Halvah or Daniel Beloved of God

The End

Broken glass.  He almost stepped on it.  Keep your eyes glued to the ground and never look up, he told himself, otherwise you'll end up with a jagged piece of wine bottle between your toes and bleed to death.  Or get an infection and watch grow your damn foot grow black with gangrene. 

“Pleasant thoughts you’re having this morning, Daniel,” he said aloud.  Miraculously he had made a decision that morning.  It was time to leave. He wondered if it was necessary to give two weeks notice at a gas station and then decided, it might not be necessary but it was moral.  He knew the boss would hate to see him go.  Unlike other "grease monkeys," he was reliable, courteous and didn’t smoke or drink on the job.  Most of all, he could help with the book keeping.  But the boss had mentioned retirement on many occasions and so maybe Daniel’s leaving would give him impetus to take that step and thus all would conclude well.  Daniel liked conclusions that ended with both sides clear of conscience.  Of course, he wasn’t sure where he was going but that was another decision and he was only capable of one a day.

He was only at work for about an hour when he looked up from sweeping the garage to see the girls   dragging their bagged possessions as they headed for the little Volvo.  Remarkably it had survived an entire night on the street or so he thought.   He watched as they were approached by a panhandler.  At first the man seemed satisfied with what change they gave him.  Then he turned around and followed them demanding more.  When they refused, he grabbed one of their guitars.

Daniel ran across the street still holding the broom. It - plus their screaming - was enough to make the bum drop the guitar and slouch away cursing loudly.

“Let’s get you guys out of here,”  he ordered as he pushed them down the sidewalk towards their car.

“Oh no,” the Catholic’s Daughter cried,  “Look at my car.”  The passenger side window had been smashed, everything remaining inside (which wasn't much, only that stupid stone head staring wistfully up at them) was covered with glass shards.  

“Oh no!  My flute!  My flute is gone!  We’ve got to call the police,”  Venus of the Sewer cried.

Daniel stifled a cynical laugh then put his arm around the sobbing girl.  “ I'm afraid they won’t bother to take a police report.  There are so many robberies down here. They won't even come.”    

“That’s so awful.”

“That’s precisely why you have to get out of here.”

They drove across the street to the station where Daniel helped them sweep out the inside and put cardboard over the missing window.  The boss even gave them a can of oil after checking the dipstick and sighing in disgust “women never check the oil, or the tires. We’d better check them as well.”

When the boss was satisfied the little car just might make it to Massachusetts, he gave them directions on how to get out of town then disappeared inside the station.  He’d dispensed enough good will for the day. 

“We’ll never forget you,” they vowed as they prepared to flee the Sodomites.

Daniel chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I bet.”

“You know, you can’t even buy halvah in Nevada.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yes, it is.”

He watched the little car as it sputtered down the road, thick smoke pouring out of the exhaust, young arms fluttering out the windows.  They’ll never make it, he thought, but he waved back anyway. 

The End

@copyright 2014 JT Twissel