The Story Of Ted

“You mean it’s not free yet?” This pretty much became a running gag between me and the kid on the other end of the counter as I pulled out eighty-nine cents for what seemed like the thousandth coffee I had bought at this place. He gave me his usual smart-ass response, something about employees getting free gasoline, which illustrated the chance of me getting free coffee. I told him to keep the change, being that you can’t even get a gulp of water for 11 cents, unless you enjoy the taste of free gas station quality tap water.

I started my shift that day at the usual 11 PM as per what was told to me by my supervisor the day I was assigned to this deal. I usually prefer working day shifts, but jobs that I was being given had been few and far between lately, so I jumped at the chance at this one. I still think it was quite pointless for me to be there, being that it was about 3 weeks ago that the store was held up at knife point by some thug in a Richard Nixon mask of all things. The loss of an overwhelming $81 was enough to make the company guys want a security guard at the store for the next 2 months, which of course meant that I had to spend my daylight time sleeping.

Security was my winter job, I work landscaping during the warmer months, and since the snowplowing racket was already over bloated, I fell into the security gig. Both jobs were quite up my alley, being that I’m very much a “dinner for one” type of guy. Most of my friends from high school and my amazing 7 week college stint had slowly but surely severed their ties with me, and in the 25 years of my awkward existence I only had one serous romance in my life. The pathetic thing about that was that it was my senior year in high school, and to put it into racing terms, while it seemed like my whole graduating class was going be celebrating in the winners circle that night, my night was one big long lousy pit stop. After Elaine, I had a fling here or there, and the occasional “wink wink,” but that’s about the extent of it. Like all red blooded Americans I have my casual acquaintances, and of course my drinking and poker buddies, but deep friendship and a steady girlfriend was not something that I had at this point in my life.

“Oh Damn!” I looked up as the kid behind the counter glared out the window at the massive amounts of Pennsylvania quality snow came falling down. I figured as much, the weather guy on channel 10 said something about “the blizzard of the century” or something equally over exaggerating. Jeff, which was his name by the way, had said about how the custom of this city before blizzards was to load up on bread milk cigarettes and toilet paper before blizzards. After that big cattle drive of people, the whole city seemed to just shut down like a town under quarantine.

“Well at least ill be able to get everything done for a change.”

That was typical Jeff right there. He had am amazing work ethic that I could never parallel even if I wanted to. He put 300% into everything he did, and it showed in his work. His floors were mopped to perfection, his coffee pots were spotless, and he did it all with a big youthful smile on his face. Most nights he spent talking about his day at Penn State Altoona College, where he pulled in every A and was in every group, club and committee he could possibly be in. When he wasn’t talking about school, he was talking about his girl Diane. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but he seemed to loose a little of his flair when he talked about her lately. Apparently he had the same problem I had with Elaine, in that our girl’s wanted us to use that magical L word. What is it about that word that makes people nuts? I swear, I don’t think people should be able to use that word until they are 21.

With a sip on my coffee I wandered around to the other side of the store where the other night shifter was hard at work stocking the milk cooler. She was fighting back tears for the same reason she did every night at about this time. Since the music system was on a loop, the same song played at the same time every night, and at exactly 11:47 PM that tune was a Gordon Lightfoot’s “Carefree Highway.” She explained to me one night that at her husband’s funeral he had it written in his will that the music played be picked my him, and this was the song playing the very last time she saw her husband.

I always felt sorry for “Bit,” as everyone called her. I think her real name was Betty, but don’t quote me on that one. She always struck me as a woman who was dealt a bad hand in life. She got pregnant as a teenager, and the bastard of a father ran off when he found out she was pregnant. She never wet to college or had many friends, and now at the twilight of her life she was working 3^rd shift at some gas station just so she could have some contact with people and possibly make a new friend or two. I sometimes ask God why he does things, and taking “Bit’s” main reason for living was at the top of that list.

I walked by her pretending not to notice her crying as I gave her a hello nod. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the row of soda she was placing on the shelf was a week outdated. Then again, it’s not like anyone would notice anyway, as the only people who bought that particular soft drink were out-of-towners who couldn’t find it anywhere else. I glanced up at Jeff who had seen her crying as well and he shook his head sympathetically. Jeff had a good heart, on the off chance I ever have kids I hope they end up as caring, kind and generous as Jeff.

I took a few more idle walks around the store before I leaned up against the wall next to the women’s room. I found out that this would sometimes cause amusement when girls, drunk off their rocker of course, would hit on me or ask me for my phone number or some other “odd” requests. That most likely would not be happening this night because the snow had already started to significantly pile up, and what kind of idiot would go out drinking in this weather on a Tuesday night of all things.

“Ted, TED!” I jumped when a handful of sugar packets struck my face. Jeff and his partner-in-third shift “Bit” were standing there laughing their faces off at an unsuspecting me. Obviously I had spaced out or fell asleep stand up because it was now 2:13 AM. I knew that even without looking at the clock because John Mellencamp’s “Pink Houses” was on the sound system.

“God forbid the robber was quiet or that would be another $81 down the drain!” “Bit” was still laughing, more so now fueled by Jeff’s trademark smart-alecky wit. I smiled and shot back with “Maybe I would get lucky and it would be a robbery and a kidnapping!”

“Bit” was almost on the floor laughing by the time me and Jeff had finished with our word war, which lasted about another twenty minutes or so. Jeff went back to his duties, as did “Bit,” while I got a fresh cup of coffee from the pot. A paced some more trying to keep alert, when one of the best parts of my day came at its regular time of 3:13 AM. At that moment, every night as sure as basset hounds are ugly, the convenience store music gods smiled on us and, as the tradition seemed to be now, the three of us yelled “JOURNEY!!!”

Jeff would play mop guitar, “Bit’ would pull out her trusty hair brush microphone and give us a rousing “Any Way you Want It, That’s The Way You Need It,” and I would play the coffee counter complete with wood coffee mixer drumsticks. “Bit” especially loved our little ritual. She one told me she sang in high school every chance she got and won talent show after talent show. I think maybe she liked this part of her day more then she lead on, but I wasn’t going to pry. Besides, she still had a darn good voice and could pull off a great vocal performance every night wheatear we had customers in the store or not!

Like all thinks, the song ended, leaving us in the usual giddy mood that lasted all night. The song after it was some clichéd country-western song called “Dat Dang Dawg Done Died Doday, Dang It” or something to that nature, which was the cue for us to get back to our dignified and professional selves that we were being paid to be.

The next tune that came on was one that brought every emotion known to man into my head. The world famous Lonestar song “Amazed.” This was the first song that me and Elaine danced to and it was the song on my car radio the day she dumped me. Funny thing is I never felt sadness when I heard the song anymore. The song mainly made me think of what she did after our breakup. The way she called once every few months saying how much she missed me, the way the only time she did ask to see me was when she needed a glorified taxi, and the way she dumped me on my birthday of all things. My feelings for her now are nothing more than amusement. I laugh inside at our monthly phone calls where our “conversation,” other than the junk about her missing me, was her gabbing about her problems and me watching wrestling saying “yeah, uh-huh, yeah” and me hanging up happy that I don’t have to hear from her for a month or so.

I felt myself get this evil grin on my face as the song came to an end, once again feeling that if the choice were Elaine or being single forever, well, lest just say I wont be buying “His and Hers” stuff anytime soon. And yet, this night, it would not be the only time I think of her.

4:11 AM came in to its usual song, that being The Eagle’s “Hotel California.” I took my last sip of my fourth coffee of the night when the door dinger dang and the whopping 3^rd customer of the night came in. I paid no attention to the person when a familiar voice quietly spoke out, “Ted?”

I looked up, praying to God and Buddha and Vishnu and all those guys that the voice didn’t belong to…oh crap, it did.

“HI TED!” Elaine flung her arms around me and for some bizarre reason gave me a kiss on the mouth, even though the guy with her, obviously her boyfriend, was right there with his back to us buying some cancer sticks. The only girl I ever loved has just kissed me and I was actually angry, as if to think “how dare you!” I looked at her for a second, and the girl I loved was now so much different then the days of old. Her eyes were as lovelyl as ever, but the similarities ended there. The modest clothes were replaced by something that looked like a stripper’s Halloween costume, her silky skin defaced by at least a dozen piercing and tattoos, and her arms had the trademark signs of a drug user.

“So how have you been?” She cheerfully asked as if she actually cared. I gave her the usual “I’m doing good” type answer, refusing to let myself gets drawn in by her. However, I never got that chance. About 26 seconds after she came into the store and while I was in mid sentence, she blurted out “Well I should go back with my boyfriend now, see you later honey!” She walked out with her boyfriend, leaving me in a state of complete shock and awe, trying to figure out what just happened. Then I could not help but laugh. Jeff and “Bit” just stood there wondering who this girl was who kissed their security guard.

“Who in the heck was that thing?” Jeff asked in a half laugh half shock. Turning to him, the only answer I could think of was “I used to date that.”

‘That was the world famous Elaine you told us about?” “Bit” said with a sarcastic grin. I was still laughing so I just gave her an affirmative nod. They looked at each other and turned back to me, saying in complete unison as if it was rehearsed, “You gotta get yourself a gal mate.”

The rest of the night passed with one Elaine joke after another. At 6 o’clock I said my goodbyes to “Bit” and Jeff who still were getting amusement out of Elaine, and would most likely not stop until their shift ended an hour later when Shania Twain made her way on to the radio. “Catch you later!” Jeff yelled as I walked to my car through the freshly plowed snow. I was pleasantly surprised to see I would not have to clear any snow away from around my car as the plow guy got close enough where I could just kick it all away.

“Need a hand?” I choked out suddenly getting amazingly nervous. She stood up and I was taken back by what I saw. I always thought to myself that there was a big difference between being “Beautiful” and being “Pretty,” and I would take pretty over beautiful any way. This girl took “pretty’ to a whole new level, giving me a chill that the sub-zero morning had nothing to do with. She looked at me with a pair of forest green eyes and answered “Well, what kind of lady would I be to turn down help from a handsome stranger such as you?”