Eleanor by Johnny Worthen Page B

the airlock, snow in her hair, her bare legs red and shivering.
    A woman Eleanor recognized from town sat behind the register, watching a small television under the counter. Seeing Eleanor, she raised an eyebrow. Eleanor nodded a greeting and ducked behind an aisle. When the clerk returned to her show, Eleanor walked into the café.
    She slipped into a booth at the back and surveyed the room. She recognized more local faces. A woman of easy reputation danced with two truckers. She spun in circles to face each in turn, her hair swirling loops around her head. She was drunk. Another woman sat with a young man at a booth. They shared the bench, along with a pitcher of beer and a plate of French fries.
    Eleanor watched the single men in the café as they ate cheeseburgers, drank beer, or stole sips from a secret silver flask. Soon Eleanor focused on one of them. He was a large man, six foot two or more. He had a round belly, stubble on his chin, and arms made large from wrestling steering wheels. He had a kind face and a wedding ring on his left hand. He sipped a cheap beer while watching the dancers. Soon she saw his eyes stare into the distance as fatigue crept into him.
    When he refused another beer, Eleanor got up and took the long way around to his table, as unnoticed as possible in the dimmed lights.
    Eleanor had thought to make herself look older, but when the makeup had failed to do anything more than make her look stupid, she’d changed her plan. She shuffled up to the table and into the man’s vision. His eyes fell on her, focused, and he jumped. His mind had been a million miles away.
    â€œHello,” Eleanor said softly.
    â€œHello,” said the man cautiously. Eleanor could smell soap and shampoo on the man. He’d just showered, and his hair in the back had not yet dried. “Can I help you?” he said.
    â€œUm,” began Eleanor. It was easy for her to act vulnerable and awkward. Too easy in fact. She re-thought her plan and then said, “Um, maybe.”
    â€œYou got problems?” he asked. Eleanor nodded.
    â€œSit down,” said the trucker. “You want something?”
    Eleanor sat down and shook her head hesitantly. The trucker signaled the waitress.
    â€œYou like cheeseburgers?” he asked Eleanor. “That’s pretty much all you can get for a meal right now.” Eleanor shrugged.
    â€œBring us a cheeseburger,” he told the waitress. “And a hot chocolate.”
    Eleanor stared at the floor. “Thanks, mister,” she said.
    â€œMy name’s Dwight Lomas. What’s yours?”
    She’d planned to be Marilyn Flowers, but it no longer fit for her character. “Susie Parker,” she said and instantly regretted it. It was a dumb name, but once she said it, what could she do?
    â€œHow old are you, Susie?”
    â€œThirteen,” she said counting on his knowing that girls mature faster than boys. She’d have said eleven if she thought he’d have believed it.
    â€œAre you lost?”
    â€œNo, I live in Jamesford,” she said. “I just needed a place to go. You know, just for tonight. Until my dad sobers up.”
    â€œOh,” he said. Eleanor let the moment hang. The jukebox switched to a slow tune and the booth couple got up together to dance.
    The waitress appeared with Eleanor’s food. She was about to say something, when Eleanor cast her a look that stopped her, and she went away without a sound.
    â€œEat up, Susie,” Dwight said. “I’m full.”
    â€œI can’t pay you for this,” she said.
    â€œDid I ask you to? Just eat. I have a girl almost your age. If she ever needed a cheeseburger, I hope there’d be someone there to buy her one. I’m paying it forward.”
    Eleanor bit into the sandwich ferociously, half forgetting to chew.
    â€œSlow down there,” said Dwight.
    â€œI didn’t get dinner,” Eleanor said, her mouth full of food.