Part 3

The girl paces back to the counter. With hands high in the pockets of the maroon track suit, she eyes the food behind the chilled glass: smoked salmon, grilled chicken, cheese, cold cuts and vegetables. She pulls out a handful of change and sifts through coins. Maria examines her. She hoists her pink palm closer to her eyes. She turns and shuffles the coins. She frowns. She looks around. She walks away mumbling to herself. Then she paces back.

“I’m still hungry. I want more bacon,” says the girl into the warm air. Her body shivers in a tantrum. She walks to my table and sits across from me.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” I reply. Her misery makes me breathe easier. I spin the silver and blue cigarette pack, and the silver reflects the sun, and the light travels across the walls. The girl leans in. Coconut smell envelops me.

“Can you do me a favour?” Her eyes study me.

“What kind of favour?” I smile absurdly. I’m not nervous yet.

“I’m hungry. I need more bacon,” she says. Her voice lowers, and eyes fire around the quiet shop “Maybe I could do something for you later if you get me that bagel.”

“Do what?” I ask. My mind freezes with the implication. I see her body in frozen stills. I see her hips swing. I see her in a kitchen surrounded by plastic decorations. I see her from above in corridors of the neighbourhood’s apartment buildings – dark and busy with feet of the deprived. I see a green soiled carpet and the girl’s soiled lips.

I pull my last five-dollar bill from my pocket. Her eyes glow.

“I can do stuff for you, sir,” she whispers and rubs fingers of one hand between the fingers of the other. Her eyes stare at the bill. Her dark skin is clean and dry, her eyes cautious, and her big teeth happy and beautiful. I stand up and Maria looks at me with judgement.

“Hey girl, give the kid a bacon bagel. Don’t spare the bacon,” I smile at the kid.

“And an egg. Give me a big egg!” The girl jumps up and shouts.

“Yeah, give her a big egg. Keep the change. Just feed her.”

Maria takes the five and the little golden cross dangles as she fixes the bagel. I sit back and the kid keeps pushing, asking for more meat, and hustling for the change I left with Maria. The smell of hot bacon and melting cheddar fill the warm air.

The girl sits down and chews.

“So where do we go?” the kid whispers. Frozen stills charge back into my head: soiled green carpets, long dark hallways, staircases. I fear for her body. I fear for my soul.

“Just eat it up,” I say with a swollen throat. I gather my gloves, jacket and sunglasses. I say, “Goodbye,” and walk outside where I see my breath in the sunlight.