when pixie finished abusing gerald, she agreed to meet him at jenny’s truckstop.
gerald made his way immediately to jenny’s, although he knew pixie would keep him waiting - if she showed up at all. gerald did not really care if she showed up or not, he just wanted to get out of his room, and out of the house.
when gerald arrived at jenny’s he noticed sheriff jeanie bosworth’s squad car parked outside it.
jeanie was inside at a table, talking to a woman gerald had never seen before. the woman looked liked a bum, the kind gerald thought should be run out of town. and she was not that young and had a big rear end that stretched her faded jeans - not gerald’s type at all.
there were no other customers in the place.
jenny was not behind the counter. a boy who looked about fifteen years old was.
gerald suddenly realized he was hungry. so he ordered a sandwich along with his coffee, even though the food at jenny’s was not often up to his standards.
he ordered a ham and cheese sandwich, with extra mustard , extra mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, pickles, onions, and cucumbers. he did not really want anything except the ham and cheese and a little mustard, but when he bought something he liked to feel he was getting his money’s worth. also, if the kid missed anything, it would give gerald a good excuse to give him a hard time.
gerald sat down with his coffee to wait for his sandwich. he sat as far away from jeanie and her new friend as possible. the place was not that big, only seven tables, and four stools at the small counter. but he could still feel some feeble waves of jeanie’s contempt.
gerald looked out at the night. but he could still see jeanie and her friend reflected in the glass.
the woman looked like a bum, he thought again. the sheriff should be running such riff raff out of town, not buying them cups of coffee or whatever. she might have bought her a whole plate of ham and eggs! now the bum would move on and tell her friends what a friendly town it was and they should all check it out. he was paying his taxes for that?
a new thought flashed through gerald’s head. in a few days, unless pixie could help him out somehow, he might be a bum himself!
the thought, unlike any he had ever had before, made his head hurt.
it was so unfair! it was enough to make him cry. he actually felt a tear coming on.
but a man’s not supposed to cry, and he fought it back.
the kid came over with his sandwich. here you are, sir, he said politely.
the sandwich was exactly as gerald had requested. and the bread was not even stale, so he had nothing to complain about. gerald felt hatred for the young man welling up in him. so bleeping efficient! he would probably be president of the united states or some trillion dollar corporation when he, gerald, was lying in the street on skid row in san francisco or portland or someplace, with a broken leg from being hit a bus.
would you like a refill of your coffee, sir? the kid asked. about fifteen years old, and he did not have a molecule of acne on his punk face. and he was going to be a billionaire. some people… gerald did not finish the thought, as another tear welled up in his eye.
no thank you, gerald replied. he just wanted to be rid of the kid, and left alone with his grief.
he bit into the sandwich. some of the extra mustard and extra mayonnaise mixed together and spurted out of the sandwich on to his chin.
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