One morning, a heavyset man with a bloated face leaned over the counter, pretending to buy a burrito. His thick fingers reached out and stroked the back of my hand.
I slapped his hand away. My expression turned to ice.
"If you're not here to buy food, move."
My voice carried. Every head in the crowd turned.
The man's face swelled an ugly shade of purple, humiliated in front of everyone.
"Stuck-up bitch. Someone offers you a little attention and you spit in their face?"
"You're damaged goods that's already been passed around. What's the big deal if I cop a feel?"
He grabbed the edge of my cart and flipped it.
The crash of metal slamming into pavement exploded in my ears. The scalding griddle smashed against my forearm.
White-hot pain shot through me, instant and blinding, like the skin was being ripped clean off the bone.
The crowd kept growing, every last one of them gawking and whispering about me.
The fat-faced thug's insults grew louder, more vicious, flecks of his spit landing on my face.
"Didn't Reginald used to chase after you? Treated you like a princess, put you on a pedestal? So what happened? He got tired of you already?"
"Bet he slept with you once and realized a woman who's already popped out a kid can't compete with a tight young thing, huh?"
"Who knows, maybe the real reason you divorced your ex-husband is because you were sleeping around. That brat of yours is probably some other man's bastard!"
Every word filthier than the last.
A ringing filled my ears. Everything went red.
By the time I came back to myself, the spatula had already swung in a full arc and cracked across his mouth.
Once.
Twice.
A patrol officer rushed over and pulled me off him, hauling both of us down to the station.
The thug's lips were split and swollen, blood running down his chin. Two of his front teeth were gone.
The female officer handling my statement was sympathetic, but she could only do her job.
"Ms. Walker, the other party's injuries have been classified as minor assault, and he's refusing to sign a settlement agreement."
"You're looking at five days of detention and a five-hundred-dollar fine."
Five days?
But Moira's school sports day was in three days.
She already didn't have a father by her side. I couldn't be absent too.
I drew a deep breath and started dialing the number I once knew by heart.
The door swung open before the call connected.
I hung up. Reginald hurried in.