One
I could feel the barista staring at me. She’d been eyeing me off and on for the past half an hour. I’d ordered a coffee when I first parked myself at the table in front of the window with my laptop, but nothing since. It’d been two hours and I knew my loitering wasn’t going unnoticed. I didn’t need another coffee though, nor did I want to spend the five dollars it would cost. All another cup would do would make me pee and that would take time that I didn’t have. This paper was due tomorrow at nine a.m. and I had to work until nearly midnight. This was basically my last chance to get it done and with the Wi-Fi on the fritz at home, I had to bum a ride off of Café Java’s. I was nearly done though and I could do my last-minute edits before going to bed. I would get this done. I always did.
I poured myself back into the paper, typing furiously as I checked my sources, ignoring the glares of the girl behind the counter. I looked down at the clock. It was nearly four. I had to be to work at five. I typed the last word and then shut my laptop, stuffing it into my bag. I reached into my pocket and left a couple of dollars on the table. It wasn’t nearly enough for the amount of time I’d spent using the internet, but it was what I could afford and I hoped the barista would understand. She had to. I knew she wasn’t rolling in dough if she was working in a place like this. She was probably a struggling college student just as I was, which was why she was annoyed I wasn’t ordering more and taking up a seat.
“Thank you,” I said to her as I walked towards the door, giving her a smile, our eyes meeting for a second and her mouth remained a straight line until the corners turned up into a hesitant grin. Maybe she understood my situation after all.
I stepped outside, the crisp fall air hitting me. I started towards my car, which was parked just down the street, but when I saw it, I felt my stomach drop. A cop was standing next to it, scrawling something down on a pad of paper and tucking it onto my windshield.
“Dammit! The meter!” I exclaimed to myself as I started running towards the cop, praying I could talk him out of it.
My bank account could not handle a parking ticket. I didn’t know why I even bothered trying to drive a car in the city. It was nothing but a nuisance, but I hadn’t wanted to walk or ride the T with my laptop and textbooks.
“Officer! Wait! Please!” I called out.
I was almost to the car and he turned around, obviously surprised to see me coming at him. I’d noticed he’d put his hand on his gun when he first heard my voice, but I guessed I didn’t appear threatening because he eased off it and folded his arms as I approached. I was out of breath when I reached him. I knew I shouldn’t have parked on a hill.
“Can I help you, miss?” he asked and I glanced down at his badge. TORRES.
“Yes, Officer Torres,” I said, doing my best to get myself together. If I had any hope of getting out of this ticket, I had to appear rational. “Did you just give me a ticket?”
“I did. The meter’s expired.” He pointed to it and I looked down. Sure enough, it was glowing red. It’d expired ten minutes before.
“I’m so sorry. I was working on a paper and I guess I lost track of time,” I said, walking over and pulling the piece of paper out from under the windshield wiper and looking down at it, an obvious sigh of frustration escaping when I saw the $150 fine.
“I’m sorry, Miss Everly,” he said and I looked up in surprise that he knew my last name. “It was on the registration when I looked up the license plate while issuing the ticket.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, my body leaning against the car as I sighed again, staring down at the ticket, wondering how I was going to spare the money for the fine. “It’s not your fault. You’re just doing your job. I should’ve been more careful with the time.”
“Listen, Miss Everly,” he began.
“Sam,” I interrupted and I looked up from the ticket. He couldn’t have been much older than me, which probably explained why he was on traffic patrol.
“Listen, Sam,” he corrected himself. “I don’t give tickets to ruin people’s days.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I said with a laugh as I held up the ticket and I immediately regretted my sarcasm. “I’m sorry, Officer Torres,” I said in immediate apology. “That was unnecessary and inappropriate and I’m sorry. My frustration got the best of me. I’ve got to be to work in an hour and I was trying to get as much work done on my paper before I have to turn it in tomorrow. It’s my own fault though. I should’ve been more mindful of the time when I paid the meter. Have a good day.” My voice did not share the cordial words that left my mouth. I reached into my bag for my keys, unlocking the door and setting my bag on the passenger seat.
“We all have bad days,” the officer said. His voice was kind and it caused me to turn around, looking into his eyes which were nearly as dark as the black uniform he was wearing. He walked closer to me, pulling the ticket from my hand and crumpling it up before putting it in his pocket.
“What…what’re you doing?”
“Cutting you a break.”
“But why?” I asked. I wasn’t used to people doing nice things like this for me.
“Because everyone needs one once in a while and something tells me today’s your day.”
He smiled and I sighed again, this time in relief. I smiled back immediately, fighting the urge to give this man a hug of thanks.
“Won’t you get in trouble though?” I asked, suddenly worried about him, but he shook his head.
“I’ll be fine. You have a nice evening at work and good luck on your paper.”
“Thank you,” I said, pushing a piece of my wavy brown hair behind my ear. “Truly, thank you so much.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said and then he glanced towards the bags on the seat of my car. “What’s the paper for anyway? It must’ve been thrilling if it cost you to lose all sense of time.”
“It’s for my American History class.”
“History?”
“Yeah. It’s my major.”
“Where do you go?” he asked because it felt like there were a million colleges in Boston.
“Immanuel,” I told him and he nodded.
“Good school and right by Fenway. Can’t beat that.”
“No. You can’t,” I said and I smiled again at him.
“Well, good luck with the paper, Miss Everly.”
“Thank you,” I said and then it was quiet for a few seconds. “And thank you again for being so understanding. I owe you one.”
“Just set a timer the next time you use a meter.” He tipped his hat to me and smiled before turning and walking to the next meter. I stood at my car for another moment, thankful for the kindness Officer Torres had shown to me and then I reached into my bag for my credit card, swiping the meter and giving the next person a free hour of parking.
I glanced once more at the policeman and I knew he must’ve seen me put money on the meter because he grinned and nodded at me before I got in the car and drove back to my apartment.
I’d caught a break today and I hoped it was a sign that my night at work would be just as lucky.
“I was beginning to think you were never coming home.”
My sister Rachel was sitting on the couch watching TV and eating a bowl of cereal. I could tell she’d only woken up recently by the mats in her hair. While most people were winding down for the day at this time, she was just getting started with hers, having to work third shift in the labor and delivery department at Mass General. She amazed me sometimes. Despite everything we’d been through, she’d overcome it all and was in her second year as a registered nurse. I’d never seen anyone work as hard as her and I wished someday to be half the woman she was.
Even though we were sisters, we didn’t look anything alike, probably because we had different fathers. While my hair was brown, hers was blonde. While hers was pencil straight, mine was wavy. And while my eyes were blue, hers were brown. She was taller too and out of the two of us, she was the one with her head on her shoulders and she was doing her best to keep me on track. I attributed that to our three-year age difference. She’d had to grow up fast and she was the one I always looked to because she’d always been the one to keep us safe and I didn’t know what I’d do without her.
“I got caught up working on my paper,” I said, setting my stuff down and hurrying down the hall to my bedroom, stripping off my sweat shirt and yoga pants I’d been wearing and replacing it with a pair of jeans and the required green polo shirt that had O’Leary’s stitched across the right breast pocket in yellow thread. Working at an Irish pub wasn’t my dream job, but the tips could be decent and it worked with my school schedule.
“Did you at least get it finished?” I looked towards my door and saw my sister standing in the doorway, her arms folded seriously.
“Yes, Mother. I just have a few edits to do when I get home.”
“You shoudn’t wait till the last minute, Sam.”
“I didn’t. For your information, I’ve been working on that paper for weeks.”
I saw her roll her eyes.
“How could you have when you were spending all your time with Tyler?”
It was my turn to roll my eyes.
“Don’t start with this, Rache.”
“I don’t like him,” she said, her mouth forming into the same stern line she always had when talking about my boyfriend of the past six months.
“Why not?”
“You know why.” She was glaring at me now and I just brushed past her, walking into the bathroom, where I pulled my hair up into a ponytail.
“You barely even know Tyler.”
“I know enough. I’ve seen enough.”
Our eyes locked and I just shook my head before kissing her quickly on the cheek and going back to the living room to grab my purse.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rache. Have a good night at work,” I called to her.
“Please text me when you get home tonight so I know you’re safe,” she called back, but I could tell she was still annoyed at me. She’d get over it though. She always did.
“Yes, Mother,” I said before I closed the door and it was all too easy to see the image of my sister’s eyes rolling in my mind as I headed out to work.