At one point in time I was twenty two years old and I had a job down at Carl's Jr on White Avenue with my friends. At the time I was always short on cash and I wasn't exactly looking forward to anything my future had in store for me. It was a slow day at work, my boss had made it a point to leave early and left one of my friends, who so happened to be assistant manager, to watch over us so we didn't botch anything up. I was tired, I didn't do much, and the things I did do like sweeping the floor and cleaning the tables did not help or in the slightest, wake me up from my autopilot. Earlier in my shift, few of us gathered to the window to rubberneck at the traffic accidents that startled the customers as they ate. Out of the beaten path for most things, but really, nothing special, all a regular day at my job that got me lower and lower into the ground than I could have expected.
It was snowing that day, too.
I was leaning against the drive-thru window, occupied with my thoughts and waiting until my shift ended. Everyone had long since left, and the emptiness of the place made me a tad restless. I was the only one on shift at this point, we knew the boss would have a fit, but he was out of town so everyone took the rest of the night off while I stayed behind and watched over the place.
White Avenue.
The snow covered the ground of the drive-thru. Grass was coated in white essence from the dark sky, and the sounds of the night filled my ears: cars, engines, human beings with places to be walking to and from the bus stop. White Avenue was a long, wide street that went on for miles. I don't remember how many, but some say it was about eight to twelve with stoplights in between. Night shifters, graveyard shifters, long distance employment, it was all the same in that we never spoke to each other about twenty four hours after another twenty four hours. At times it wasn't so much this town that got me down, it was the avenue itself that made me think that nothing beyond the snow that covers everything exists.
"Stay," it whispered to me when I set my eyes on the dark dashes between the telephone poles. "Where you belong is here, with me in the whitest recesses of my avenue, washing away in the night and dazzling bright lights. Even birds have flight, this wind can carry a kite, everything is connected and go together perfectly in your sight, and then there is you. Where do you belong? You wish you were gone, you wish you were strewn along, like sound, one ear to the other, the laughter of a newborn to a mother, you are connected and all is well and where you belong is what time will tell. "
Right there and then, did I see a waving of headlights approach the drive thru none but a few flickers.
I heard rap music. The kind I like, not the basic stuff. I can't explain how this particular song sounded though, it sounds... nice. An old beat up Toyota pulls up next to the window, and that began a moment I'll never forget.
When I saw that man, he parked his car, wiped tears out of his eyes and tore off the buttons on his suit so hard that the fell off and his top hung there. His face was super red and his eyes looked messed up. If this were any other moment, I would have probably assumed he's high, but at that moment I wasn't sure how long he had been crying, how many hours, seconds, maybe even days he had been like that. In an instant, I felt for him. Rap music, the good kind, blaring out his speakers in his car, his head turned to me and he yelled out... incoherent mess of words. Like sobbing in between each word didn't make it harder to hear, he'd stutter each sentence and I could barely make out what he was saying.
"G-Give me a number 1," he mumbled, barely looking out from the rim of his window.
"You don't order here, sir. You passed the speaker-"
"N-No one answered." He raised his voice, choking back his tears, sniffing his nose, and tearing off his shirt tie after.
"Okay okay, sorry I forgot, I'm the only one here-"
"G-Give me a number one!"
"Right sorry," I went away from the window and suddenly comprehended that no one but me is here, and then that there was an order no one collected earlier, a number one in fact, which was a large soda with fries and a big burger. Simple. I picked it up from under the counter making sure no one saw, and not surprised, no one did. I went back to the window and he was right there with his head against the steering wheel, presumably still crying. I wanted to ask at that point but I felt as if it wasn't my business to do so.
"T-Thanks," he handed me a blue debit card and I ran it through before giving him his meal. He nodded his head quickly, which I couldn't really see.
I guess he turned off his car while he was waiting for me. He started fumbling with his keys, and went he twisted it back in the ignition slot, his car made a loud roar and then failed. It was silent while I watched him stare at his keys, still in there. He twisted it again, the car did not start. He did it a third time, and it almost quite made it, then failed.
He slammed his fists against the steering wheel, which from where I was standing looked pretty silly, seeing all that snow cover the roof of his car and him enraged and practically ready to beat the thing up.
