My Story Pt4

     After that my mom never let me meet anyone else she was dating until they were official. She made exasperated faces at me when I said I didn't like him. I never really did. They always smiled at me with their mouths and never their eyes. Who really enjoys beeing mean mugged by a child with sad eyes, though? I get that often still, that my eyes are sad. I try to smile even when I don't feel like it to avoid "what's wrong?" I went to daycare for a week. I won't tell you that story or you'll really think I'm just complaining. In the end I was sent to the "Service Station" with MamDean and Puda. That was best. I learned my colors, numbers, how to pump gas, what a spark plug was, and that drunk people literally pee anywhere they feel they can. There I learned more than what I would have at any daycare.
     Some days I never went home. I would wake up and MamaDean would dress in me in the cutest clothes, I wasn't allowed to take these home. "Ya Mama just gone let you ruin em. Look at these rags she sent back last time. This aint fit for a begga." She always worked her jabs at my mother into conversation as if it were normal to hear people talk that way. After we were dressed and she had brushed my ears to the side of my had, "tryna get cha edges", we would head to McDonald's to get "James breakfass" and coffee. Once we had this we would go and open the gas station. If Charmell, my oldest sister, was in school then we would drop her. I loved that part the best because she would let me carry her bookbag inside with the big kids and she smiled at me and seemed proud that I was her little sister. Then I would spend the rest of my day watchin MamaDean gossip about the people in town, seeing the regulars come and go, and watch "stowries". I was always quiet. I don't remember playing with toys. I remember watching the people come in and out of the building. Back then I had no idea how gas in cars worked and I was confused as to why the same people came back so often for it. MamaDean always wore jeans and a button down shirt. She kept her hair tied and one hand on her hip. I always knew when she didn't like someone because she wouldn't even bother to ask them how they were doing and when they left she told me ALL about how they had pissed her off.
     I always wondered why her word was the last in every argument and why people rarely tested her until one day. I saw a drunk stumble up to the gas pump, unzip his pants, and start to pee right on the side of it. I jumped around pointing and yelling her name. She marched right out the front door "Now stay right dere yaheah?" I nodded but I crept up behind her. It was a long walk to the pumps, not like now where you take two steps and you're there. It was probably three times the distance. Attached to the right side of the gas station was the body shop. In front of it and to the left was laundry they also owned and ran. She marched with one hand on her hip and not a second of hesitation in her step. I heard Puda call out, " Now Geraldine!" She didn't even turn to look at him or slow her pace. She marched. The drunk man, having relieved himself slumped up against one of the pumps. She walked right up beside him, unhooked a nozzle, and pressed the trigger pouring gas all over him. She went in her pocket, grabbed a pack of matches, and struck one. She said this and I never forgot it or saw him again, "Now ya look heah. I'll light cho ass on fire and blow us both to hell if you don't tell me right nah I won't see ya no where neah my gas pump again." She didn't yell it. She didn't have any venom in her voice. She just stared at him. He stuttered, " Aww Mrs. Griffis why you gone do me like that? I aint mean nothing! I swear I won't come round here no mo." She blew out her match and said, " and don't you fuckin Mrs Griffis me...pissin on my damn pumps." I turned and ran because I could see her coming back to the station. That wasn't the last time I ever saw her get wreckless with someone else's life. It got to the point where none of the bums even crossed their property to get to the other side of the street.