Drugstore Perfume

Gerard scratched the skin under his gloves as he pulled into the driveway. He has chosen to ignore the burned holes and the vivid stench of smoke still hanging onto the material, despite having quit cigarettes over a year ago. He tilted his head back, both hands clutched tightly at his side just to try and cling onto every last bit of warmth coming from the semi-broken radiator. He silently watched the old-fashioned neon light of the diner flickered on and off for a moment before gathering enough courage to step outside.

The few feet from the mild comfort of his car to the diner was enough for the dry and frigid September air to sneak in the gap between his many layers of shirts. Gerard shivered. He quickly shrugged it off. The open door came with the familiar "Welcome to Auntie's" filled his ears as bored teenager glanced up from behind the counter. Didn't want to bother the kid, Gerard checked the pocket of his military jacket for a worn-out leather wallet and placed a 10 dollar bill on the murky glass surface. "One vegan burger, please. Thank you." He politely smiled, but didn't really mind when the kid did not care to smile back.

He sat down by the window, his eyes shifted to the empty parking lot. Belleville has started to close for the night. The final car had left when Gerard arrived, leaving only the vague figure of a mother wandering around the seven-eleven across the street, a kid by her side. The weak light from the store gave her sinking shoulder an empathetic hug, it pitied the way her scarf draped down from her neck as she stared vacantly into her dreams. From behind the glass frame covered by greasy fingerprints, Gerard watched the child's hand tighten around the lady's wrist as she saw her mother wearing another girl's evening out.

She reminded him of a long lost memory, like an old polaroid picture somewhere at the bottom of his drawer, hidden under layers of bills, mails and dust that he has collected over the years. Gerard smiled when he recalled the warm touch of sunlight on his skin, dancing all over his freckled cheeks and onto the black​​ curls of the girl beside him. "Your uncle's cool." She said, skipping down the road, head held high and laughs echoed in his ears. They just came back from uncle Jared's house where the day was spent watching terrible horror movies on a bright sunny morning at the beginning of July. His uncle wouldn't complain about having kids going through his collection of tapes, as long as they don't cause any trouble. Gerard gripped onto the image of the girl's hazel eyes beaming with joy, trying to learn it by heart before chasing after her, breathlessly. "Yes, he is."

One day, she promised him, they would get away from New Jersey. "Like in the movies." They would dream of driving across the highway, far away from the mundane manufactured night, screaming out on the top of their lungs to unknown songs on the radio and watch their smoke rings linger in the cold shivering air, signing the night off with their crime. All dumb, all innocents. And there were more trips to his uncle's, more badly edited 70s movies and more promises. Up until the city rain started to pour down from the sky, filling up the room to drown both of the kids. And when the dirty water drained off what was left was two discount lives chained down by heavy numbers. Gerard never saw her ever since. Their tales have become irrelevant and distant, about two characters living in a storybook that he can no longer understand. 

After all was said and done, Gerard would sit in front of a cold, untouched burger, ears filled with cheesy pops, wondering what her name has been.