Chesterfield King

Pale knuckles clenched against the steering wheel as Andrew approached the local 7-11. He quickly found a parking spot and threw the car into park, his left hand still grasping the wheel. As he cut the engine, his head fell slightly onto the horn, cushioned by his head of chocolate curls.

He had really screwed up this time.

They had been sitting in her room, watching some sitcom on TV. Even though they weren’t really paying attention to the show, Andrew couldn’t stop laughing. Frances brought up the stupid stuff that he never would have realized if he would’ve spent the night in his apartment alone, watching the exact same thing while feeling sorry for himself.

Since he had met her, things had changed for the better. He didn’t spend every night alone anymore. With Frances, there was always something to do, whether it was day trips into the next city over or just a bonfire in her backyard.

But he had fucked it all up.

They had been laughing and perfectly fine an hour ago, but the laughter had died suddenly and was replaced by awkward silence. Awkward silence filled with tension, to be exact.

He knew she liked him, and he liked her just as much, but they just could never manage to bring it out into the open. He felt like she was waiting for him to say something, but the words just left him.

He sat there staring at her like an idiot instead.

And now he was in a 7-11 parking lot at midnight, his head against the steering wheel and his palms covered in sweat.

Oh well, there was nothing he could do except buy a beer and a pack of smokes and wait until he could muster up enough sense to go back to Frances’ house.

The 7-11 was virtually empty aside from the two cashiers and a toothless woman propped up against the doorframe. Andrew ducked back towards the freezers and searched for the beers. He needed a Heineken more than anything.

The green bottle felt cool against his fingertips as he reached for it in the freezer. There were only two left, and he had to stretch his arm to grab them. The woman that had been standing by the door was now at his side.

“Having trouble?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow and flashing him what she probably thought was a seductive toothless grin.

He smiled. “Just a little,” he said before rushing to the cash register. Through the glass door he could see snow begin to drift down from the inky sky.

The petite cashier rang up his purchase.

“Oh, could you please add in a pack of Chesterfields?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah sure,” she replied. She had to teeter on her tiptoes to reach the self and fumble around before she could find the pack.

She told him his new total, and he slipped some crumpled bills from his wallet onto the counter. The cashier put the two bottles of beer in a brown paper bag and handed him the cigarettes.

“Thanks,” Andrew mumbled as he walked out the door.

He pulled his hood over his head as the soft flakes fell down on him. The woman from the convenience store was sitting on the sidewalk by the newspaper vendors. She stood up as soon as she spotted Andrew walking towards his car.

“Hey, can I bum a smoke?” she asked.

He nodded and handed her a Chesterfield King from the pack he’d just opened.

“So, do you have a name?” she mumbled, holding the cigarette firmly between her chapped lips as she eased her lighter’s flame to the tip.

“Yeah, Andrew. You?” he muttered as he crossed his arms against his chest.

“Dana. Are you new in town? You look a little lost.”

“Nah.” Andrew looked up at her, his blue eyes illuminated by the florescent streetlights in the parking lot.

“Then what’s going on?”

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh. He didn’t even know this strange woman, why should he tell her all of his problems? From the looks of her, she was probably just a prostitute anyway.

But he felt that he needed to get it out. He spent most of his life keeping everything bottled up inside, and who better to open up to than a complete stranger, someone obviously in no place to judge him.

So he told her everything, and she listened, no interruptions, no judgmental glances, nothing.

The only thing she said was, “You should go get her.”

Andrew just smiled and gave her a nod as he bent down into his car. He couldn’t help but think that sometimes life can throw you off in the craziest ways.

The windshield wipers swiped back and forth, and the headlights beamed out as Andrew drove through the snowy night. The tires crunched through the snow as he approached the hill ahead of Frances’s house. Driving (aside from alcohol) was the one thing that really calmed Andrew down. While driving, you can’t let your mind wander, you can only focus on the road ahead, and something about releasing those distractions made Andrew feel at ease.

His stomach flipped as the car dipped down into the valley, his foot placed firmly on the accelerator.

As he sped past her house, he spotted Frances sitting on her steps, staring up at the sky with her legs crossed at the ankle.

Andrew turned around in her neighbors’ driveway before driving back up the hill again, this time taking the incline a bit more slowly. An old Journey song was playing on the radio as he swerved around the curve, pulling into someone else’s driveway to turn around. He wanted to stop by her house, tell her to go inside before she got sick, but for some reason he couldn’t do anything but drive.

He finally pulled into her driveway, waiting in his car as the last few seconds of the song trickled from the speakers. When he finally got out, he could see Frances let out a heavy breath, the vapor condensing as soon as it hit the chilly air.

“Hey,” she smiled as soon as she saw him approach the porch. She started to stand up, but her left leg buckled. It had fallen asleep while she had been sitting, and she tried shaking it to regain some feeling.

“Hey.” He gave her a faint smile as he sat beside her on the top step.

“So where have you been?” she asked, turning to face him. The nappy faux fur that lined her jacket’s hood kept bristling against her cheek, causing her to frequently rub the side of her face.

It was cold, and Andrew wished he would have thought to wear his parka. The puffy yellow plastic looked cozy on Frances.

“Only to the 7-11, it’s kind of a long story,” Andrew replied with a shrug, staring at the snow beginning to collect on his sneakers.

“Okay,” she giggled, playing with the zipper on her jacket.

Andrew fished the gold pack from his jacket pocket and gently pulled out one of the slender cigarettes and offered it to Frances.

She pushed it away. “You know I don’t smoke.”

“Yeah, I know.” He looked over at her. “Just keep it. I seem to be handing these out a lot lately,” he smirked.

She grinned, lightly running her thumb against the thin paper before sticking it in her pocket.

Her hand laid flat against the wooden step, and Andrew couldn’t help but trail his index finger along the lines imprinted in her palm. Her hand twitched from the sensation, and Andrew was finally able to mutter the three words they had both wanted to hear for so long.