Dodo Eggs

There’s a dent in the left, rear quarter panel of my car.  It’s about one and a half inches long running vertical not far from the lid to my gas tank.  The paint has held up a pretty strong shine considering I wipe it over with a fresh coat of resentment everyday.

My car hasn’t really complained.  In fact, it’s been paid off for so long it takes dents for the team.  I bothered to carry full coverage on it until the day after a hailstorm came through and “massaged” it a bit.  I live with, almost smile at those dents. 

But that singular dent on my rear panel vexes me like a broken splinter. 

A man named Angelo put it there.  This man has an advantage over me for I am sure he has forgotten about me.  And yet, he poisons my attitude a bit each time I see his ugly mug reflected from the crease he put into my car.

After college, I minded tables at the restaurant of two brothers and a sister.  The establishment was a starched shirt, mind your posture, underwear too tight restaurant in the Memphis area.  Those who ate there had either had too much money or no sense on how to spend it.  Drinks, entrée, desert, and tip for one person would take a fifty dollar bill.  There was no kiddy menu and if you asked for a high chair the toddler sat on a stack of menus instead. 

Angelo had married the sister and was considered one of the owners.  He was smart enough to marry money and he knew the best way to work out those infantile calluses was to take as many vacations as possible.  His vision was cast as a scowl; frozen into place from the three backbreaking days he worked each week.

I was setting my tables before lunch one morning when Angelo’s expensive luxury vehicle pulled in next to my small, blue car.  He walked around to his rear passenger door and tossed it open to retrieve his briefcase.  His door flew into my car leaving the dent that speaks to me almost everyday.

I watched Angelo stare at my car for a moment then dismissthe matter.  He turned and strolled inside the restaurant.  I couldn’t see from the restaurant window if there was any damage.  I don’t know if I would have said anything even if I knew.

A few minutes later he appeared in the dinning room to grace us with one of his “inspecting the mules” looks.  Based wholly on the way he treated us, the wait staff were simple animals pulling his chuck-wagon to the bank.  He continually barked orders and lashed at the reigns. 

When I run my fingers over the dent, it’s jealousy that sticks to them.  I try to rub it off on my soul where it intensifies into resentment.

With a shrug and a deep breath, I reach for the car door. 

Angelo still distracts me from the many blessings I enjoy.  I realize that it’s gratitude that should be the most powerful force in my heart.  Especially when you consider that I no longer work for the man.

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