Last Time

“This is the last time I’m gonna call you Mike”.

I look over the grey payphone at the green and white gas station that brightens the endless dark road, leading into a man-made desert. There’s no one in sight for miles except for the cactuses and animals that are chasing after the same thing as me: home.

“I’m serious Mike, I need your help. Pick me up at Jerry’s Gas station. I’ll be waiting here.”

I place the phone back on the stand. I look down at my blue ripped jeans and ripped white t-shirt that seems to be more distracting than the green crocs with mud stains on them. I turn around and sigh with unease, facing the dirt road. I place my blue sweater over my shoulders to cover the shame I’m attempting to hide. The gas station is empty. There are no cars or people to hide from but I feel like the whole world has its eyes on me. There is one thing that has its eyes on me: a brown owl, sitting perfectly on a cactus across from the station. Its eyes are bright enough to shine on my dark-black skin. Yet, here I am searching for some type of light to be guided into.

I’m afraid to walk into the gas station for food and water. I have no bag or ID to even buy beer. All I have is three dollars in my jeans pocket. What do I even get with three dollars?: Water and chips.

I walk over to the entrance of the gas station and stand by the doors. The entrance has two glass double doors with a white ice machine a few feet from it. The cashier is standing on the register on his cell phone. You can just tell he’s ready to get off work. But it’s 3 am and that means he’ll most likely be here till sunrise. At least I have some form of company.

The palms of my hands feel sweaty. I can feel them shaking as my face draws closer to the glass. I grab onto the dollar bills in my pocket as if my survival depends on it (it actually does). My right-hand is hesitant but still makes way to grab the white handle on the door. I pull it open with the same strength I’m using to actually go inside.

The right door opens as I pull it open gently. A bell rings, a daunting sound to my ears, to alert the cashier that someone just came in. The cashier looks at me cautiously as I walk in. He’s wearing a green company shirt with the gas station name “Jerry’s” on the right side of his chest. His soft-brown straight hair makes up for his pale white skin. He places his phone in his pocket to avoid looking distracted from his job. I glance at him and then look away quickly to face the aisle in front of me. I’m hoping that he sees me as a regular person rather than a stranger who needs help.

I walk into the middle of the three aisles where all of the chips are stocked. All of the chips are perfectly placed together, almost as if no one ever touches them. I look for the Salt-n-Vinegar chips that just happened to be at the bottom of the row. I bend down to grab them. As I bend down, I can hear the rip in my jeans make an even bigger hole. Another problem on the list of my problems. I look to my right to see the brown owl still staring at me with its bright eyes through the glass entrance doors. I’m not sure how something so far could feel so close. But by this point, the staring was more than odd, it felt intentional.

I grab the chips and quickly walk to the freezer on the far right of the store where the bottled waters were. I open the freezer door to grab the smallest water bottle I could find. As the freezer door almost made contact with my face I catch the cashier staring at me only to quickly look away. There wasn’t much to look at but I could see how my current look would make anyone stare. I close the freezer door and stare at my reflection. I notice my curly and messy black bun, remembering how my mother would say this is not “ladylike” of me to look like this. I close my eyes as I breathe in deep and exhale even deeper. I prepare myself to walk up to the register. This will be the first conversation I’ve had with anyone in the past two days that I’ve spent walking from the hotel I was left at.

I walk up to the register where the cashier is glancing down at his phone again. I place the bottled water and chips on the counter and then fix my sweater to look more presentable. He looks down at the two items and then glances at my face. I wait for him to say the right words I need to hear but I know he will only say what he is told to.

“Will that be all ma’am?” He asks me. I look over at his name tag that says “Johnathan”.

I pause with hesitation. My eyes are lost in the thought of what I really need and what I wanted a few days ago. If I had known before that cocaine needed me more than I needed it then I wouldn’t be here needing this transaction.

“Yes, that’s it.” My tone is soft and gentle like the spirit of hope I have left in me. He doesn’t know how much of me it took to say those three words.

He looks at me with both uncertainty and care. “That’ll be 2.59. Do you need a bag?”

I nod my head but continue to look down at the floor, ashamed to even look at myself in the reflection of the glass behind him. He grabs a brown bag from below the counter and begins placing the items in it.

“What brings you here to Arizona?” He asks me as he’s placing the items in the bag. I look at him surprised that he even cares to know of my existence outside of this store.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re from here. If you were, I’m sure you’d know that no one around here is walking. So, what’s your story?”

I hesitate to give him an answer. “A friend. I came down here with a friend.” I respond to him as I continue to look at him shocked that he’s not just a cashier but also a person, who just might care about a stranger.

“And your friend is where now?”

“She left, with a group of people.” I feel comfortable enough to be honest with him. Evidently, I have no idea if I will get another chance to.

He sucks his teeth. “Well, that sucks. Friends don’t leave friends behind.”

I hesitate again, thinking of a response to his statement. “She wasn’t really my friend. I was just something she needed.”

Now he’s looking at me with shock. “And what was it that she needed from you?”

I look down, pondering on the thought of why Samantha left me behind to go on a bus with strangers.

“Someone to make her feel better. But I ended up bringing myself down trying to get someone to the top.”

He and I look at each other in deep thought and stare, almost as if we have an understanding of each other through a few simple words. Our eyes lock onto each other intensely as I grab onto the three dollars in my pocket.

“If it helps, you should know this. Bridges aren’t built starting from the sky. Those construction workers have to know what the bottom of the water looks like so they know how far up they can go. Otherwise, we’d all be underwater.”

I smile at him, the first smile I’ve made in days. “Can I ask you what’s with that owl across the street? Is it always there and staring at people intensely?”

He laughs at my question. “Only if you give it a reason to. Most people think owls are some sort of cursed animals or signs of something bad. I just think the little fella is there watch over those who don’t think they’re actually seen. If he sees you then it’s probably because you were hoping someone does.”

I look at him confused. I stare back at the owl through the glass window as I pull the three single bills out of my pocket. I hand him the money in his hand. “Thanks, I needed that.”

He smiles back at me. “No problem. And good luck on building that bridge.”

I grab the brown bag as I walk away from the counter. I head to the doors with more confidence than I walked in with. But still, I don’t know why this owl is watching me.

As I step outside of the gas station I see a white man with a brown cowboy hat, red plaid shirt, blue jeans, and black cowboy boots standing by the ice machine. He’s counting his money in his wallet as he watches his monster truck to fill up. I didn’t even notice that someone else showed up.

I open my water bottle and take a sip from it as I stand in front of the double doors. He catches me staring at his truck and gives me a friendly look.

“I can tell you’re not from here”, he says to me in a friendly tone.

I laugh in response, “Is it that obvious?”

“What’s obvious is sometimes what you can’t see. Some people are too focused on what they can see and forget that it takes more than one glance to actually see yourself. Judging from how you look, I can tell you don’t wanna be seen. That’s okay, I’ve been there before.”

I look away from him and look down at the ground. I anxiously play with the rocks on the ground with my green crocs. “So you know what exactly just by seeing me?”

He walks closer to me, assuming that he’s going towards the entrance and inside to pay for gas. “That you waited till you couldn’t see yourself to want to be seen.”

“Some people aren’t worth looking at”, I respond with an annoyed tone as I look at him.

He smirks at my response. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Worth is not about how expensive or good looking something is. It’s about how much damage it can take before it breaks.”

He pauses to grab the white handle on the entrance door. I move aside to allow him to open it. “Whatever it is causing you damage, don’t let it break you.”

He tips his cowboy hat and walks into the store. I watch him with my side-eye as he walks in. I look back at the owl that continues staring at me, realizing that this whole time I’ve been staring at it and not the other way around.

A black Honda car comes down the dark-dirt road and pulls into the driveway of the gas station. I notice the familiar license plate, realizing that it’s Mike’s car. As I stare at Mike through the driver’s window coming closer, I notice something different: the owl’s gone.

And my shame is too.