Food Line

To her relief, Jorge quieted and began watching the tablet. They had been in line for over an hour and a half and she still couldn’t see the semi-trailer loaded with the boxes of food from Farmers to Families. She glanced at the gas gauge, relieved it showed a bit over half. The car in front inched forward again as did she. Maria looked the car behind her via the rearview mirror. The guy was busy picking his teeth when the car behind him honked; Maria smirked.

Maria put the car in park, reached back and pulled the tablet off the passenger headrest. She tapped the screen several times until the next episode began to play. “There we are.” She stuck it back on the headrest.

The stay home order was given nearly two months ago, but little easing had happened since then. The stay home order was given nearly two months ago with little hope of it easing soon. Malls remained closed. Non-essential businesses remained closed. She was on furlough from Hi-Jinx Bar and Grill for seven weeks now. Too many were still needing the few available hospital beds. Life couldn’t return to normal soon enough.

If someone told her she’d miss waiting tables and having her sixty-six-year-old mom watch Jorge, she would have said they were loco. Or, that she would miss picking up the extra hours since she kicked Luis, her abusive soon-to-be ex-husband, out eight months ago. During all that, she could only think about how much her back and feet hurt and how exhausted she felt.

Her mom had supported her decision to leave Luis until the pandemic took hold. ‘There’s a reason a woman needs a husband,’ her mother had said. ‘The money from his construction job is better than two waitress jobs. You and Jorge need him. Let him come back.’

Maria checked on Jorge via the rearview mirror. His eyes were almost closed and he was sucking on his fingers. Good, she thought, a nap is just what we both need.

She eased the car forward again and could finally see the three trucks with the boxes of food. There was more empty space than boxes. Hopefully, there would still be a box for them when they got there. Gloved and masked workers were handing the boxes in chain formation from the truck bed to others on the ground and continued passing them down a line of people. Others were pushing boxes into open trunks before slamming them shut and motioning for the drivers to leave.

After glancing in the rearview mirror at the car behind her, she allowed her gaze to her own reflection. Her jaw tensed. She now wore long bangs to cover the scar Luis gave her. Even before she cut her hair, no one mentioned the two-inch scar above her right eyebrow. Not even her own mother had asked how it happened or if she was okay.

It was so exhausting and lonely raising a child on her own. Jorge deserves better than his mom being abused by his dad, she thought. It was more difficult to admit she also deserved better than Luis.

The video stopped. Jorge was asleep, but she started another video anyway. Maybe he’ll sleep until we get home. They’d both be ready for lunch by then. Hopefully, the box paired with the sparse pantry would give her some inspiration.

A gloved and masked man motioned for her to pull forward. Maria reached down and pulled the lever for the trunk. The man’s eyes smiled when he looked at her and then at Jorge as he walked around the car with the box. The trunk slammed shut with a thunk and the he patted the lid. Maria looked in the mirror to see him wave goodbye before turning to the next car. Tears stung her eyes as she waved and drove away.