On the morning of the second day of being stranded
at the Wawa in St Lucie with my mother, I go inside
to buy a coffee. Medium roast, with sugar. The man
working the checkout greets me as though we are
old friends. Any exciting plans for the weekend?
Only to get my car running so I can get home. He smiles
and I stare at his name tag—“The Dude.” I’m afraid
I do have to charge you $4 today. I smile and tap
my card. Have a wawawonderful day he calls after me.
I laugh because I think it is a pleasantry. After an hour
of me sipping coffees and watching my mother
and various good samaritans try to fix the car, The Dude
walks out to me and I think he is going to kick me out
for sitting criss crossed on the floor of the gas station
entrance. He holds a paper out and delivers a monologue
that drags on so long I imagine if he goes on any longer
the car will start running out of embarrassment or maybe
frustration. Oh I tell him. I glance at the paper and slip it
in my purse as he walks away. His name is Dane. Black
birds dive around the tall windows behind me. I walk out
to the car and tell my mother what happened. She laughs.
Sweat rolls down my back as I consider the factors. My blue
and white sundress. Messy ponytail, curls sticking out
from behind my sunglasses, which I pushed up
like a headband around my third or fourth cup of coffee.
The YA sticker on the book I was reading which I guess
he hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared about. I tell my mother
that she needs to call someone to get us—the car isn’t
gonna start and I’m not sleeping here tonight.
***
Bella Rotker studies at Interlochen Arts Academy. Their work appears in JAKE, Full Mood Mag, Fifth Wheel Press, The Lumiere Review, Neologism, and Best American High School Writing, among others. When she’s not writing or fighting the patriarchy, Bella’s hanging out with friends, watching the lakes, and looking for birds.
***
image: Blake Wood
Rejection Letters 