On the Way to Chicago by John Iwaniec

Sarah stepped out of her car and almost fell back from the 110 degree July air that had not a cloud in the sky. Her eyes squinted from the painfully bright sunlight as she searched for the entrance of the Mojave Café.

The East facing door handle was hot on her fingers. Quickly she entered
a cool, darkened, room and saw a dozen local customers taking refuge from the heat.

The regular customers virtually lived at the café and nursed bottomless cups of lukewarm coffee. Stories were told and retold and told again. It had become an art form to embellish their “war stories” until even the one telling the story came to believe it.

As Sarah looked about for a table the conversations halted. Curious eyes followed her. It definitely perked up the bored coffee drinkers with the hope of something new.

A twenty-five year old man bussing the tables seemed to be the only one who didn’t notice. He went about clearing the dirty dishes to wash in the back in a never ending routine. He rarely spoke and showed very little emotion. To the regulars and waitresses he seemed to be one of those hapless men to whom the social games between men and women were as mysterious as atomic physics. He always seemed to be on the outside of the inside jokes.

“Hey John,” an older man said to the dishwasher, “how ‘bout that gal in the yellow? She looks a bit lonely. Why don’t you go and introduce yourself?”
The group at his table chuckled approvingly. John’s face reddened slightly; he took the dishes to the back.

“Haven’t seen you here before.” One of the men said to Sarah from across the room. “We’re you from?”

Sarah glared at him with steely eyes. “Planet Earth!” She shot back and then looked down on her menu.

A half hour later when John returned to the dining room Sarah was still there. She motioned to him and when he came to her table she asked, “Do you have a light?”

“You mean like a Bud Light?”

“Ha ha, no, that’s funny. I mean like a book of matches.”

“I’ll see if I can find some for you.” John walked to the cash register to find a book of complimentary matches. Before he could complete his task Barbara, the manager, told him, “John, I need you to pick up the litter in the parking lot. The big bosses are on their way.”

“I, I,…I need to get some matches,” he stammered.

“The parking lot,” she said firmly.

The young man was feeling as though he had been slapped on both sides of his face. Something snapped and primal juices began to boil in his blood. For a long moment he stood still as if catatonic. At last with a Zen like moment of enlightenment he took off his apron and handed it to Barbara. “I quit! Please accept my resignation. May I have some matches now?” Barbara looked at her ex-dishwasher with the sorrowful eyes of a mother watching a son leave for the army.

He took the matches to the lady dressed in the yellow jump suit who would soon become the new topic of conversation among the coffee drinkers.

“Thank you.” She said. “I notice that you have your apron off. Are you done with work?”

“Yeah, you might say that. I just quit.” The liberated dishwasher was about to walk away.

“Wait. My name is Sarah. Would you like to talk about it?

John looked surprised, then sat down on the chair beside her. “I’m John. There isn’t much to tell. When I started here I only planned to catch up on my rent. That was two years ago. I still don’t have any more than when I started. I want to do something else…I don’t know what, but I’m not made for this.”

“Are you married?”

“Nope. I live alone. Guess you could call me a loner.”

Sarah took a sip from her coffee and set it down. “I suppose you could call me a loner too.” Their eyes met in a long silence. It did not feel awkward. John and Sarah felt very comfortable in one another’s gaze. Sarah decided to take a sudden gamble. “Ride with me to Chicago. I’ll pay the expenses and for your trip back.”

“Heh heh heh.“ A chuckle slipped from John’s lips…, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. I just thought of something funny from long ago. If you’re serious I’d like to go with you.”

“I’m serious.”

“Let’s go.”


In the parking lot John followed Sarah toward a Honda Civic parked next to a new Mercedes. He walked to the passenger side of the Honda. Sarah smiled and pointed to the Mercedes. “This one.”

The ex-dishwasher suddenly looked troubled and hesitated. “Look Sarah, I’m not such good company. Maybe we should forget about this.”

Now, Sarah was disappointed, but not yet discouraged. She thought carefully before speaking. “Do you believe in omens?”

“Yeah, I’m not superstitious, but yes, I believe in omens.”

She went on, “Do you see that Exxon station over there? Let’s go inside; I’ll buy a one dollar Lotto ticket. If it wins, let’s say…$5 exactly, we go to Chicago. If not, we go our separate ways. Is it a deal?”

“Sure.”

After the purchase and scratching of the ticket Sarah grinned and handed John a Lotto ticket that was a $5 winner.

The puzzled young man shook his head in disbelief. “I guess we go to Chicago.”

Classic pop music came softly through the Bose speakers of the luxury car. Not much was said until they turned into the TA truck stop at Baker, California. John marveled at the vast number of trucks and more trucks pulling in with drivers who searched for a parking space. Sarah fueled; they then proceeded to the Starbucks across the street for a tall cup of Americano. John passed on the upscale drinks. “Taste this,” Sarah said, handing the cup to him. He took a sip. “Not bad. If you don’t mind the expense I’ll have one myself.”

From the interchange Sarah went from the I-15 to the I-40 eastbound. “Why did you change your mind after we left the coffee shop?” She asked.

John squirmed slightly and hesitated at the question. “I’m not a reverse snob but just felt like I was out of my league with a rich person who drives a new Mercedes.”

“Rich? You think I’m rich? I’m not rich. I work for a transport company and deliver expensive cars and motor homes all over the country. You should think about doing this yourself. It’s a great way to make a living for someone not tied down. I tell you true, I don’t know what made me take a gamble on you. There is just something in your eyes that I feel safe with. Speaking of gamble, lets go to Laughlin. It’s the best gambling city in Nevada.”

“You’re allowed to do that?”

“You bet. I told you this is a great job. Besides, I’ll only be a hundred miles and two hours out of my way.”

Their first stop was Laughlin, Nevada where Sarah turned the Mercedes over to the valet at the Edgewater Hotel. Sarah bought twenty dollars in quarters, handed John half of the quarters and the two frolicked like children going from one slot machine to another throughout the Casino. It was not that the winnings where so great, but that they were consistently getting out more money than they put in. Every winning pull was a confirmation that they where meant to be together on this spontaneous lark to Chicago.Omens where everywhere. Outside, before them a hawk landed on the railing at the Colorado River. A school of twenty or so large fish gathered before them as they stood on the landing. Sarah and John did not know each other, but neither could remember feeling so happy as they felt today in each other’s company. A cascade of magical moments had been touching them since they left California. John was twenty-five years old. Sarah was thirty-five years old. For the moment they were both at the age of six. Even the warm evening air under a neon desert sky seemed to be caressing them with kisses.Sarah paid for a room that had two queen beds and the happy adventurers felt giddy as they entered and closed the door behind them.Sarah flopped on the bed by the window. John sat on the bed by the door. "Can you believe our luck? John, you are my lucky charm. Everything we touched turned to gold."John laid back. "I thought it was you that was giving me good luck.""Come over here, I promise, I wont bite." John lay next to Sarah on top of the bedding. They reveled in their good fortune for awhile and eventually changed the subject to each other. Neither was married, nor had ever been married. It was going into the night as they found a rhythm in their rapport that revealed neither had ever been intimate with another.“I do have something to confess.”John kidded, “You mean beside the Mercedes?”“Do you remember when I showed you that winning five dollar ticket? Well, I cheated. I already had a winning five dollar ticket that I switched before you looked at it.”“That’s pretty sneaky.” John grinned.Sarah continued. “The funny thing is, later on I discovered that the other one I bought was also a five dollar winner. We were meant to be on this trip to Chicago.”“Suddenly John broke with that same laugh that puzzled Sarah at the coffee shop. "What is so funny?" Sarah demanded with a wounded voice.Again John laughed. "Sarah, when you asked me if I wanted to go to Chicago with you I suddenly remembered an older friend that would ask his wife if she felt like going to Chicago. I didn't know what it was about until you asked me the same question earlier today. After all these years I figured out that it was his way of asking his wife if she wanted to get friendly."Sarah gave John a tender slap and with a pout said, "Good night, John."In a playful way, John said, "Good night, Lauren." "Why did you call me Lauren?" "Did I call you Lauren? Yeah, Sarah, if I closed my eyes and listened to you talk it would make me think that I was with Lauren Bacal. You know, that movie star who was married to Humphrey Bogart. You have a voice that I could listen to the rest of my life. It is like getting a massage on my brain."Sarah looked at John across the aisle between the two beds. "I suppose that I'm supposed to say something funny. The truth is that I'm touched." John walked over to Sarah and gave her a light kiss. "Goodnight, Sarah. I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. John returned to his bed and turned out the lights.