The Wastelands

Chapter 35

Marcus stood at the counter of the gas station, pretending his mind wasn't lost in whatever the future held. For three hours, he found it difficult to focus on work or helping customers or anything that didn't involve a plan to come up with a ton of money very fast. His body went through the motions of everyday tasks at the station, but his inner being was far away in his own little bubble of madness. A bubble that continued to expand and expand until he worried when it would burst and he'd lose all hope entirely.

Customers only made things worse.

Each time a person pulled up in a nice vehicle or came in wearing a fancy suit and tie, he wondered how nice it must be to afford things without worrying about getting arrested for owing too much on a bill. He faked a smile whenever those people thanked him, silently praying their car would stall or they'd lose control and crash into a ditch somewhere. He knew those ideas were morbid and it was jealousy causing him to think that way, but he refused to erase those notions. Somehow, watching those better off struggle once or twice in their lifetime made up for the fact that he'd been struggling his entire life.

It was never ending.

Starting when his sister refused to lend a hand at the farm and he shoved his entire life into helping his father. Charlotte's illness almost broke the family completely and he felt hopeless. Then Addie disappeared and abandoned them when they needed her the most. Every aspect of his mundane life started to build into a headache; one which aspirin could not subside. The only upside to anything, was Charlotte getting the treatments that made her better. Even that lasted a brief moment while his world continued to crumble.

The college gave him eleven days to come up with three year's-worth of tuition money all because the bank made an error they refused to correct. They wrote him off as being too poor to waste man hours trying to fix what they believed was his mistake, so they shrugged and turned a smug shoulder. He had less than one hundred dollars in his account and thinking about that miniscule amount made him feel like a joke. He was just tired of waiting for the punch-line.

By noon, the day was half over and he honestly didn't want to leave. If he worked every minute of the day, then maybe he could get enough to make them happy and possibly grant him a little more time. Although the idea was impossible and his manager would never allow it to happen, but his wildest dreams made anything possible.

In his imagination, he had no problems. The world owed him and he eagerly took what they offered. He graduated with honors and made his family the kind of money they deserved. He'd find a lovely young wife that would give him two children of his very own—a boy and a girl—and they'd have her looks and his work ethic. They'd grow old and happy and so in love it made other people sick.

That was the adventure Marcus spent his life dreaming of. Not running away to chase the madness that was far from possible like his sister had wanted. He chased after a normal life where bad things were only made up in nightmares. Where his children could grow up and achieve greatness instead of what reality shoved in his face. With his life spinning into turmoil, the dream seemed so far out of reach he thought for sure he'd never grasp it.

The bell above the door chimed throughout the gas station. He shook his daydreams from his mind and stood up straight. A man in a dark, grey suit stepped in and headed for the coolers in the back. The seal of the refrigerator door made its infamous suctioning noise, then squealed when the man let it bang shut. His heavy, polished shoes clanked on the tiled floor on his way to the counter and he waited for Marcus to ring up the total for gas and a drink.

He gave the man his total, then patiently waited for payment. The wealthy man pressed his thumb on the scanner, holding still until it beeped. The money would come straight out of his bank account and a receipt was automatically sent to his email. A green light flashed at the top and the transaction was successful.

"Thank you, have a good day." Marcus said with another fake smile.

"Thanks kid." The man replied, grabbing his soda, then left the station.

Marcus slouched on the stool and fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt. One of them didn't match the others. He snagged it on the front door of his house and lost it somewhere on the carpet. Lyndi borrowed one from an old flannel shirt of his fathers, then stitched the uniform back up. If she hadn't, he'd have to purchase a new uniform and pay for the damages out of his check. The uniforms weren't cheap either and he couldn't afford another mistake to burden his family with.

The Griffiths were in no position to deal with his financial troubles. Every penny they earned from the farm went back into the farm. It was expensive to keep going and they barely had enough to put food on the table. Only the brave took up farming as a lifestyle since the war and his family was considered crazy for continuing with the chore.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, wishing there was a way to clear his head and start from scratch. Erase his years at the college and go back to a time when his father begged him to stay home and help at the house instead of spending time at school. He had the chance to turn down the classes, but thought only of the bigger picture. With a degree in business, he could turn the farm around and make a profit for once. Now, he'd never see the day when his family didn't have to suffer.

As always his mind drifted back to blaming Addie.

Her aspirations cost him his entire life. He hit rock bottom because she wanted to find an easier way to live and Marcus refused to see it any other way. She left on her own, end of story. Lyndi and Charlotte could try arguing with him, but they failed each time. He needed to place blame on someone and Addie was the most logical target for one simple reason; she wasn't there. Disappearing meant she couldn't defend herself or argue about the choices she made. She couldn't stand up for herself and that meant she was guilty on all charges for ruining her only brother's life.

He opened his eyes and let out his breath. Two more customers strolled into the small building, younger than the man in the suit. They headed for the candy aisle, counting their dollars to see which bar they could afford. They were dressed nicely—in the best fashions money could buy—he assumed they could afford whatever they wanted. Both girls giggled and joked about something Marcus couldn't hear, but the smile on his face was less forced at their laughter. It somehow brightened his mood in the slightest way.

They each carried a pink bag of fruit-flavored candy to the counter and placed it alongside a small wad of cash. He rang up the sugary treats, then counted their money. They had a dollar more than he needed and the shorter of the two shoved it in her jacket pocket.

"Thank you." She said to him, passing him a friendly smile.

"Have a nice day." He replied, catching her eye for a brief moment.

She was a few years younger with blonde hair and blue eyes. She appeared sweet and kind with a soul to match. Her friend appeared less than sweet with black hair and eyes so brown they matched. She passed him more of a snarl before walking outside to enjoy the sweets. Just a couple of snobby rich girls out for an afternoon snack.

"I hate when poor people try to be nice to us." He caught her saying on the way out. "Can't they see we're better than them?"

The brunette laughed in a cute chuckle, glancing back to see that Marcus had heard the comment. She rolled her eyes and continued bragging about their money with her friend as they got further away from the station.

Marcus lowered his eyes as the door swung closed. The only thing worse than the constant dread of going to prison over an unpaid bill was being talked down to by a couple of strangers. He felt the sudden urge to crawl into a hole somewhere and allow his life to slip away until nothing remained.

For a split second after they left, he actually wanted to die. He worked the rest of the day, into the evening, hoping someone would show up with a gun and shoot him before taking off with the money in the drawer. When that never happened, he knew he'd have to trudge through another day waiting until he woke up in a cell.