'Twas the day after Christmas last year.
I had just walked out of my neighborhood convenience store at a little after 11pm last December 26th. Tucking the 6pack of beer I had just bought under my arm, I cursed the biting mid winter's chill as I strolled back to my car.
One of my nephews had given me a couple of scratch lottery tickets the day before and by the grace of God, one of them had been of $50 winner. I had just cashed the ticket in to buy the beer and a pack of Marlboros and whistled pridefully to myself that I still had forty of it left to blow.
When I pulled into the lot five minutes earlier, I had noticed a beat up, dark blue minivan sitting in the spot right beside where I parked. I didn't take any notice of it occupants until I wedged myself between my car and theirs to leave and that's when I saw a young couple sitting in the front seat with a US Interstate Atlas spread out across their dash.
"Lost," the inner genius within me guessed.
Just as I was about to reach and unlock my car door, the telltale sound of the minivan's window being rolled down caught my ear.
"Ex...Excuse me Sir...can you help us maybe?" the man in the driver's seat asked through the partially opened window.
Turning to face the couple in the minivan, I could instantly see the look of frustration and stress on their faces under the gas station's luminous lights.
"Maybe...at least I'll try," I offered.
"We're from Pennsylvania...we were suppose to drive down to my wife's relatives in South Carolina for a couple of days but somehow we got turned around in DC and missed the I-95 exit...we kept driving west thinking we'd pick it up again then we kind of got a flat tire and it cost us most of the money we had to fix it," the late 20-ish guy explained.
Easing up to the half opened window, I could sense the man's wife recoil somewhat as I leaned in. As soon as I looked in I could see a sleeping baby wrapped in a blanket on the backseat.
"No car seat, " I thought to myself. "These folks really do have some problems."
Taking closer inspection of the couple, it was clear the man was a few years older than his wife. He was relatively tall, to the point his knees rose awkwardly to each edge of the steering wheel as he offered me a look at the map. His wife seemed to be in her early 20's, if not younger, and she still had some of her weight left over from the pregnancy, especially in her cheeks and on her hips. Not necessarily pretty or ugly, she just seemed like the average small town girl next door who had perhaps fooled around, got knocked up and the lucky guy eventually found a shotgun waiting for him at the altar perhaps.
"Our first Christmas together," the driver said proudly, eliciting a small but noticeable smile from his otherwise frustrated wife.
"You two will laugh about all this in a few years," I tried to comfort.
Leaning in close enough so I could talk to the man inside in a normal tone of voice, I could sense his wife grow increasingly tense as a protective mother normally would when strangers approach in times of great stress.
"Geez...well to get back to I-95 you've basically got two choices...but both options will take you about two hours," I cautioned. "Since you're already wanting to go south it makes no sense to retrace your steps back to DC. My best advice is to keep south on 81 until you get to I-64...that will take you to Richmond where you can pick up 95 and make a straight shot where you want to go."
"...Yeah?" the man finally said after several deep breaths, his eyes glued on the map the whole time as if the squiggly lines denoting highways would somehow change more to his liking if he stared long enough.
I took a step back on the pavement and allowed my advice to sink in for the couple as the visible steam of their exhales filled the cab of the minivan.
"Weather should be fine though...no talk of any snow or anything like that the whole way down," I added, trying to give the pair at least a glimmer of optimism.
"This sucks," the Husband groaned, fighting an obvious urge to reach down and crumple the map in his hands when it didn't show him what he wanted to see.
I could empathize somewhat with the man's plight. Here he was with his wife of less than a year and their baby, lost in some out of the way rural Virginia town, in a broken down and beat up bucket of bolts trying make it to an already day late meeting with the family for Christmas.
"I need a cigarette," the man finally roared, storming out of the driver's side door into the crisp night air as his wife silently bowed her head and rubbed her temples.
"Just one Justin...we're down to less than a pack between us," the wife hollered out the door to her Husband in a throaty and hoarse drawl, causing him to roll his eyes even more disgust.
My good deed done, I turned to head back to my car. Attempting to nod and say my goodbyes to the weary traveler as he took a spot underneath the gas station's canopy to smoke his cigarette, I froze in place when I noticed him picking through the sand filled ashtrays beside the store's front door, looking for any discarded cigarette butts that might still have a hit or two left on them.
"Good luck," I smiled and waved to him before reaching for my door handle.
"Uh...Thanks...Thanks again for your help," he replied, almost allowing me to step back inside my car before he motioned for me to stop.
"One more thing if you have a second," he quickly lunged off the sidewalk in my direction, his tall, gangly frame looking only half its normal size as he sheepishly approached.
"You know what's coming now," my internal compass warned.
"Thanks again for the help with the directions, Sir, sorry for being such an Asshole...I'm just frustrated," he started. "But there's one other problem...like I said earlier...we kind of spent all our money getting that flat tire fixed a ways back...there's only about a quarter tank of gas left...and we kind of don't have anymore money ...do you think you could maybe loan us some to get us part of the way there...we could get your address and mail you the money back when we get back home?"
"Picking cigarette butts out of a public ashtray...this Sonofabitch is really in a tough spot," I thought to myself as his query hung in the air.
I stood there for a moment and simply stared back him with a mixture of pity and discomfort. The humanity within me, the one my Mother and Father worked so hard to instill all those years ago, begged to simply reach into my pocket and give the guy a few dollars, after all I had just had the fortunate windfall to win $50 on the lottery, of which forty was still in my wallet.
Yet, 33 years worth of lies, broken trusts, short end of the sticks, combined with a healthy dose of failed relationships had created more emotional scar tissue on my part than I cared to admit.
"I don't know," I stammered somewhat, stalling for time until I could come up with an adequate and measured response to his rather straight forward and honest question.
Rolling my tongue along the inside of my mouth, I alternated my gaze back and forth between the man in front of me and his vehicle to my right.
"Yeah...I got a couple of bucks...think $30 will get you there," I finally answered, causing a wave of shock and relief to wash across the guy's face before the words were barely out of my mouth.
"I'll...I'll...I'll be glad to get some money in the mail to pay you back...with a little interest even as soon as we get home," he exuberantly beamed.
"No," I said with sober calm. "Don't worry about sending a penny back...just take the money and get some gas and get on with your life...All I want in return is a blowjob from your wife."
The look of childlike excitement and relief that has taken root on the man's face suddenly gave way to a blank canvas. My words seemed to hang like icicles in the air until I nodded my head as if to answer his stunned and questioning silent glare.
"You Motherfucker," he mumbled, just loud enough for only me to hear.
"Hey...its just an offer...Don't take it and I'm sure someone else might come along and help...I mean its only 11 o clock at night and this town rolls up its sidewalk every night at dusk...I'm sure someone else will come off the interstate this late and give you two some help...take it or leave it...I got the money right here but those are my terms," I said, tapping my pocket to show him my wallet.
A raspy hiss seeped from the man's lips each time he breathed.
"But that's my wife...and my Goddamn Son is in the backseat of the van...what kind of fucking piece of shit are you?" he asked incredulously.
"Hey...you're right...no offense taken...I'm sure someone will come along sometime later tonight and help you...I wasn't planning on doing anything right here anyway...I'll drive right over to the parking lot across the street and I'll find a nice private spot in perfect sight so you can keep an eye on things. Just send her over when I pull in and you'll have your money," I offered with simple and clear conciseness.
My adrenaline pumping from the sudden crassness that had bubbled to the surface, I stood there for a moment and reveled in the man's horrible dilemma.
"Here's a pack of cigarettes I bought a few minutes ago...I still have a few in my old pack...you look like you need them more than I do," I said calmly before tossing the unopened pack in his direction.
Waiting for the man to throw them right back at me, if not take a running start to try and kill me, he simply cradled the pack of Marlboros against his chest and bit his lip, deep in thought.
"I'll give you two 5 minutes once I get over there to make up your mind," I added before turning to get in my car.
Within 20 seconds I had started the engine and turned my car out of the gas station's lot, heading to the barren strip mall across the street.
___________________________________
"Gotta be getting close to midnight," I said to myself as I wheeled into the vacant lot across the street from where the couple's minivan continued to sit.
"You could have just given him the money," my conscience nagged.
"Too late now," I muttered under my breath once I had picked out an adequate spot, parked and turned off the ignition.
