That Peaceful Summer Night 

L.F. Armitage

A bug zapper crackled, disturbing the cicada-hum of that peaceful summer night. A car rolled in and made the bell within the gas station ring which did not disturb the man behind the counter who slept peacefully leant against the window of the store. The man in the red station wagon stepped out and began to fill his car. Checking the attendant was in fact asleep, the man took out a cigarette and lit it with a flip-lighter then stared out at the woods around the gas station as the pump whirred and vibrated in his hand. He took a draw of the cigarette and put the pump back into the fuel dispenser where the man noticed an old-style, scratched up metal sign that read: “DO NOT SMOKE AROUND THE PUMPS” in faded typography. The man smiled to himself and stepped out of the way of the pumps, off of the dirt road by the gas station and onto the edge of the woods surrounding the place.

The man was named Terry, and this was not the first time he had stopped at a gas station on a warm, peaceful summer night such as the one he stood smoking into. He looked up at the night sky, the moon was beginning it’s slow-descent down now that it had reached its highest point and pin-prick-nickel-stars glittered, the moon remained an unflinchingly pearl-white circle. Terry thought of his father and the nights they had spent looking at the stars on his childhood home’s roof; they spoke about life, fishing, girls, his parents’ pending divorce… how relevant those conversations became as time went on. Taking a final draw, Terry flicked the cigarette into the woods and stepped back into that dirty-orange aura of the gas station to pay — he wondered if he had enough to pay and took his wallet out of his pocket; he opened it wide.

A dull nickel looked back at Terry from within the barren, leather pocket of the wallet. Rooting around, there was nothing else in the wallet save a few expired and unused credit cards and a small worn photo of Terry, his wife and their two kids: Terry Jr. and David. Giving the attendant asleep behind the counter another quick glance, Terry took out the nickel and spotted a phone box behind the gas station. Eyeing the dull coin thoughtfully, Terry went over to the phone box, inserted the coin and dialed a number: His home phone number.

“Clinton residence,” came a young voice, tinny through the phone, “who is speaking?”
“What’re you doing up this late?” Terry questioned the voice, who he realised was his youngest son, David. There was silence for a moment. the gentle cicada-hum from outside of the phone box began to seep in when the voice came again impertinently:
“Mom’s out again and Terry’s upstairs with his girlfriend.”
“Dammit, kid… ” Terry said half to himself as he breathed out, “You should turn off whatever you’re watching and get into bed, young man. It’s midnight.”
“One-thirty.” David said, equally as docile as before his father told him to go to bed. Terry smiled to himself and scratched his temple.
“All the more reason to go to bed. You okay though, kiddo?”
“Yes, Daddy. How was your interview?”
“Better than last time that’s for sure. It’s a bit far away but if I can get the car fixed we won’t have to move-“
“I don’t want to move Daddy,” David said, almost accusingly.
“We won’t, don’t worry.” A silence came sharply over the two, The cicadas began to grow loud in Terry’s ears, like some chorus of crescendoing accusatory and tiny conflicts within his mind. “All right, get to bed as soon as I hang up now, David, I’ll be back in the morning. Looks like it’ll be pancakes for breakfast tomorrow – just like mom’s.”
“Okay Daddy, see you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you more, kiddo.”

He waited for his child to hang up first. Terry stood in the phone box for a moment and breathed in then slammed the phone onto the hook a few times. Leaving the phone to hang on its wire, Terry stepped out of the phone box and looked back up at the night sky. It was not the first time his wife had ‘gone out’ for the night. Terry looked up at the moon and the moon seemed to look back. Why did I stay with her? He thought to himself, then he thought of Junior and David and remembered why. After some more introspection, Terry got back into his red station wagon and scrunched his hands over his steering wheel. Terry tried to think happy thoughts but he ended up thinking about burning his house down, collecting the insurance money for the house and his wife then riding off into the sunset with the kids and their dog Milly. The thought made him smile. The station wagon started up, spluttered and popped then drove off into the darkness. The bug zapper crackled and the cicadas hummed into that peaceful summer night.

photo US Environmental Protection Agency