gives me a once over as I stand there, lips pressed a way that makes my throat tighten once more.
"Thank you." The words leave my chest in a wobbly whisper, squeezed past the embarrassment wrapped around my lungs. Swallowing thickly, I turn away while avoiding every other gaze I can feel hot on my back, forcing myself to keep an even pace to avoid sprinting out the door like I want to.
Once outside and out of the view of the store windows, I run. The cold breeze hits my cheeks, stinging them pink as I try to run away from my embarrassment and shame. I don't run for long though, my stomach cramping with hunger pains bringing me back down to a labored walk. I don't live far from the gas station, so I push on, my bag of sandwiches banging against my thigh as I hold my stomach with my arm. My coffee is almost half empty having sploshed out onto my arm and the ground as I ran, and I sigh through my quick inhales, annoyed with myself for allowing so much to go to waste.
Shuffling in front of my duplex door, I open my door and walk inside the dark space. I left it unlocked, knowing I'd only be gone for a little while and I'm thankful for it now because I'm sure I would have lost my keys running like a lunatic. Walking to my kitchen, I click on the battery operated light I'd bought at the Dollar Tree and set both my bag and the coffee on the counter. It's not the first time I've had to go without power because I couldn't pay the bill. This month, I had decided that I'd rather pay my gas bill than the electricity bill. It's still cold out and I'd rather be warm in the dark than cold in the light. Paying the gas for the month meant I couldn't buy groceries either though, unfortunately. What I used this morning was what I had left over from the last tip I'd gotten from the diner I work at.
Reaching into my hoodie pocket I feel for the cash that had been shoved in there, slowly pulling out the bills. My fingers are still shaking, but this time it's more from surprise than hunger. Fanning the bills between my fingers, my throat constricts as I stare down at the money, silently counting and recounting to make sure my mind isn’t playing tricks on me. There are almost ninety dollars here. Ninety dollars. I stare down at the money, using my shoulder to wipe away a stray tear that finally managed to sneak out and leak down my cheek. A hiccupping laugh echoes in the small kitchen, one of my hands coming up to cover my lips as I smile through my fingers. Did he realize how much he gave me? I guess it doesn't matter because I have it now.
Setting it on the counter, I open up my bag and pull out the tuna sandwich. I should eat that first since it probably won't last as long as the ham. Unwrapping it, I can't help but smile down at the cash. I can probably convince the power company to turn my power back on if I give them a small payment toward my bill. If I'm smart with the rest, I can get enough food to last until payday next Monday. Taking a bite of my sandwich I drop into one of my kitchen chairs, eyes still on the money sitting on the counter and my thoughts on the man at the gas station. He probably has no idea how much he's helped me. Taking another bite, I smile around it.
Thank you, whoever you are.