esperanza

Kelly

She got out awkwardly, almost tripping. Her shoes were those clunky things that looked like a cross between maryjanes and high-heeled combat boots. I walked her to the door of the cafe, keeping my hands off her but blocking the wind-driven drizzle with my body and my umbrella.

She bumbled at the door, finally jerking her hand back as I wrenched the heavy frame open. She scampered inside with a squeal, as a splash caught her across the calves.

I walked in behind her, grinning. She seemed awkwardly, charmingly young, and even younger when she caught one of her big square heels in the drain mat just inside the air lock. "Damn heels," I heard her mutter and she blushed when I widened the grin.

Inside, she staggered again and I put out a hand to catch her. "The food! The smell!" she murmured.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, grease, and bacon burning on a flat top grill filled the air, mingling with the sound of muted conversations and an old jukebox in the corner, playing a classic country tune. We took a booth, the place was busy but not packed and I wanted to get her seated. She looked pale and sick for a moment and I heard her tummy rumble again.

"I don't think I've been so hungry in years!"

"Relax." I laughed at her expression, wolfish and waifish at one time.

She grabbed up a packet of crackers left behind on the table, and ripped into it, scattering crumbs like a child. Nibbling on the saltines, she examined her fingers as if she had never seen them before. "I don't have any money."

"If I'm going to buy you lunch..." I began. Her color rose. "Dinner," I
corrected, smiling gently.

She frowned, trying to decide if she was being teased.

"...then you can tell me the story of how you happened to be standing on the side of the freeway in the pouring rain," I finished, still smiling.

Kelly, if that was her name, started to shake her head.

The waitress plopped menus in front of us. "Coffee?" she asked me. I nodded and she poured me a steaming hot cup. She hardly gave us a glance, I guess we weren't as odd a couple as I thought.

"Wanna coke?" she asked my companion. According to her tag, her name was Francine.

"Uh, yeah. I guess," Kelly said.

"Diet or regular?"

"D-diet?"

Francine scooted away. "Decide what you want, I'll be right back."

Kelly, stared intently at the menu without touching it.

"I'd better just have soup," she murmured. "I didn't eat at all today."

"Soup." I said, glancing at her. " You should eat something," I said softly.

She nodded.

"You should eat something more," I said softly.

She ignored the comment.

"You usually need glasses to read?" I asked.

She turned that shade of red again.

"Where are your glasses?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"You lost them? Left them in your last ride?"

She made a face as if that had never occurred to her until that moment.

"The truck."

"Some trucker gave you a ride then kicked you out on the freeway without your stuff?" I guessed wildly.