Employee of the Summer

Employee of the Summer

    I jerked my head up as the door chime sounded, with effort forced my eyes open, and wiped some congealed sweat from my forehead.  I looked at the time-stamp clock wondering how long I'd been asleep, 1:30 AM.  Leaning back on my chair, head flopping backwards and mouth open, I looked out into the store.  Not seeing anyone, I got up.  As I arose, a dirty little kid scrolled into view from behind the counter.  He sat a 10¢ piece of candy down near the cash register and held out a $20 food stamp without saying a word.  "Just take it," I said.  Frowning, he shuffled out into the parking lot and around to the drivers side window.  The car was parked askew, expecting a quick transaction, lights off but still running.  Lifting up the candy in his open palm and slightly raising the fist with the food stamp he said something then shrugged his shoulders in reply to something else. An arm jutted out of the window pointing back toward the store gesturing angrily to make some point.  The kid looked down at his feet, turned and shuffled back in and over to the fridge.  There he grabbed a soda and brought it up to the counter holding out the same $20 food stamp.  I rung him up and his face fell as I handed him his change in food stamps and coins.  I watched him as he walked out, opened the passenger side door and got in.  Almost before his door closed the car tore out of the parking lot, kicking up loose gravel.  Now out of view I heard the screech of breaks at the stop light, the ambient light turned from red to green.   The engine roared, tires squeaked, and in my mind I followed the car with its fading sounds for quite a while.  Then all was quiet again, and the car drove off in the early morning, no doubt trying to make it to the next all night store before 2:00 in the morning. 

     5:00 in the morning, the rush of coffee guzzling commuters not yet begun, the late night weirdos gone home, and the beginnings of day was just showing through the various advertisements stuck to the windows.  A truck pulls up and out gets a large middle aged man, tired and unshaven.  I recognize him as the old gym teacher I never got along with from high school.  On recognizing me he quickly sucked in his gut, and stuck out his chest.  Convincing himself that I didn't notice, he vainly swaggered over to the cash register.  He looked at me with that smug and condescending expression on his face.  That same expression he assumed at school to prove he was the physical role model to his students.  "So, Nielsen, this is what's become of you?" he said suppressing delight in my lack of aspiration.  "It's a job," I replied, raising my eye brows and shrugging my shoulders.  He pulled out three twenties and slapped them down on the counter like I'd probably never seen so much money before.  He named a few lotto scratch it games and headed back out to his truck, where he sat scratching off the sliver film with his thumb nail.  I felt bad for him as he drove off, probably embarrassed to redeem his $12 bounty from the $60's in tickets.  On my way home I was pulled over for expired plates.  

   It was already getting hot when I got home around 8:30 and headed out into the orchard to join my dad and brothers in thinning apples.  Apple after apple, thousands of them, the job was monotonous, only bearable for the conversations and company.  Sweat poring down our faces we turned in till the evening when we'd start up again.  Everyone went their ways and I headed up to the game room, where my bed was for the summer.  You could feel the temperature rise with each step.  Exhausted and sleep deprived, I cranked the fan up to high, kicked off my shoes and tried to catch a few hours of sleep.  I thinned apples in my dreams, apple after apple, pulled from their bunches and tossed to the ground, leaving one or two behind.  Even when conscious, I lie there working out the correct apples to thin, like some puzzle that I couldn't pull my mind away from.  After moderate success at sleep, I went swimming, the only thing the heat would allow, trying to force apple thinning out of my head.  After dinner we all went back out to the orchard until the light was too dim to work.  A few hours later and I was on my way back to the quickie-mart.   
   

    It was still hot, and work was slow, so I took refuge in the most comfortable spot in the store, the cold drink refrigerator.  I spent a lot of time that summer, peering out into the store through the soda bottles, watching for someone to enter.   The fan, with its lulling noise, sent a cool breeze through the fridge.  I got comfy and shivered as the last bits of sweat dried off my face.  I indulged in a long blink of my eyes, mentally keeping track of the time, not bad, still awake, a little longer this time...  I was startled awake by someone opening the refrigerator door and grabbing for a bottle.  Looking out into the store there was 4 or more people where there had been none last time I closed my eyes.  One of them was a police officer, they all were looking around confused, waiting for someone to ring them up.  I walked out of the fridge trying to pretend I'd been busy, probably not making a good show of it as I was trying to remember what time it was when I went in.  I rung them all up, and the store was quiet again, and still hot.  I wandered back into the fridge after starting the thousand or so pots of coffee.

      At the end of the summer, last pay check in hand, and walking out the door, the owner stopped me.  He said it was nice to have an honest employee working the night shift, shook my hand, and said the job'd be waiting for me if I ever needed it again.  Thank goodness I never did.