Begging for Quarters

Stranded
By Dionne N. Burks

It’s just been one of those days. I should have known today was going to hell when I got into my car and Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” was playing. If that isn’t a signal that the ship is going down, I don’t know what is.

Right now I’m standing in the middle of my favorite grocery store with no idea where my car keys are. My heart hasn’t stopped pounding. I don’t have a spare anywhere and if I don’t get home by 8:00, I’m going to miss the last episode of Friends. Time is of the essence here! I’ve been running in circles for the last hour trying to walk through all of my steps.

I remember locking my car door. I had my keys in my hand because it was going to be a short trip. I walked through the sliding doors, and noticed that Kraft’s Velveeta was on sale for $3.89. I picked up a red basket. No, I went to the deli to buy myself a dinner first, and then decided that I might as well go shopping now to save myself time later and that’s when I got the red basket.

I picked up some apples and caramel dip for my new diet. Walked past the cheese section, and then came back to it when I remembered that Velveeta was on sale. I checked off my grocery list one by one, but I didn’t do it in order. No, that would be too easy. Thanks to A.D.D., I randomly walked down the aisles until I remembered something that was on my list.

So after my basket was full, I paid for my groceries. On the way out, I saw the novelty machines in the front and for some reason I was hit with a sudden case of nostalgia. I used my precious laundry quarter to buy a gold ring out of the machine.

I put it on my pinkie finger, and remembered the good ‘ol times when Tommy Jenkins gave me one when we were in elementary school. It came with a note that said “Will You Go Out With Me? Check Yes or No.” I checked Yes, and we dated for two whole days until he gave Melissa Peters one and broke my heart.

So right after that, I went to get a gallon of ice-cream because I was depressed that the same scenario was still happening to me even though I’m a sophomore in college.

And yes, here are my keys! In the ice-cream section, right behind the Rocky Road. Hmm, I should probably pick up a carton of that, too.

Fleeting Pleasures
By Megan Graney

“Mommy, can I have a quarter?” I tug on her skirt.

“For what, honey?” Mommy says, putting a can of green beans in the cart.

“I want one of those rings from the machine.”

“Every time we come to the store, you ask for one of those, and what do I tell you every time?”

“You tell me no,” I say, kicking at a stack of Cheerios.

“That’s right. Jess, you know that after you get it, you’ll be tired of it five minutes later. Besides, those rings will just turn your fingers green. Now what kind of soup do you want for lunch?” she asks, looking over the familiar red and white labels.

I ignore her, hoping if I pout long enough, she’ll give me a quarter.

But she ignores my pouting. “Tomato, then. And how about grilled cheese…” Mommy’s cell phone rings. I look up eagerly—maybe it would be Daddy. I love talking to Daddy on the phone.

But it must not be Daddy, because when Mommy answers the phone, she doesn’t even say hello. Instead, she says, “I thought I told you not to call me today. I’m spending the day with my daughter, not you.”

Darn. I wanted to talk to Daddy. He hasn’t been home much lately, and I miss him. He is never home for dinner, and he is too tired to read me stories before bedtime. And he and Mommy fight a lot when they think I’m sleeping. She misses him, too, and she wants him to spend more time at home.

I look up at Mommy to ask her if we could make Daddy’s favorite dinner tonight, but she is still on her phone, and she looks angry. Her face is all red, like it was the day I broke her favorite picture frame, the one with her and Daddy’s wedding picture in it. She looks like she might cry.

Now is my chance—she is too upset about her phone call to think about anything else. “Mommy, can I have a quarter?” I ask in my sweetest voice.

“What? Sure, yeah, here you go,” she says, digging a coin out of her purse. I grab the coin from her hand and run to the front of the store.

There, right inside the sliding doors, is the ring machine. It’s filled with little plastic balls, and inside each ball is a little gold ring. I’ve wanted one of those rings for as long as I can remember—they are so shiny and will look so pretty on my left hand. Just like Mommy’s ring.

I put my quarter in the machine and turn the knob. The little plastic balls move and one magically appears. I lift the little door and pull out the plastic ball. I tear off the lid and throw it away. Finally, I have the ring I’ve always wanted. I put it on my left hand. I was right—the ring really does look pretty, and it sparkles and shines like Mommy’s.

I run back to show Mommy my ring. She is still in the soup aisle, looking at those same red and white labels. Her eye makeup is running down her cheeks like she’s been crying.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” I ask.

“What? Oh, nothing, honey. Mommy’s friend just told her he can’t play with her anymore.” She wipes her cheeks with a Kleenex from her purse.

“Oh. Okay. Look at my new ring!” I proudly hold up my hand.

“Jess,” Mommy says, looking at my hand. “I told you those things would just turn your fingers green. Look.”

She’s right. My finger is all green from the ring. I take it off and hand it to Mommy. She will throw it away when we leave the store.

“Maybe next time you’ll listen to your mother,” Mommy says. “All pleasure is fleeting.”

Automatic Doors
By Aaron Konigsmark

Every time I go to the grocery store I have to stare at my trendy glasses and dated clothes (just because I can’t get rid of them) in the reflection of the automatic doors. They’re not to be trusted, but I have to get in somehow. Automatic doors should spring open with me, matching the quickness of my step. They should not interrupt my path and show me the reflection I don’t want to see.

There they are, the novelty machines, right inside the doors. My grocery store ritual. For just one quarter, I can have gumballs, a sticky hand, stickers, some kind of cards with Japanese animation animals on them, those new mini-mugs of The Simpson’s, or a ring. I got one every time I came here. I remember how she used to get quarters out of me, always using her baby voice and sometimes pulling her hair back into pig-tails. This was her favorite way to embarrass me, but I played along.

“No quarter! You just spend it on junk anyway,” I said.

“But, baby…”

“It can never be enough for you.”

“I’ll give you a hug.”

“Stop.”

“Ben, I’ll give you a kiss.”

Mary could always get a quarter out of me. Who could refuse a kiss from such a beauty, especially when she wore white outside a black outfit after Labor Day?

The lessons and rules of your old life shift when you move out on your own. I lost a lot when I looked into Mary’s eyes. She could make me walk to Mars vertically. Mars was where it felt like I fell from when she left.

She is why I buy the rings. For a quarter, I can reclaim the memories that forever stay right at the surface of my mind. When I realize that they’re memories, I feel a little more stuck inside myself.

Today’s ring is gold; its pattern oddly reminds me of the ring I would have bought her. There is more chintz than I would want, but she probably would have liked this ring better. That made me smile.

I move on to the ice cream aisle. I can look but not touch; I know how bad it is for me. It still drives me crazy to do it, but I have to see the new flavors and remember what the old ones taste like. That’s when I looked up and saw her.

“Mar—.” I put my hands over my mouth. Thank God, she didn’t look at me. Running out of that aisle, I turn the event over in my head. No, is that her? Shit, she’s with a guy. I knew this would happen. I should have never moved to the same city as her.

I reach into my pocket and find the ring. Comfort. My mind races, looking for what to do. Wait, she still has a hold on me. I thought this move would be easy. I could settle down in a town to call my own, but I still have you to contend with, Mary.

The ice cream aisle is empty. She’s in the next aisle over. As I start to approach her, her guy friend turns the aisle. I have to talk with her to ease my own mind. I didn’t think I would be as affected as I am. A year and a half hasn’t healed me as much as I thought. Three steps to go. The hair is right but the nose is a little too pug. It’s not her.

“Excuse me, miss, I think you dropped this.” I hand her the ring.

“Oh, that’s not mine. It might be that little girl’s, though.”

“Could you see if it fits?” She looks at me with surprise and, hopefully, notices the sincerity on my face.

“It fits on my pinkie.” She hands it back to me and I push her hand back to her.

“You keep it. It looks better on you than it would on me. Thank you.”

I walk out the automatic doors and, for once, we are going at the same speed. The ice cream in the bag brushes against my leg, making me shiver as I leave the store.

	Begging for Quarters Dionne N. Burks, Megan Graney, Aaron Konigsmark
	As Fate Would Have It Split Proposal Heat Wave The Price of... Begging for Quarters Return to Intro Page	Stranded By Dionne N. Burks It’s just been one of those days. I should have known today was going to hell when I got into my car and Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” was playing. If that isn’t a signal that the ship is going down, I don’t know what is. Right now I’m standing in the middle of my favorite grocery store with no idea where my car keys are. My heart hasn’t stopped pounding. I don’t have a spare anywhere and if I don’t get home by 8:00, I’m going to miss the last episode of Friends. Time is of the essence here! I’ve been running in circles for the last hour trying to walk through all of my steps. I remember locking my car door. I had my keys in my hand because it was going to be a short trip. I walked through the sliding doors, and noticed that Kraft’s Velveeta was on sale for $3.89. I picked up a red basket. No, I went to the deli to buy myself a dinner first, and then decided that I might as well go shopping now to save myself time later and that’s when I got the red basket. I picked up some apples and caramel dip for my new diet. Walked past the cheese section, and then came back to it when I remembered that Velveeta was on sale. I checked off my grocery list one by one, but I didn’t do it in order. No, that would be too easy. Thanks to A.D.D., I randomly walked down the aisles until I remembered something that was on my list. So after my basket was full, I paid for my groceries. On the way out, I saw the novelty machines in the front and for some reason I was hit with a sudden case of nostalgia. I used my precious laundry quarter to buy a gold ring out of the machine. I put it on my pinkie finger, and remembered the good ‘ol times when Tommy Jenkins gave me one when we were in elementary school. It came with a note that said “Will You Go Out With Me? Check Yes or No.” I checked Yes, and we dated for two whole days until he gave Melissa Peters one and broke my heart. So right after that, I went to get a gallon of ice-cream because I was depressed that the same scenario was still happening to me even though I’m a sophomore in college. And yes, here are my keys! In the ice-cream section, right behind the Rocky Road. Hmm, I should probably pick up a carton of that, too. Fleeting Pleasures By Megan Graney “Mommy, can I have a quarter?” I tug on her skirt. “For what, honey?” Mommy says, putting a can of green beans in the cart. “I want one of those rings from the machine.” “Every time we come to the store, you ask for one of those, and what do I tell you every time?” “You tell me no,” I say, kicking at a stack of Cheerios. “That’s right. Jess, you know that after you get it, you’ll be tired of it five minutes later. Besides, those rings will just turn your fingers green. Now what kind of soup do you want for lunch?” she asks, looking over the familiar red and white labels. I ignore her, hoping if I pout long enough, she’ll give me a quarter. But she ignores my pouting. “Tomato, then. And how about grilled cheese…” Mommy’s cell phone rings. I look up eagerly—maybe it would be Daddy. I love talking to Daddy on the phone. But it must not be Daddy, because when Mommy answers the phone, she doesn’t even say hello. Instead, she says, “I thought I told you not to call me today. I’m spending the day with my daughter, not you.” Darn. I wanted to talk to Daddy. He hasn’t been home much lately, and I miss him. He is never home for dinner, and he is too tired to read me stories before bedtime. And he and Mommy fight a lot when they think I’m sleeping. She misses him, too, and she wants him to spend more time at home. I look up at Mommy to ask her if we could make Daddy’s favorite dinner tonight, but she is still on her phone, and she looks angry. Her face is all red, like it was the day I broke her favorite picture frame, the one with her and Daddy’s wedding picture in it. She looks like she might cry. Now is my chance—she is too upset about her phone call to think about anything else. “Mommy, can I have a quarter?” I ask in my sweetest voice. “What? Sure, yeah, here you go,” she says, digging a coin out of her purse. I grab the coin from her hand and run to the front of the store. There, right inside the sliding doors, is the ring machine. It’s filled with little plastic balls, and inside each ball is a little gold ring. I’ve wanted one of those rings for as long as I can remember—they are so shiny and will look so pretty on my left hand. Just like Mommy’s ring. I put my quarter in the machine and turn the knob. The little plastic balls move and one magically appears. I lift the little door and pull out the plastic ball. I tear off the lid and throw it away. Finally, I have the ring I’ve always wanted. I put it on my left hand. I was right—the ring really does look pretty, and it sparkles and shines like Mommy’s. I run back to show Mommy my ring. She is still in the soup aisle, looking at those same red and white labels. Her eye makeup is running down her cheeks like she’s been crying. “What’s wrong, Mommy?” I ask. “What? Oh, nothing, honey. Mommy’s friend just told her he can’t play with her anymore.” She wipes her cheeks with a Kleenex from her purse. “Oh. Okay. Look at my new ring!” I proudly hold up my hand. “Jess,” Mommy says, looking at my hand. “I told you those things would just turn your fingers green. Look.” She’s right. My finger is all green from the ring. I take it off and hand it to Mommy. She will throw it away when we leave the store. “Maybe next time you’ll listen to your mother,” Mommy says. “All pleasure is fleeting.” Automatic Doors By Aaron Konigsmark Every time I go to the grocery store I have to stare at my trendy glasses and dated clothes (just because I can’t get rid of them) in the reflection of the automatic doors. They’re not to be trusted, but I have to get in somehow. Automatic doors should spring open with me, matching the quickness of my step. They should not interrupt my path and show me the reflection I don’t want to see. There they are, the novelty machines, right inside the doors. My grocery store ritual. For just one quarter, I can have gumballs, a sticky hand, stickers, some kind of cards with Japanese animation animals on them, those new mini-mugs of The Simpson’s, or a ring. I got one every time I came here. I remember how she used to get quarters out of me, always using her baby voice and sometimes pulling her hair back into pig-tails. This was her favorite way to embarrass me, but I played along. “No quarter! You just spend it on junk anyway,” I said. “But, baby…” “It can never be enough for you.” “I’ll give you a hug.” “Stop.” “Ben, I’ll give you a kiss.” Mary could always get a quarter out of me. Who could refuse a kiss from such a beauty, especially when she wore white outside a black outfit after Labor Day? The lessons and rules of your old life shift when you move out on your own. I lost a lot when I looked into Mary’s eyes. She could make me walk to Mars vertically. Mars was where it felt like I fell from when she left. She is why I buy the rings. For a quarter, I can reclaim the memories that forever stay right at the surface of my mind. When I realize that they’re memories, I feel a little more stuck inside myself. Today’s ring is gold; its pattern oddly reminds me of the ring I would have bought her. There is more chintz than I would want, but she probably would have liked this ring better. That made me smile. I move on to the ice cream aisle. I can look but not touch; I know how bad it is for me. It still drives me crazy to do it, but I have to see the new flavors and remember what the old ones taste like. That’s when I looked up and saw her. “Mar—.” I put my hands over my mouth. Thank God, she didn’t look at me. Running out of that aisle, I turn the event over in my head. No, is that her? Shit, she’s with a guy. I knew this would happen. I should have never moved to the same city as her. I reach into my pocket and find the ring. Comfort. My mind races, looking for what to do. Wait, she still has a hold on me. I thought this move would be easy. I could settle down in a town to call my own, but I still have you to contend with, Mary. The ice cream aisle is empty. She’s in the next aisle over. As I start to approach her, her guy friend turns the aisle. I have to talk with her to ease my own mind. I didn’t think I would be as affected as I am. A year and a half hasn’t healed me as much as I thought. Three steps to go. The hair is right but the nose is a little too pug. It’s not her. “Excuse me, miss, I think you dropped this.” I hand her the ring. “Oh, that’s not mine. It might be that little girl’s, though.” “Could you see if it fits?” She looks at me with surprise and, hopefully, notices the sincerity on my face. “It fits on my pinkie.” She hands it back to me and I push her hand back to her. “You keep it. It looks better on you than it would on me. Thank you.” I walk out the automatic doors and, for once, we are going at the same speed. The ice cream in the bag brushes against my leg, making me shiver as I leave the store. Comments for the Authors?