The drive-thru

"How was your weekend?" I asked as we lazily collected money and took orders in drive-thru.

"I tried to kill myself," She said as she made a pop and handed it to me. "But don't tell any one. They just think I fell and knocked over a vase. The glass cut my hands as it shattered."

She shrugged. 

The tattooed rainbow on her arm hinted at the source of her agony---why society has rejected her. 

But I took the pop and handed it out the window. I wasn't meant for this--to  stop death. So I tell her it will be ok. I listened to what was not said. I told her not to do it again. She didn't. 

Sometimes I worked with another. 
"They called me Sha nay nay in jail," She laughed as her blonde hair bounced around in its ponytail. "Cause I was the baddest chick in there."

She then proceeds to say the line she learned in jail: you don't know me. you don't know where I come from. you dont' know nothin' bout me

And I don't. 

I just know that she cried every morning because her daughter might get taken away by her father whom she met just once. Her accidental marriage in Vegas resulted in a baby. 

Sometimes there was another one working with me. 

"I still work here, even though I'm fifty," she would say, trying to keep up with the pace of the cars lining up. 
"My husband and daughter don't appreciate me."

I wonder how much longer she can last. It seems each day she is slowing down. 

Then sometimes he was working.

"Ven aqui chica! Dame un beso."

His wife was in the other room. 

"Esta bien. It's just one kiss" I walk away. 

I never touched him, or wanted to. But his wife hates me. 

I walk back to my station. I stare at the rainbow tattoo wondering how that symbol of happiness causes her such pain. 

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