This story reminds me of something I don’t remember having forgotten… I can’t recall precisely what, but I think you’ll agree that it captures the moment.
Enjoy!
That Kind of Day
Bruce Holland Rogers
He had run out of gas. That was the kind of day he was having. He had gone into the church to see if he could use their phone or at least get directions to the nearest gas station. But when he explained his problem to the woman in the church office, she said, “Two-eighty a gallon.”
“Sorry?” he said.
The woman got up from her desk. She unlocked a door and brought out a red and yellow fuel can. “This is two gallons. Two-eighty a gallon, plus a ten dollar deposit on the container. Comes to fifteen-sixty. Cash?”
“Uh, sure,” he said, getting out his wallet. He gave her his last twenty. She made change from a desk drawer. “So, I guess I’m not the first person to run out of gas here.”
“I’m only open for another hour,” she said. “Make it quick if you want your deposit back today.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
#
Later, he continued on his way to the bank. In the lobby, he waited in line. When it was his turn, he pushed the checks and deposit slip toward the teller. She said, “And how are you today?”
“All right, I guess.”
“You don’t sound it.” She looked up, meeting his gaze. “You sound troubled.”
“It’s nothing, really.”
“Oh, it’s something,” she said. “I can tell. What’s wrong?”
“I’m just…distracted.”
She pushed his checks and deposit slip back toward him. “Wait right there,” she said. She put a potted plant in the middle of her counter space, signalling that her position was closed. She came around from behind the counter and led him to a place in the lobby where two comfortable chairs were facing one another. “Tell me,” she said.
“I don’t know,” he said, looking around the lobby. Everyone else was conducting ordinary banking business. None of the other tellers seemed to be asking customers how they were, how they really were. “Should you be doing this?”
“Sometimes we don’t get what we ask for,” she said. “We get what we need.”
“That sounds nice. I wish it were true.”
“You’re burdened. It shows in your face.”
“I’m distracted. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. I ran out of gas. It’s just that kind of day.”
“We all have days like that,” she said.
“It’s more than the usual.” He sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Be comforted,” she said. She laid her hand gently on his in a sisterly way. “We care about our customers.”
“I…appreciate that.”
“It’s what we’re here for. Are you feeling any better?”
He did feel better, a little. On his way back to his car, he realized he was still holding the checks and deposit slip. If he turned around, should he wait in line again? It would feel awkward either way.
#
As he drove toward a different branch of his bank, something started to rattle under the hood of his car. There was a funny smell, something like burning rubber. He turned into the first service station that he came to. One of the service bays was empty. He didn’t see other cars that were waiting to be worked on, so he steered toward the open bay slowly, full of hope. No one waved him away. As he pulled in, two mechanics working in the adjacent bay looked up. Could they tell by the sound exactly what was wrong?
He shut the engine off. It dieseled, coughed, then stopped. The mechanics put their tools down, picked up rags, and began to vigorously wipe the grease from their hands. They hurried to open a cabinet. What were they after? An extinguisher? Could his car be on fire? He didn’t think so. He rolled down his window to talk to them.
The mechanics approached. One held a golden chalice and a little white cloth with red and gold embroidery. The other mechanic opened the lid of a golden box. Their fingernails were black, though they had rubbed most of the engine oil from their skin. The mechanic with the box held up the wafer he had taken from inside. He offered it saying, “The body of Christ.”
—
Bruce Holland Rogers is an American writer living temporarily in London, England. He will be giving a reading in Vienna on 18 April and will be a featured speaker at the Winchester Writers’ Conference in June. More details and more fiction at www.shortshortshort.com.
A perfect Dog Versus Sandwich story, I’d say.