by David Stillwagon
Jody tossed her plastic bag of clothes over her shoulder like Santa Claus and headed across the darkened city. The only sound was the echo of cars passing by and an occasional voice piercing the silence. The night air was cool, getting cooler after each step. She zipped and rezipped her torn sweat suit, hoping that she would get warmer each time.
She walked by a McDonald’s. The place was empty except for the workers. She went in and sat in the corner as far away from the counter as possible. The warm booth felt good. The smell of hamburgers gnawed at her. She dug into her pockets and pulled out two quarters. Not enough.
One of the employees at the counter smiled at her. She smiled back. Maybe they’ll bring me some free food. Maybe a Big Mac that somebody changed their mind on. But nobody brought her anything. Generosity doesn’t exist today.
Jody closed her eyes as her head got heavy from weariness. She leaned against the bag of clothes. Finally comfortable after another long day on the street.
Her eyes quickly opened as the sound of knuckles loudly knocked on the table.
“It’s time to go; we’re closing,” said the manager, pointing to the door.
“Sorry, sorry.” Jody hoisted the bag and headed back out. It was cold now, not cool.
Jody walked along the street, going from block to block; everything was closing for the night. She passed dilapidated brick buildings that were once new and empty storefronts with paper-covered windows.
A car slowed down and motioned her over. The guy was old enough to be her father. She shook her head and kept going. She wouldn’t do just anything for money.
Something had to be open. She needed to get out of the cold.
Jody took a deep breath. A familiar laundromat’s neon sign wasn’t far in the distance. She stopped at a pawn-shop window, and her reflection scared her. She tussled her hair. The weight of the bag got heavier. She lugged it, ignoring the pain in her shoulder.
The laundromat was filled with strangers. On Monday night, the washers were filling up quickly, making a swishing sound. Jody held on to her stuffed bag of old clothes and waited. She glanced at the lady attendant, who appeared to be half asleep. A car, a nice car, pulled up in the parking lot. A woman got out. They were about the same size. The lady was well-dressed for a laundromat visit.
Why is she here? Maybe her washer at home was broken. Jody kept her eyes on the woman as she picked out a washer and put her clothes in one piece at a time. She went to the coin machine and got change. While the wash was going, the lady took out her phone and made a call. She probably told someone how ridiculous it was being in a laundromat on Monday evening.
Jody edged over to a washer close but not too close to the lady’s washer. She placed her ragged clothes in a washer but didn’t start it up. She avoided eye contact with the lady and went to the windows, looking out at the parking lot. It was eight o’clock. She calculated that the lady’s wash would be done in thirty minutes.
Still on the phone, the lady headed to the parking lot toward her car. Jody made another glance at the sleeping attendant. The car pulled away. At eight twenty-five, Jody bundled her clothes into a bag. She hurried to the lady’s washer, took the wet clothes out, and put them in her bag. She headed toward the door. Stealing wasn’t right, she knew that, but she needed clothes.
As she opened the door, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Jody, will I have to call the police again?”
Jody smiled at the attendant and handed her the bag with the wet clothes. The attendant knew her well but still let her come inside. But she always kept an eye on Jody.
It was still cold outside. Jody hurried up the street, thinking that going faster would warm her. She thought about where to go next. There was an empty building with unreliable locks. Because of the blank and washed-out white marquee overhead, it must have been a movie theater at one time.
As hoped, the door was ajar, and she pushed in. It was as dark as death and almost as quiet. Tiny flickers from a lighter at the other end of a musty-smelling room. She headed that way, taking little steps. Who was holding the lighter? A stranger, perhaps. It didn’t matter; fear didn’t slow her down. Within five feet, a face appeared above the light.
“Is that you, Chick?” Jody asked.
“Yeah, where you been hiding?”
“Nowhere and everywhere.”
Jody and Chick crossed paths on occasion. Chick was harmless, and Jody was relieved to see a face that wasn’t menacing.
“I’m surprised this place isn’t filled up with other folks. It’s still cold here, but the wind ain’t blowing.”
Chick and Jody walked into the old theater and sat about halfway down from where the screen used to be.
“I wonder what’s playing tonight?” Chick asked. “I think it’s getting close to Christmas. Maybe it’ll be It’s a Wonderful Life.”
Jody grinned. She plopped down a couple of seats away from Chick, who didn’t exactly smell like roses in the spring, but neither did she.
The theater reminded Jody of the last movie she had seen with her mother: Frozen. She could almost smell the popcorn and hear the music, but all that was history now.
Jody wanted to fall asleep, but Chick talked about old times, good and bad. Jody knew her stories well because they were like hers, mostly bad, evil men, drugs, and running away.
“You know, I don’t know if that motherfucker is still alive. But if I could get back to that square little town. I’d get a gun and shoot him dead. You don’t treat your own family like he did.”
“You’re right.” What else could Jody say? Her stepfather had abused her and her mother. So she ran away.
The back door creaked open again, and Chick closed the lighter. Jody slid down to the floor and hoped there wasn’t any trouble. It was pitch black, and she had only her hearing to rely on. Stone silence and the complete darkness of the theater must have scared them off.
Chick snapped her light. Jody tried to rest, but the thought of the door creaking open again made her jumpy. She didn’t want to be a victim any more than she was already. “I think I’ll hit the street.”
“I don’t blame you. I’ll walk you back to the door.”
Outside again, Jody turned up her collar and pulled out a knit cap that looked like a shotgun had torn into it. She kept glancing over her shoulder as if someone were following her. Some people were no good.
A kid’s playground was up ahead. In the evening, it was an open market for drugs and girls. It would be empty by now, as cold as it was. At least, Jody hoped.
A single flickering street light shone over the playground. She was all alone. Jody stretched out on the park bench. In the distance, a police siren blared. A few cars slowed down, but nobody stopped to see what she offered, which was nothing.
The wind made a peculiar sound, as if someone were sweeping. Jody raised her head and saw trash being blown back and forth.
She curled up on the hard bench and put her bag under her head. It didn’t help any. With her eyes shut, she tried to dream.