Twenty-Five Cents by Joni Caggiano

Image Source: Canva Pro

Long John Silvers was one of my first jobs in high school.  Riding my bike on Saturday, hungry, smelly, and with jeans that hugged my thin frame to the point of being naughty, I went inside.  The sign on the door said, “Help Needed.”   

All the high schoolers went there to eat lunch because it was close, cheap and fast.  Having only two classes in the morning I could work most of the day.  I confidently walked up to the cash register as I desperately needed a job. 

The manager hired me immediately, and I started the next day.  I was fast, efficient, and an extremely hard worker.  After a month, I got a nice raise and was in charge of the register.  I made the next car payment on the old blue Maverick, for which my dad agreed to pay the insurance.

It was my second month on the job.  Mr. Gorgeous sashayed into Long John Silvers with his muscular body in one of his beautiful suits.  He always came alone and early.  He would sit at the table right where he could watch me.  I was flattered.  In a city where women out numbered men three-to-one, a young woman’s choices were limited.  

On a typical first date here, a guy always made his move, and I don’t mean necking.  He would head straight for the rose.  Did these men think I had no value?  Was I just another piece of meat to them?  It turns out – yes.  Once, after dinner, one of these men, on our first date, took me back to his house.  He played Peter Gabriel and slowly laid me on my back, and I asked him what he was doing.  He responded, “This is when all the other girls would be ready.”  I could not stop laughing and realized my time here would be long and lonely.

After three months, Mr. Gorgeous finally decided to talk to me, and I was grateful.  I hadn’t been out in months.  After he finished his fish and chips, he walked up to me assuredly and, with a soft voice, said, “My name is Ben, and I am sure you know I am not coming here for the fish.  Can I take you out for dinner on Saturday night?  I have been watching you for a while now, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

I tried my best to look demure as if truly contemplating my answer, as my cheeks felt like they were on fire.  I worried I had practically spit out the answer.  “What time?  Just a moment, and I will be back with my address.”  A smile grew on his strong, handsome face that was just shy of mischievous. 

When I handed him the address, he said, “Pick you up at 7:00 PM for dinner and I am looking forward to it.  See you Saturday.”

Colleen, my blond, curly-haired, married co-worker, made all kinds of nasty noises every time we got close to each other for the rest of the shift.  She shared everything with me.  She was married to a man who came home from work late every night and checked the sheets in their bedroom to see if he saw any stains or could smell a man.  She told me he never hit her, but I never believed it.

Colleen was a hoot, and I was so grateful God had dropped this exciting woman in the store.  The two of us had too much fun to get paid, in spite of how gross the manager was or how busy it got. 

Saturday, I curled my long hair and wore a beautiful new summer dress my mom had made.  It was a red floral pattern and hung off my shoulders, and I felt pretty.  I wondered what suit he would wear.  My parents were not drinking and I thought my dad might have been worried.  I asked my dad if I could just get the door when he arrived.  Dad said it was fine as he handed me a quarter.  I was nervous, but I still made a giggle and left the quarter on the TV on my way out the door.  I never carried a purse, didn’t wear lipstick, and after all, with the way he looked, I was sure he would have money.

Jumping when the doorbell rang, I immediately opened the door, and he stood there in worn-out overalls.  What was this, I wondered?  I was immediately disappointed, even more so when I saw he was driving a Corvette.  Oh no, I thought, how disappointing.

He barely had anything to say as he took me to an unbelievably large house in a subdivision.  We walked in, three girls were in the living room, and he told me he would only be a minute.  The girls talked about how often they had gotten pregnant, and I felt uncomfortable.  My fright or flight instinct was kicking in, and I had to make a move.  I stormed into the kitchen, wondering what the crap he was doing in there and how vulgar and disappointing he was.  White lines were all over the kitchen counter, and they were taking turns. 

Immediately, I walked out of the kitchen and out of the house.  I started walking, and with no sense of direction and no quarter, I just kept walking and hoped I would come up with an idea.  I started praying, and I was terrified. 

After about half an hour, he pulled up, and I ignored him, but he told me to get in, and I didn’t know what else to do.  I told him to take me home, and after taking a big drink from the mini keg of beer, he agreed. 

When we entered my neighborhood, he stopped his car, got out, took his penis out of his overalls, and took a leak right underneath the bright street light.  Returning to the car, his dick was still hanging out of his pants, if you could call it that.  A girl needed a magnifying glass to find it.  I was disgusted and disappointed but thankful to God for getting me home.

When the car stopped, I ran up to my house.  When I opened the door, he forced his foot in the frame of the door, and shoved me inside. This giant man shoved me onto our sofa and began touching my breasts.  I immediately felt this complete sense of control come over me.  After all, I had been through almost everything a girl could survive, and fear was the norm.  I quit fighting him and said, “You know what?  Go ahead, but know this, one scream from me and my dad will shoot you!  He will pull you off of me, shoot you in the living room, and most likely blow off that pretty mug of yours!”

I don’t think I have ever seen anyone run so fast out of a house.  The funny thing was, I was right.  My dad would have got him away from me, and he would have splattered that man all over the living room.  My dad had been in the military for over twenty years, and even though he was an abusive alcoholic, he loved his daughter.

-JONI CAGGIANO

Joni is an internationally known and published poet, photographer, and author.  She is a co-author of the Amazon #1 bestselling poetry anthology “Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women”, and the upcoming poetry anthology, “Hidden in Childhood” to be released late January 2023 by Literary Revelations.  She is a regular contributor to MasticadoresIndia and a regular contributor to MasticadoresUSA and Spillwords Press NYC, where she has been twice nominated and won Publication of the Month for, “Love Me Like a Luna”, (November 2022).  As a surviving Adult Child of Alcoholics (ACOA), Joni’s blog is Rum and Robots and her complete list of books, anthologies, magazines and contests can be found at Joni Caggiano’s Publications.  Joni’s blog is an effort to help other ACOAs through faith and a strong kinship with nature.  Joni is also a retired nurse.

You can also read her writing on Instagram @jonicaggiano and Twitter @theinnerchild1.

We would love to read your work. Interested? Please READ our SUBMISSION GUIDELINES.

-MASTICADORESINDIA

Advertisement