Tears at the Drive-Through Window

Because You’ve Come This Far

Last night at a fast food joint, I was ordering something simple for Meli, our pup. It’s not ideal, but while on the road, sometimes choices are sparse.

When I pulled up to the drive-through, no one answered. Gently, I said hello. A voice came through, anxious and sincere:

“I’m sorry, sir, we are only two people. Can you give me a second?” Her voice trembled with exhaustion.

At the window, a young girl, probably still in high school, apologized as if she had committed a crime. She was running the late-night shift with just one cook, and her eyes gave away her overwhelm.

I reassured her:

“Don’t worry. I’m in no rush. Take your time.”

She asked me to park, and when she brought my food out, I looked at her and asked softly, with the concern that has grown since becoming a father:

“Honey, are you okay?”

She broke down in tears. “There are just so many orders. I’m overwhelmed and doing so badly.”

I reached out. She placed her palms on mine, and I covered them with my other hand. Dark and cold, a Midwestern late-summer mist found us, the neon lights our only refuge in sight.