The First Kiss

I waited several hours for Kiddo to return. He did not, so sadly I walked in the direction of the lights from the previous evening. I walked near the barrier, which was nothing but the dregs of gigantic rocks, which blocked access to the busy highway. I came to the crest of a hill that overlooked the building with the lights. It was a large filling station with fuel pumps and another large building. A neon sign flashed Dale’s Restaurant. After sitting exposed for a good while and nothing remarkable occurred, I returned up the trail looking for a place to hide my bow and quiver. I found a spot ten feet off the trail and marked it with a blaze marks. I returned to the trail and made it down the hill, crossed the hard road and reached the entrance. I looked through the glass and located the restrooms. I entered by the back door and headed directly to the restrooms with my head down, not looking around. I thought I was unobserved by anyone. My heart was beating to the point I could feel it in my chest. My stomach knotted in fear as I entered with uncertainty. Why was I so fearful of this encounter? My appearance made me not presentable, but I was more fearful of rejection.
I looked in the mirror at the image that looked back. We did not have a mirror this large at home. Mom had a smaller one for personal use. I was shocked at what was looking at me. Besides being filthy, I was thinner; my face bones were clearly visible. My white hair was brown and caked with dirt, leaves, and twigs. I looked tired in my lightless eyes. I hung my backpack on a handle of the sink. Using the soap available, I cleaned up as best as I could, but my forehead had brown streaks from the rivulets running down from my hair. I used my fingers to comb my wet hair. Some additional debris came out, but I still looked a mess. I wiped my forehead again.
I went back outside the building and surveyed the restaurant. There were two entrances. On this side, I had to pass tables filled with customers; they were all pink folk. On the other side, I could enter and immediately sit at the counter. I entered the latter and sat at the first stool. A man approached. Just the way he carried himself I knew life was about to become difficult. He had black hair, thick eyebrows, and a heavy beard, a forceful looking person. The scowl told me I was invading his clean restaurant. He just looked at me and spoke nary a word.
“Can I have a glass of water please?”
He did not answer.
I thought, “Do I look so bad that he isn’t going to acknowledge my presence?”
“I’m really thirsty.”
Nothing and then I noticed he did not seem focused on me, but he was looking through me; his focus was somewhere else.
“I have money,” and I placed a dollar on the counter top. Then, I placed one on the first one. Then I placed another and then another and finally I said, “Whiteboy doesn’t beg.” In need of food, I pulled out the last can of sardines I had and as I placed my finger on the key, he said, “Don’t do that.” It was as though he had been in a trance.
“What can I get you?” He asked kindly.
“I would like some brown beans with collard green, smashed taters, some corn bread, sweet milk, and a cup of coffee. I can pay sir,” I added.
“That is all you want,” Dale Parker stated.
“Yes sir. I can pay sir.”
He stared at me, and I thought I was out the door. “Please sir.”
“Do you want a bowl or plate?” He asked.
“I would like a bowl for the beans and a plate for the rest, if you please, sir.”
He returned with the coffee and the water. I drained the glass and sipped the hot coffee. The bowl of beans and collard was next with the corn bread on a small plate.
He walked away, but I could see him watching me eat. I emptied the coffee cup, but I ate the beans slowly. I saw him coming towards and surprise he sat on the other side of the counter. He placed a bowl of beans for himself and set a coffee urn beside us. “I’m in the mood for a bowl of beans myself and here is an urn of coffee. I see you like your joe. I hope you don’t mind me joining you.”
“No sir I don’t mind at all. I haven’t spoken to another person in many months.”
“From where are you coming and to where are you going young man?”
“I’m from Coaling sir and I am just going.”
“You are traveling alone then with no place to go.” He said as though he knew about me.
“Yes sir, except I had a dog as a friend, but he ran away. I needed him, but he ran for some reason; I guess I needed him too much.”
“How long have you been traveling?”
“What is the date?”
“Why it is April 25th.”
“I started on Thanksgiving when I left my home.”
“Where’s your home and family?”
“I lived alone through the winter and before that I lived in Coaling with my parents. They both died, and I have been on my own since.”
“I’m sorry to hear that; you are an orphan then, and you have no place to stay. Would you like to stay here in this building? I'm in need of employee.”
“Yes sir. Do you own this restaurant?” I inquired while looking around the room.
“Yes I do. It is a family owned business that my wife and I started,” he said with a smile.
With enthusiasm, I answered, “Yes, I would like a job here.”
“Do you know how to work?”
“Yes sir; I labor long and hard.”
When the beans and corn bread were finished, I started on the taters; he asked, “Have some more beans,” as he once again filled my coffee cup.
“No sir, but thank you. I am full. I can pay.” My meal was less than fifty cents, so I removed everything but a dollar bill from the counter.
He did not take the money. “Mister; I am a good boy. I do not steal. I love Jesus. Please is there a place here I can safely rest?”
He did not reply. He was looking through me again. The clock read nearly 3 P.M. He turned and walked away.
“Please, I can pay sir. Please.” I pleaded with my hands clasped, but he seemed not to hear me.
He ignored me and picked up the phone and without taking his eyes off me he spoke into it for a few moments, and then he returned to me. “I do not doubt what you have already said; I just want to be sure. You are completely alone, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean by alone?”
“You don’t have parents; am I right?”
“Yes sir” I mumbled softly.
“How old are you?”
“I am thirteen and I am fearful of you sir.”
“Oh, no, no” he moaned. “Son, please don’t fear me; I am your friend. I see you are in desperate need, and I am going to care for you. I will never bring harm to you.”