Different Masks

I closed my history book, spooned out the last of the chili. The regulars, the ones that came in after sunset began to file in. Gene walked up and put my meal ticket on the counter.

"Want this on your tab like always, Robbie?" Gene asked.

I nodded. We had an agreement, once I made a little money from odd jobs; we would settle up and start over.

I stepped out onto the iron stoop of Gene's place. A cold wind swam over me. I buttoned the one button on my coat, blocking out the wind. The old timers often said, "Robbie, you'd be a fool to stick around here once you're grown." They were right and in four years when I turned eighteen, I was leaving.

I headed to the house, not running this time, but walking slow, putting off my arrival. The house was dark like always. I put on a mask before going in, an imaginary one that I used around my step-father. I had different masks, one for school, one for working along side grown men, and the (I'm not afraid of you) mask I wore at the house.

I was lucky this time. He was asleep in front of the flickering RCA, the only light in the house. I managed to sneak by him and get to my room without making a sound.

Shivering, I jumped into bed and threw the covers over my head. I used a flashlight to read about the Trojan War in my history book. Tomorrow I would help Ned Clark put a new track on his bulldozer. It was dirty work, hard on the hands, but Ned always paid good.

Saturday evening I would settle up with Gene...before the regulars came in.