Faults Timothee Simonin '22 Jimmy scrambled into the diner parking lot weaving around the ditches trying to not further damage the black pickup whose engine rattled upon starting and whose brakes screeched at the slightest touch of the pedal. He left the truck and made his way through the crack- lled concrete that oozed out grass patches between its seams. About to open the back door, Jimmy caught Dale bringing the trash out. “Sorry, dad, I slept a little through my alarm.” “Long night, or what?” “Yeah.” “You smell like it. Go freshen up.” Jimmy walked inside, headed to the bathroom, and leaned over the sink. He looked up at the mirror and saw the glaringly obvious eye bags under his bloodshot eyes. Jimmy felt like his mind and body were in a race to see which could collapse rst. Neither one ever did because sadly, the race had become an almost daily occurrence that he became accustomed to. Jimmy downed some mouthwash and rinsed his face before heading out to the kitchen. To the untrained eye, it’s hard to separate the di erent parts of the kitchen; some type of metal covers every square inch of the place. Between the knives hanging atop the counter, identical cabinets with the same once shiny coating, and the uniform gray appliances that only partially worked, the kitchen seemed like an inescapable steel jungle, especially to Dale and his son. “Jimmy, come over here real quick, we gotta talk about something” said Dale from behind the counter. “All right,” Jimmy said. He walked over and took a seat on the swiveling foam countertop seat with cracked vinyl lining. Dale put his kitchen cap down and set his arms down on the counter, one work-worn hand over the other. “I don’t know how else to say it so I’m gonna just say it. You need to nd a way out of here. For your own sake.” “Yeah, don’t we all,” Jimmy replied. “No, I’m serious, son. I’ve been saving a little. Not much, but I think around $7,500 is probably enough for your rst year at college. But you have to drive down to State by next week. Semester starts then. They ain’t taking anyone after that.” Jimmy looked up from his cup of co ee and over towards his dad, who had just brought a thick envelope out from his jacket pocket. Jimmy’s face turned stale and his eyes opened wide enough to expose all of the red nerves on his eyes. “Now where in God’s name did you scrape all of that cash up?” Jimmy chuckled. “Oh, you know,” Dale began, “here and there, bit by bit.” “No way. I would’ve heard about this if it’s been going on for a while.”
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“A few years, by now. I started after your mother …”
