Chapter 35
THIRTY FIVE
I DRIVE WITH no real destination. The city lights zoom past my windows, streaks of orange and white painting the dark interior. My hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white. My head is a deafening space. The only sound is Matthew’s voicemail, replaying on a merciless loop.
Where do you go when you have no home?
When the one place that felt like your sanctuary now feels like a prison?
The restless energy that pushed me out the door still thrums, demanding escape.
That’s when I see it.
Rising above the downtown buildings ahead. The illuminated curve of the State Capitol dome. It glows, a warm beacon in the darkness. The memory of that night surfaces with clarity:
Matthew laughing with Sal. The simple pleasure of burgers eaten on a stone bench. Our conversation about resilience. His promise of support.
Each memory is a painful contrast to the suffocating silence of my phone.
I find a parking spot on the quiet street bordering the Capitol grounds. Cutting the engine, I sit for a moment, staring at the magnificent building. Its floodlit granite seeming to hold secrets in its shadows.
My gaze travels upwards, past the soaring columns and intricate carvings, settling on the golden statue perched high atop the massive dome. She stands tall and resolute against the velvet black sky, her right arm raised high, pointing firmly forward.
Forward, Matthew had said.
Right now, all I feel is stuck.
Getting out of the car, I scan the curb where we found him before…
There it is.
The cheerful red truck. Lights still blaze from the serving window and along its roofline, casting an inviting pool of light onto the pavement. A thin plume of steam escapes its vent, carrying the rich, undeniable scent of perfectly seasoned grilled beef.
My stomach gives an answering rumble.
When did I last eat properly?
I walk towards the truck, its generator humming low in the night air, the sizzle from the grill becoming more pronounced.
It feels different approaching it alone.
Last time, I was wrapped in Matthew’s blazer, buoyed by wine and a tiny spark of hope.
Tonight, I’m adrift.
Exhausted, heartsick, wearing the same clothes I started the day in.
I reach the counter, pausing just outside the direct light. Inside, I see Sal wiping down a surface, his back to me.
Steeling myself, I step up to the ledge. “Hello, Sal.” My voice is weaker than I expected, barely a croak.
Sal turns, cloth in hand. His eyes land on me, and instant recognition lights up his weathered face. A broad, welcoming smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.
“Hey, hey! I remember you!” His voice booms, full of genuine warmth. “Matty’s girl!”
“Amy.” My meek correction goes unheard.
“What a nice surprise!” He drops the cloth onto the counter, leaning closer.
His gaze sharpens, sweeping over me. “How are you doing?” The booming warmth tempers, replaced by a quieter, assessing tone. “Everything good?”
The shift makes my stomach flutter nervously.
“Yes!” I reply a little too brightly.
Sal nods slowly. His friendly smile returns, but it doesn’t quite reach its full wattage this time. It’s now tinged with curiosity.
“Looks like you can use one of my burgers, sí?” he asks after a thoughtful pause.
“Guilty.” I raise both hands in defeat.
Sal chuckles, though his eyes remain observant.
“You know what?” he starts. “Angie’s out late tonight.
Girls’ night.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly.
“And I haven’t eaten yet. Why don’t you come on up here?
” He points to the steps with a decisive nod.
“Keep an old man company. Let’s eat inside where it’s warm. My treat.”
“No, Sal, honestly. I couldn’t trouble you like—”
“Porfa, chica, it’s no trouble at all!” He leans even closer conspiratorially, voice dropping. “You’ll be doing me the favor. Honest. Hate eating alone.” He moves toward the back. “Come on. This way.”
I give a weary nod and walk around to the side of the red truck. I climb the metal steps toward the narrow door Sal has propped open. The warmth hits me, followed by the rich, savory scent of beef.
“Okay, but you have to put me to work,” I say, stepping inside.
Sal throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh that fills the compact space. “Put you to work?” He eyes me up and down with amusement. “But you are a lady and I am a gentleman.”
My giggle softens into a smile. “Tonight, we are friends making burgers.”
“Alright, jefa,” he lets out a hearty chuckle, “you got it.”
“I already have a couple patties on.” He gestures with his spatula toward the flat-top grill further down the truck. “Figured it was time to eat before I shut down for the night. Made an extra one just in case.” He gives me a friendly wink.
“Thank you.” My smile grows.
He nods. “órale, keep an eye on these beauties for me, maybe give ’em a flip when they look ready? Think you can handle that?” he asks, a teasing glint in his eye.
“I run a whole café. Pretty sure I can handle a couple of burgers.”
Laughter bursts out of him as he shakes a finger at me. “?Picante! I can see why Matty likes you.”
Not anymore he doesn’t, I think bitterly, moving down the narrow space between the counters toward the welcome heat and mouth-watering sizzle radiating from the grill.
“You can have my apron. We don’t want grease splattering that nice sweater,” he says, untying the strings of his faded black apron.
“No need, thank you,” I reply quickly, holding up my hand. “I’ll be careful. Don’t worry.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Alright,” he shrugs easily. “I’ll get some fries going for us.”
He moves to the fridge, pulling out a bag of hand-cut fries and tipping a generous amount into the deep-fryer basket. He lowers it into the hot oil with a practiced hand. The immediate sizzle and pop join the steady hiss from the flat-top grill where I stand.
The air inside the truck grows thick with the tantalizing scents of grilling beef and frying potatoes. For a moment, focusing only on the two patties browning before me, the world outside feels blessedly distant.
Beside me, Sal moves with ease, humming a tune as he checks the temperature gauge on the fryer.
“Looking good, jefa,” he says, glancing over at the patties. “Ready for a flip, I think. Nice and easy now.”
Nodding, I slide the spatula carefully under the edge of the first patty. I flip it over smoothly, revealing a perfectly seared, dark brown crust. I do the same with the second.
“A natural,” Sal declares, shaking the fryer basket gently. “Way better than Matty the first time he worked here. Nearly sent a patty flying straight out the window, that one.” He laughs fondly at the memory.
I laugh despite myself at the image of a younger, less composed Matthew flipping burgers and almost flinging one out the window. “Matthew actually worked here?”
“Oh yeah,” Sal confirms, expertly lifting the basket of golden fries, letting them drain over the hot oil.
“Helped me out a lot back in the day. Good kid. Hard worker.” He dumps the fries onto a paper-towel-lined tray with a satisfying rustle, shaking them lightly.
“Bueno, these beauties are done.” He points his tongs at me.
“And I think your burgers are just about perfect too. Dinner is served, chica!”
With swift, practiced movements, he turns off the grill and the fryer. He grabs two paper-lined cardboard boxes and slides the perfectly cooked patties onto fresh buns.
“?Queso?” he asks, pulling a slice of cheese out of its packaging.
“Not for me, thanks.”
“Just like my wife,” he says, adding the cheese to his burger. “She doesn’t like cheese on her burger. Says it ruins the taste of the meat. She’s very particular. But hey, that’s my Angie.”
“You really love her,” I say with a soft smile.
“Oh, I’m a very lucky man,” he declares, wiping his hands on a towel.
The undisguised contentment on his face is so genuine it sends an unexpected pang right through my chest.
Lucky, indeed.
A love like that feels like a universe away.
Sal reaches under the counter near the serving window and pulls out two low metal stools with round, padded tops.
He sets them side-by-side, facing the main prep counter. “Best seats in the house.”
As I slide onto the surprisingly comfortable stool, he grabs two soda cans from the fridge and hands one to me. “I hope you like Pepsi. It’s all I have left for today.”
“It’s perfect, thank you,” I reply, popping it open.
He settles onto the stool next to me and pops his own open. “Salud y buen provecho,” he says, raising his can.
“Salud,” I echo, clinking my can with his.
“We make a pretty good team,” he tells me after taking a swig.
I take a gulp of soda and nod, offering a sincere smile. “Thank you for all this. It’s very kind of you.”
Sal waves a hand dismissively, but his eyes are warm. “De nada, de nada. Happy for the company.”
His kind reply brings a genuine smile to my face before I turn my full attention to the food.
The smell alone is restorative.
Smoky grilled meat, salty fries…
The aroma is so potent it makes my stomach clench with hunger. A hunger so deep I hadn’t even registered it until now.
I pick up the burger. It feels solid and warm in my hands, the bun yielding softly to the pressure of my fingertips. I take the first bite without hesitating.
Oh. My. God.
Juicy patty, perfectly charred edges, the freshness of the soft bun…
It’s uncomplicated yet deeply satisfying.
I take another bite almost immediately, then reach for a couple of thick-cut, perfectly crisped fries.
They crunch satisfyingly.
I close my eyes for just a second, savoring the simple perfection of hot food after a day fueled by little more than anxiety and strong coffee. This warmth and this simple deliciousness make me feel the most present I’ve felt all day.
“It never gets old seeing someone really enjoying my food,” Sal confesses, popping a few fries into his mouth.
“Best burger I’ve ever had! You must let me pay you for this. It’s my way of saying thank you,” I plead.