Page 13 of Day Break

When I stepped out on the front deck area, I realized why I hadn’t seen it. It was at the base of the big sign that held the gas prices. Actually, the small half booth was part of the metal pole holding up the large numbers.

I lifted the receiver and relaxed when I heard the dial tone.

Using my last dimes, I dialed the number I’d been given for my parole officer.

I was only obligated to make the one call. The terms of my sentence stated that after my initial check-in, I wouldn’t have to be on any kind of long-term parole. If this first call went well, I’d be good to go, so I’d practiced what to say.

Still, when the man answered the call, a bead of sweat rolled down my back as I lied to him about where I was. Yes, I told him, I had a place to stay. Yes, I had been looking for jobs. No, I didn’t need any assistance.

I hung up, relieved that that part of my life was behind me. My last obligation for the crime I had not committed was over. I was officially freed from the hell that used to be my life.

I dug in my pocket and counted my change. I figured I would have enough for something small, maybe a bag of chips or an apple.

When I stepped back into the store, the woman was watching me.

“The phone worked. Thank you,” I told her as I turned to slowly walk down each aisle. I was slightly shocked at how much everything cost. A small candy bar was more than a dollar.

Had items always been this expensive?

In the end I picked out a loaf of day-old bread and some string cheese. I paid while the green-haired woman eyed me cautiously. She looked at my change as if she expected it to bite her and then pushed it along the counter until it dumped into the drawer uncounted.

She didn’t offer to bag the items for me. Instead, she turned to greet a newcomer who had stepped into the small store.

“Afternoon, Rod,” she said with a bored tone. She turned back to her crossword puzzle as I gathered my items and stepped aside.

“Well, well, what have we got here?” a man’s voice said, causing me to look up.

A large man roughly my age filled the doorway. His girth blocked out most of the light from the glass doors. I couldn’t see his face clearly, but by the tone in his voice, I knew I was in trouble.

The man moved closer to me, his body growing larger and more intimidating as he drew nearer. I hugged my items to my chest and looked for my escape.

He didn’t stop until he was a breath away from me.

“You must be new in town,” he said. His smile would have appeared friendly if I hadn’t seen the spark of something deeper in his eyes. His voice lowered so that only I would hear his next words. “I could show you around town. Maybe have a good time while we’re at it?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

I sidestepped and tried to pass him, not wanting to respond.

His hand came up, gripping my arm tightly, blocking my escape. I tried to jerk it free and dropped my items, which he quickly stepped on. Whether by accident or not, my bread was now a smooshed clump inside the bag.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size for once, Rod?” a deep voice sounded from the diner area.

I glanced over and, to my horror, saw that everyone in the diner was watching the show.

I didn’t know who had spoken. I didn’t care. Thankfully, Rod dropped his hold on me. I took that moment of freedom and sprinted out the door, minus my bread.

I ran until my lungs burned, until I felt myself on the verge of passing out. Then I ran some more.

Every few moments I’d steal a glance over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed. That Rod wasn’t coming after me.

I’d lived through hell once. I refused to do it again.

When I reached the safety of my hiding spot, I collapsed face-first into the soft grass.

I was so busy trying to catch my breath, I didn’t see the apple at first. My sides hurt, my head hurt, and I desperately wanted to cry. But I’d told myself long ago that wasn’t a luxury I could afford any longer.

Tears were for the weak. I no longer fit that description.

When I’d caught my breath, I rolled over and, seeing the apple, smiled. Suddenly, my heart felt lighter.