The Man With The Broken Mirror

I graduated high school two years ago; I have a job at Seven Eleven now, big improvement huh? I wake up everyday, same thing over and over. Alarm blaring, I drag myself out of bed, make a bowl of cereal, and pray to move out of this hell hole that I grew up in. I head on to work in probably the only thing I take pride in and that's my 1981 Z28 Camaro, I saved up every dime I made from when I was 14 until I was 17 to buy it off of an old family friend. I've thought about selling it to buy a cheaper car and put down first and last month's rent on this apartment I've had my eye on for the past two months. My mom absolutely hates the car but I don't really give a damn what the hell she thinks, She's been an absent mother for the majority of my life, I mean shit I know my next door neighbor better than I do her, and I don't even know my neighbor's last name. Hell she never even told me my father's name, but she's always pressured the hell out of me to go to law school "Just like my father" Why would I do something like someone that I don't even know, taking advice from a stranger I've known 20 years? I don't know who I get it from but I've absolutely got to do the opposite of what I'm told, My mom says I get it from my father, but I've never so much as heard his name.
I get in my Camaro, I turn the ignition. The sweet aroma of exhaust fills my side of the garage, I turn on an old rock station and Cult Of Personality comes on by Living Colour one of my favorite rock songs. I buckle into my five point safety harness. I moved the shifter into first gear, I dump the clutch and pin the accelerator to the floor, my Goodyear's leave two distinct 30 ft. long black marks stretching from the garage all the way out into the road. I hear my phone go off and look at the front screen "Call from Mom" I ignore it and turn off my phone, I pass the furniture showroom and look at my black Camaro's reflection in the glass I see the red stripes just as bright as they can be against the black, I think back to when I bought the car from my mom's old friend Carl. It was a bright (even though faded) yellow, with the black Z28 side stripes, I've put my heart and sould into this car to transform it from a middle aged guy's car to a bad ass street machine. I'm so proud of this car. The one thing I hate about driving to work is that I get there too soon, I don't get to enjoy the drive.
I pull in and park around back, I always arrive 10 minutes early so that I can do my routine. I park, put the Club on the steering wheel, and then put the car cover on the Camaro, I put to much work into it to not protect it. I then enter the Seven Eleven, then go straight to the bathroom, I don't exactly know why but I just stare at my reflection in the mirror, which by the way has a bullet hole in it, and it's cracked but not beyond use so says the store owner. I swear I can see damn blood in the cracks, it happened when an ex employee of this finely established shit hole tried to rob the store by emptying the contents of a drop safe into a green duffle bag (which he also ripped off from the store) and was going to run from the cops. Then his buddy took the money and some middle aged guy's Corvette and ditched the employee here at the store, so he hid out in the bathroom and when the cops busted in the guy swung at them with a tire iron. Fucking dumbass. Anyways I walk out and start my shift I see the day manager, Toni. Let me tell you she is a fucking wreck. She has more dust go up her nose than shit goes down a toilet. I guess that's what happens when you work with a guy who got killed. She leaves and I sit on a busted old stool behind the counter, waiting for some punk bastard to rip off the store, it's a fun nightly occurance here at Seven Eleven. Some guy with a butterfly knife will come in here and demand me to empty the register into a potato sack (which I don't know where in hell you can still get one of those at), and I oblige, It ain't my damn job to fight off druggies. My girlfriend Katie comes in and brightens my day, she made a home made apple pie, she brought me a peice, I lean over the counter and kiss her. When she has time she'll come down and keep me company, I love her to death.
My shift ends and just like I told her I would I take her to see the late night showing of some movie she's been dying to see. Then we go to Antonio's for a bite to eat, thank goodness he stays open until three in the morning. Tomorrow is my day off so I spend the night with her, and we make love for the fifty billionth time, but somehow it always feels like the first, I wake up early and make her breakfast in bed, I love seeing her wake up, if feels so right being the first thing she see's in the morning. She eat's and then we shower together. Now it's off to the mall. She has her own job but I absolutely love spoiling her, then after the mall we go to hang out at my place, as I'm pulling into the garage I see a peice of paper thumbtacked to the corkboard where my tools hang. It's a note from my mom, with a news paper clipping attatched. It say "Dear Nate, The man in this story is your father, I always kept it a secret because of how much he screwed up. I'm sorry" as I read the news article, I quickly realized that my father, is the man who was shot in my store. It makes a chill go down my spine, I've been working in the same store where my father was blown away in, and I never had a clue. I didn't know what to do, whether to cry, or go about my day as usual, thank God Katie was there, she saw my face and locked her arms around me as tight as she could, and just stayed there. I didn't ever see my mom again, whether that's for better or worse I'll never know, She left everything but her clothes. She signed the house over to me, it was fully paid for. Needless to say I'm not buying the appartment, so I'm keeping the Camaro, Katie moved in, that's pretty awesome, It's amazing how a peice of paper can change a life.