Faults……..…………………………………………………..…………………………….……….……………Timothee Simonin, VI

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-filled 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 first. 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 different 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 find 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 first 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 coffee 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.” “A few years, by now. I started after your mother …”

“What does her leaving have to do with this? With us?” “I didn’t want to see it happen again. With you.” “What do you mean?” “Why do you think she left, son? Back then I told you one thing, but you’re 18 now. I think you’d know if you thought hard. She saw nothing for herself here. This town. This restaurant. Hell, she didn’t even see any ambition in me.” Dale looked over at his son. “Now I’m starting to see what she was talking about. You go out every night until god knows when doing god knows what, running yourself into the ground. You’re running away from your future.” Jimmy, taken aback, sat up and frowned. “I know that you know that there’s a dozen different things in the restaurant that could use that money.” Jimmy did a visual tour of the place and saw the four booths in the back with practically no cushion left, then over at the windows, where the white letters that spelled out “DALE’S DINER” on the exterior had peeled off.. Out of sight was the kitchen, which Jimmy knew had its own plethora of malfunctioning machinery. But Dale saw no rush to fix anything as long as no one used the extra space or ordered enough to need the extra appliances. “The money ain’t for that.” “I-It should be.” spat out Jimmy. He clenched his fist and his grip on the coffee mug in an attempt to appear serious and in control, but his face disagreed with his body. His eyes twitched around, peering around the diner yet never made contact with Dale. “Half of the flat-top doesn’t work and don’t you dare get me started on the oven. It’s gonna go under, don’t kid yourself.” “Jimmy, I’ll figure it out, I swear. But you need this. Look at yourself for a second. Where are you headed? What happened to … the old you? The one who didn’t run away from his life?” “Why does it matter? I’m here helping you and we’re both managing. No one can even make it out of this town.” “Well if anyone can it’s y-” “But why, dad, what’s the point?!” Jimmy interrupted. “It--It’s…” Dale sighed. “I’m the one that’s got you trapped in here. I’ve never given you much and I don’t want you to have nothing much to give your children.” `“Stop with this crap. Quit trying to feel bad for me because we’re in a sh*tty situation. It was bad then, it’s bad now, and it won’t change. We’re cursed, dad” “There’s no such thing as curses, son. We’re just tight on money.” “What’s the difference?” Dale pondered a response to Jimmy’s question and opened his mouth as if to say something, but he was left with an empty mind. He instead stood up from his stool and stored the envelope behind on the other side of the countertop. “I just want what’s best for you, Jimmy. Now put your apron on, we open soon.”

Jimmy left the kitchen out the back, where the only illumination left was the flicker of a buzzing streetlight. The pickup rattled to a start, and he drove over to Cole’s shoddy trailer for his nightly retreat where he could immerse himself in a timeless bubble. Cole inherited his trailer in his sophomore year of high school after cops found his mom with a needle in her arm and didn’t bother to relocate him. Since graduating, he barely held himself together with a job at the grocery store and the local theater. Cole introduced weed to Jimmy when Jimmy was still trying to find his crowd in early high school. Ever since, they had been getting high together all too often. Jimmy didn’t know any better; he would get home from school only to arrive at an empty house, void of parenting until Dale would come back after closing the diner. Sometimes Jimmy and Cole got high to escape their realities, but most of the time it was just because it felt good and they had nothing better to do.

The issue of the money lived like a parasite in his mind; it started out in the front but quickly receded to the back, leaving Jimmy unbothered for a while. But now, alone in his thoughts, Jimmy let the barrier down and the parasite came back and crawled to the forefront. He parked in front of the trailer, in the divot that his truck had imprinted on the dirt and yanked open the punctured screen door. “I need it bad today, Cole,” Jimmy muttered. “You’re excited today. Sh*t, well I’m not complaining. I could use a good hit, too.” “My dad’s just got me thinking.” “About what” “About me” “Well that’s a first!” laughed Cole while reaching for a lighter. “But he doesn’t know what I need. Or what he needs, either. He’s trying to get me out of here. To State.” “Damn. What’s there to think about?” Cole took his first hit. “I don’t think the restaurant’s gonna last much longer,” Jimmy muttered, “my dad’s in way over his head.” “We’ve been getting high, talking about headaches for like three years. You don’t care much for that diner. Hell, you used to pray to god that your old man would walk away from it. It’s something else.” “Maybe.” Jimmy took his first hit and Cole went back for seconds. “I just don’t get why I need to leave. Everyone I’ve ever known who was born in Gorham never left. Like they’re bound to stay. Tethered to this place.” “Well what’s that gotta do with you?” blurted out Cole. Cole was trying to keep his eyes open and help Jimmy, but his eyelids kept getting heavier and heavier and he had to fight the temptation of fading into his own thoughts. “F***, man,” went Jimmy, “what am I gonna do if I go?” replied Jimmy with open eyes staring right at the ground in front of him

“You’ll be fine, dude, just … you’ll be OK” spat out Cole. Jimmy was too zoned in on his thoughts to notice that Cole had taken his third hit. “Will I? I don’t want to be the small town bum out there, man. I can’t change that about me, this town stamped it on me the second I was born. At least in Gorham there’s no expectation for success or whatever.” “Why d-do you think you’re gonna fail.” “I don’t know that I will, I’m just scared that I will, you know? I’m safe over here. I’ve got nothing to risk.” “You know what, you probably know what’s best for you, Jimmy,” mustered Cole. Cole had receded into the back of his mind. His eyes were shut and his consciousness was in a world of its own. Jimmy looked over at Cole and saw his friend passed out with his head slumped on his shoulder. Jimmy got up from the stained couch and left the trailer. He tried to give his full attention to the road, but he was too plagued by the clawing enigma. As he drove through the poorly illuminated woods of Gorham, his thoughts began popping out all at once like an overfilled bag of corn kernels in a microwave; the bag would soon enough explode, and it was just a matter of time. Would he let his dad down? What should he do? Would his dad be fine without the money? How much would the money help Dale? What should he do? Could he change at college? Could he make it worthwhile? What should he do? What would he do if he failed? Is he being selfish if he stays?

BEEP! A blur of lights came whizzing from Jimmy’s right side before swerving left into a corner store just fast enough to avoid Jimmy’s truck. Jimmy belatedly slammed on his brakes after he passed the car and came to a stop on the side of the road, still coming to consciousness with what had just occurred. Mentally shaken, he put one foot out the door and looked behind him towards the scene. A gray Toyota covered in broken glass embedded its front end into a convenience store. The driver, not bleeding yet holding his head, stepped out from the debris and looked around for the guilty party. He saw Jimmy, who had half of his body looking out of the truck and the pale face of a ghost.

“Dumbass!” the man yelled. “Red means stop! Where’d you learn to drive, huh?”

Jimmy threw himself back into his seat and stared straight ahead with his eyes wide open. The hiss of the crumpled Toyota engine slowly became louder and louder until it erupted into a deafening ring in his ears. The streetlight pierced straight through Jimmy’s winshield and onto him, where the shadow of his hair hanging over his forehead darkened his eyes.

“Don’t you hide from me boy! Look at the damage you done caused!” The man continued. “I know you now! You’re the black Ford! Come out and let’s talk!”

Jimmy buried his forehead in his palms and ran his fingers through his oily hair, trying to conjure a solution to the problem he had just created. He peered up at the rearview mirror and saw the man walking over. Jimmy gave himself no choices. He took his car out of park and began to pull out from the side of the road.

“Don’t you dare!” the man yelled to no avail. Jimmy drove off and nothing the man would have said could have stopped Jimmy’s tear-filled eyes from looking back. “Come back, boy, you’ll regret it!”

Hands shaking, Jimmy made it to the diner. Once inside, he picked up the envelope and held it in his hand. In the sheer thickness of it he could feel new vinyl seats and could hear the crackle of a perfect flame of a new stove. But those sensations faded quickly as Jimmy pocketed the envelope. He took out and wrote on a waiter’s notepad that he left on the counter, saying:

“LAST TIME I RUN AWAY, DAD. ”