Leaving Unknown by Kerry Reichs Read Free Book Online

Rico’s with no problem, because I’d made Darryl draw me a map to supplement his helpful directions. Okay Burrito was a generic-looking place with a big marketing challenge convincing people the food was better than the titular proclaimed average. It was run by a short Hispanic man sporting the most precise middle part I’d ever seen and a trim mustache. Rico’s nervous energy made it seem like he was fluttering even when he was standing still. When I explained why I was there, his face split into a huge grin.
    “You start now?”
    It was three o’clock. “Sure.”
    “Good, good.” He actually rubbed his hands together. And then he disappeared, leaving me alone in the restaurant. I was startled. I’d at least expected a lesson in how to make a burrito, and maybe an apron, but I shrugged it off. How hard could itbe? You throw a bunch of stuff in a tortilla and roll it up. It’s not like the customer could see what was inside. I was studying the menu when Rico reappeared.
    “Yes, yes. You’re just the right size.”
    Size? Oh, right. Apron. It wasn’t the cleanest thing I’d ever seen. It was actually brown. And sort of…furry.
    “You can try on in back. I’ll stay here.”
    And then he handed me a donkey suit.
    “What…” When I hesitated, he shook it at me.
    “You pass out these.” He pointed to a stack of flyers. “You get customers into the restaurant.”
    My mouth dropped open.
    He waggled the donkey again. “You work all day, $50 cash. No tax. And, burrito for lunch and dinner.”
    I grabbed the donkey suit. It looked like it would fit just fine.
     
    After an all-egg diet, the burritos were heaven on earth. The work was not. The not-too-hot day was gone. Or, maybe synthetic donkey suits are endothermic. For whatever reason, I was sweating my ass off. I refused to think of my sweaty predecessors. Instead I smiled at passersby and tried to force flyers they didn’t want into their hands. I reminded myself not to take it personally when people crossed the street to avoid me. I did that with perfume squirters at the mall. Though after a few hours as a burro, a spritz wouldn’t have hurt me any.
    At 9 P.M. Rico locked the front doors and handed me thirty dollars and a burrito.
    “You come back tomorrow. You make good donkey.” He fluttered at me. I felt more like an ass when I climbed on the bike to pedal home, donkey hanging around my neck like a bad Hercules impersonation, furry legs waving in the wind.
    The shop was closed when I got back. I could see Oliver sleeping in his cage through the window. I pressed my hand against the glass as if it would bring us closer. It was the safest place for him, but I felt very cut off. My phone was dead—I needed Elsie to charge it—and I was separated from my bird. Both hands on the glass now, I watched Oliver sleep. I resolved never to go to prison. To be permanently separated from what you loved by glass would be horrible. Tears threatened to leak out of the corners of my eyes. Since I’d never been more alone, I could have let them. But with resolute hands I wiped them away and straightened.
    “You did good today, kid,” I told myself, and went to get comfortable on my asphalt bed. I didn’t even read a page of my normal nightly reading before I was sound asleep.
     
    “Genie grants a Texan an’ a Oklahoman each a wish,” Darryl started his joke. “Texan says, ‘I wanna wall so high and thick, nuthin’ can get inter or outer Texas. Keep dem Okies out.’ ‘Bam,’ genie says, an’ it’s done. Oklahoman scratches ’is head, thinks a bit, an’ asks, ‘So that thar wall is so thick nuthin’ can get inter or outer Texas?’ ‘Yep,’ says the genie. ‘Right then,’ Okie says. ‘Fill it with water.’” Darryl chuckled loudly at his own joke.
    I laughed, though I’d heard six variations on the same basic theme in only a few days in Oklahoma. I suspected I’d hear six more variations in Texas, with the states reversed.
    Crystal