Even the most shrewd, most calculating predator can be guilty of the most common mistake:
Judging a book by it's cover.
Judging a book by it's cover.
Tiny Hands on a Big Gulp by Anthony Mitchell
 |
 |
White
sun rays illuminate the woman's face as she stands on the sidewalk. She holds a greasy Arby's bag and sips from a
big gulp cup. Her tiny fingers can
barely control it. Oh yes. This is the one for the week. I feel for my ether bottle in my pocket. Check.
I feel for the rag. Check. I place them in my lap and cover them with
the long tail of my checked shirt. I
pull my Eldorado to the curb and roll down my window.
“You
needing a ride somewhere?”
She
focuses in on me like I am a mouse in a hole in her wall. I raise my eyebrows. She smiles.
Her white teeth glow.
“Just
across town.”
The
sun light disappears from her face. The
clouds gather. My eyes dart to the
change and back to her.
“Looks
like you best ride with me. Wouldn't
want you to get rained on.”
“Hmmn. This sounds too good to be true. Let me give you a sandwich in return and you
have a deal.”
I
nod and open the door for her. She
slides on in and shuts the door softly.
Too softly.
“Shut
it again, dear.”
“Oh.”
She
does not slam the door but manages to pull it to hard enough to secure the
latch. Such a gentle little person. I pull away from the curb and we hit a red
light.
“Where
to?”
“Take
me up to Target. I know people there.”
“You
work there?”
She
smiles to me. “No.”
Good. Unemployed women always make things easier.
“Here's
your sandwich.”
I
pat my stomach.
“Just
put it on the dash. Had a huge
lunch. I'll have to eat it later.”
She
places the paper wrapped food on the dash and returns her hand to her big gulp
cup. She takes a tiny sip and holds it
with both hands.
I
love it when they have small hands.
We
pass through the red light, but traffic is too heavy for me to make my
move. It is broad daylight as well, but
I always get them in broad daylight.
Women seem to put their guard up at night. A clap of thunder sounds in the
distance. She jerks in her seat and
nearly drops the giant drink everywhere.
“You
scared of storms?”
She
giggles.
I
shake my head.
“Not
me. I say 'bring it on.'”
I
can feel her smiling toward me. It is a
blank expression but something looms behind it.
“I
think storms are like the sea. They
thrash and swirl and suck everything down.”
I
look over to see her eyes fixed on mine.
She wears a half smile.
“Yeah. I can see that.”
“It's
like something bad happening. But bad
things have to happen.”
“Well
yeah. Can't have the good without the
bad.”
Her
eyes are still on me. Has she blinked
since she got in here?
“I
like bad things.”
I
look over to her.
“Oh
yeah? Like what?”
She
giggles to me. There is something in the
giggle like she knows something I don't.
Some private secret. I stay
focused on the street.
“I
think I will call you Chin-Bo.”
“What?”
She
reaches over and strokes my chin with her finger.
“Um. What are you...”
She
gives another giggle.
“You
have a strong chin. And Bo is a strong
name.”
“Well,
my name is actually...”
Her
finger presses to my lips, muffling my attempt to give her a fake name. But one that sounded better than Chin-Bo.
“You
couldn't do bad things, Chin-Bo. Not the
kind I like.”
I
focus on the street. The target is a few
miles ahead but not within sight yet.
Still, I need to make my move and the traffic is getting lighter. The sky is now gray and white. Rain spits a drop onto my windshield.
