TumbleDweeeb

Another Night at Chill n’Fill: Love, Loss, and Labor

   It was Friday night at Chill n’Fill, out here where the darkness stretched for miles in every direction and our mechanically-winking polar bear served as the only beacon of civilization for truckers, night shift workers, and the occasional lost soul who’d wandered too far from the interstate. I was two hours into my shift when the first customer of the evening arrived, and I had no idea how dramatically the night was about to unfold.
   Bob had dressed our massive 20-foot polar bear in his latest creation: “Romantic Bear,” complete with a red bow tie, a heart-shaped patch over his good eye (leaving only the mechanical “Cheinco 1957” trash can lid to do the winking), and what appeared to be a bouquet of plastic roses duct-taped to his paw. The mechanical eye performed its endless rhythm while Christmas lights underneath made the vintage marking pulse like a beacon of heartbreak and hope across the empty fields.
   Inside, Bob’s Cultural Enhancement Gallery was displaying this week’s love theme: reproductions of romantic paintings alongside his “Growth Chronicles,” showing the bear’s transformation from accident victim to mechanical matchmaker.
   The radio was playing “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood when the automatic doors slid open to reveal a young woman in her mid-twenties with the kind of natural beauty that didn’t need much effort, blonde hair, genuine smile, and the slightly tired expression of someone who’d been working all day but still managed to look put-together.
   She moved through the store with purpose, heading straight to our vape display case near the counter. “Hi there,” she said with a friendly smile, “I’m looking for something that actually tastes good. I’ve been trying different flavors but they all seem to taste like chemicals.”
     “What kinds of flavors do you usually like?” I asked, unlocking the display case. “Sweet, fruity, minty?”
       “Maybe something fruity? I tried a strawberry one that was awful, but I’m hoping there might be something better,” she said, examining the options.
   I was showing her a few different fruit-flavored options when the automatic doors opened again, and a man in his late twenties walked in. He was decent-looking, wearing jeans and a work shirt, with the kind of casual confidence that suggested he was used to being noticed.
       “Hey April,” he said with a smile that seemed friendly enough.
     “Oh, hi Andrew,” she replied, her tone polite but noticeably cooler than her conversation with me had been.
   He headed toward the automotive section while April and I continued discussing vape flavors. She settled on a peach-flavored one, and I was ringing her up when Andrew approached the counter with a quart of motor oil and a Coca-Cola.
      “Working late again?” Andrew asked April, making what seemed like casual small talk.
    “Yeah, picking up an extra shift,” she replied shortly.
      “That’ll be $8.47 for you,” I said to April, “and $6.23 for the oil and Coke,” I added to Andrew.
   As Andrew paid, April seemed to be wrestling with something, then apparently decided to speak her mind.
   “You know, Andrew,” she said, her voice taking on an edge, “I thought we were close. I thought we had something real building between us. But I guess my sister gave you what you wanted faster than I was willing to.”
   Andrew’s face reddened slightly. “April, it wasn’t like that”
      “Oh, it wasn’t?” April continued, her voice getting stronger. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you spent months getting to know me, letting me think we were building toward something meaningful, and then you ran off with my sister the minute she made herself available.”
   I found myself in the awkward position of witnessing what was clearly a very personal conversation while trying to finish their transactions professionally.
      “I’m a firm believer in romance, Andrew,” April continued, gathering her items. “Real romance. The kind where you actually get to know someone, where you build something deeper than just physical attraction. But you’re not, are you? You were just looking for the quickest route to what you wanted.”
     “April, that’s not fair.” Andrew started.
      “What’s not fair,” April interrupted, “is wasting months of my time getting to know you, thinking we were developing real feelings for each other, only to watch you jump into bed with my sister after knowing her for what, two weeks?”
   The tension in the store was palpable. Our mechanical bear’s winking seemed almost mocking in the background.
      “And the funny thing is,” April continued, clearly needing to get this all out, “it was a disaster, wasn’t it? Six weeks. That’s how long your great romance with my sister lasted. Six weeks. Because she was just looking for a bed mate, not real love, and you were too shallow to see the difference.”
   Andrew gathered his items quickly, clearly wanting to escape this conversation. “I should go.”
      “Oh, and the best part,” April said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “you two actually asked me for permission to date. Can you believe that? Asked my permission! Like I was some kind of authority figure instead of the woman you’d been supposedly interested in. Why would you even ask permission if what we had meant nothing to you?”
      “April, I…”
     “I’ll tell you why,” she continued, on a roll now. “Because you knew it was wrong. You knew you were throwing away something real for something easy. I think the whole thing was vengeance, honestly. My sister knew I was developing feelings for you, and she couldn’t stand the idea of me finding something meaningful when she was just bouncing from one meaningless hookup to another.”
   Andrew practically fled toward the door. “I’ll see you around, April.”
      “No, you won’t,” she called after him. “Because I’m done wasting my time on people who don’t understand the difference between love and convenience.”
   As the door closed behind Andrew, April turned to me with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. I’ve been holding that in for months.”
      “No need to apologize,” I said. “Sometimes you just need to say what needs to be said.”
     “I just don’t understand people who think romance is dead, you know? Like, why wouldn’t you want to actually get to know someone before jumping into bed with them? What’s the rush?” She shook her head. “Anyway, thanks for the vape recommendation. I hope this one tastes better than that chemical strawberry disaster.”
   As April left, looking somehow lighter despite the emotional confrontation, the radio transitioned to “Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks, setting a completely different tone for our next encounter.
   The country ballad was still playing when the automatic doors slid open to reveal a man in his forties who was clearly having trouble maintaining his balance. He moved through the store with the exaggerated careful movements of someone trying very hard to appear sober and failing completely.
   He went straight to our beer cooler, spending several minutes studying the options before selecting a twelve-pack of cheap beer. When he approached the counter, the smell of alcohol was overwhelming.
      “Good evening, sir,” I said professionally. “I’m going to need to see your ID.”
   He fumbled with his wallet, dropping it twice before managing to extract his license and hand it over. His hands were shaking, and his eyes were bloodshot.
      “Sir, I’m sorry, but I can’t sell you alcohol tonight,” I said, handing his ID back. “You appear to be intoxicated.”
     “What? No, no, I’m fine,” he slurred, swaying slightly. “I just need a few beers to take home.”
       “I understand, but by law, I can’t sell alcohol to someone who’s visibly intoxicated. It’s for your safety and everyone else’s.”
     “Come on, just a few beers. I’m not driving anywhere tonight,” he insisted, though his car keys were clearly visible in his hand.
      “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t make an exception. Is there anything else I can help you with tonight? Coffee, food, water?”
   He stared at me for a long moment, processing my refusal through his alcohol-clouded thinking. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, but he seemed to understand that arguing wasn’t going to change my mind.
      “Fine,” he said, leaving the beer on the counter and heading for the door. “This is ridiculous,” he repeated as he left.
   I watched through the windows to make sure he got in his car safely and wasn’t planning to drive, then called the local police non-emergency line to report a potentially intoxicated driver, giving them his license plate number just in case.
   As his taillights disappeared into the darkness, the radio shifted to something with more energy—P!nk’s “Get the Party Started”…just as our third customer made her entrance.
   The upbeat pop song provided an ironically energetic soundtrack as the automatic doors opened to reveal a woman in her late twenties who was very obviously pregnant and from the way she was moving and breathing, very obviously in distress.
      “Oh honey,” she said, leaning against the door frame, “I think I’m having contractions.”
    I came around the counter immediately. “How far apart are they?”
      “They were about ten minutes apart when I left home, but now…” She paused, gripping the door frame and breathing heavily. “Now they’re maybe five minutes apart. I was trying to get to the hospital, but I don’t think I’m going to make it.”
     “Okay, let me call an ambulance right now,” I said, reaching for the phone. “What’s your name, honey?”
      “Jessica,” she said, slowly making her way to a chair near the counter. “Jessica Murphy. I’m thirty-eight weeks, so the baby’s not early, but this is happening so fast.”
   I dialed 911 while keeping an eye on Jessica. “911, what’s your emergency?”
       “This is Karlee at Chill n’Fill on Highway 78. I have a pregnant woman here who’s in active labor and needs an ambulance immediately.”
    “Is this her first baby?” the dispatcher asked.
      “Jessica, is this your first baby?” I asked.
    “No, my third,” she panted. “And the other two came really fast once labor started.”
   I relayed this information to the dispatcher, who told me an ambulance was on the way but it would be about fifteen minutes due to our remote location.
      “Fifteen minutes,” I told Jessica. “How are you feeling?”
    “Like this baby really wants to meet the world tonight,” she said, managing a weak smile despite the pain. “Oh God, here comes another one.”
   She gripped the sides of the chair and breathed through the contraction. When it passed, she looked up at me with wide eyes.
      “I think my water just broke,” she said quietly.
   I looked down and saw a puddle forming under her chair. For a split second, I thought she’d had an accident, but then I realized what had actually happened.
      “Okay, that’s definitely your water breaking,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm while internally panicking. “That’s normal, that’s what’s supposed to happen.”
     “But the baby’s coming NOW,” Jessica said, her voice rising with panic. “I can feel the baby coming!”
   I grabbed my phone to call 911 back. “This is Karlee at Chill n’Fill again. The woman’s water broke and she says the baby is coming now. We need that ambulance immediately.”
       “The ambulance is eight minutes out,” the dispatcher said. “Is she crowning?”
     “Jessica, can you feel the baby’s head?” I asked, feeling completely out of my depth.
       “Yes! Oh God, yes!” she cried.
    The next few minutes were a blur of 911 dispatcher instructions, Jessica’s labor pains, and me trying to stay calm while preparing for the possibility that I might have to help deliver a baby in a convenience store in the middle of nowhere.
    Fortunately, the ambulance arrived just as Jessica was entering the final stage of labor. The paramedics took over immediately, and within minutes they had her loaded into the ambulance.
      “Thank you so much,” Jessica called out as they were loading her in. “You were so calm. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d panicked.”
     “Good luck, Jessica!” I called back. “Congratulations!”
   As the ambulance disappeared into the night, sirens fading into the darkness, I stood in the store looking at the wet spot on the floor and marveling at what had just happened.
   As I finished my shift and began the shift change routine, I found myself thinking about the three very different encounters with the complexities of human relationships and life I’d witnessed tonight. April’s heartbreak over Andrew’s betrayal and her sister’s sabotage. The drunk man who couldn’t see past his immediate needs to understand why I couldn’t enable his dangerous choices. Jessica, bringing new life into the world in the most unexpected place.
   Three customers, three different stages of human experience, all playing out under the watchful mechanical wink of our romantic-themed polar bear and surrounded by Bob’s gallery of love-themed art.
   I pulled out my phone to text Evan: “Relationship drama night at Chill n’Fill. A customer confronted her ex?? I don’t know, maybe friend? Maybe more? about dumping her for her sister after months of courtship… turns out it was a disaster that lasted 6 weeks. Another customer was too drunk to sell alcohol to, tried to argue but eventually left. And then I had a woman go into labor in the store, water broke on the floor (I thought she’d peed at first), ambulance came just in time. Bob’s romantic bear theme was perfect for a night about love lost, bad decisions, and new life beginning. Just another shift where human drama meets reality under the glow of a mechanically winking trash can lid from 1957.”
   Just another night at Chill n’Fill, where love, loss, and life provided the backdrop for human nature in all its complicated, messy, and miraculous forms. Where a mechanically-winking polar bear made from discarded parts watched over it all, reminding us that sometimes what everyone calls trash becomes the perfect witness to the beautiful chaos of people trying to navigate relationships, make good choices, and bring new life into the world—whether they’re confronting betrayal, struggling with addiction, or delivering babies in convenience stores in the middle of nowhere.
   The bear’s “Cheinco 1957” eye pulsed one final time as I locked up, its Christmas lights glowing across the darkness like a beacon for anyone trying to navigate the complicated terrain of human connection, poor decisions, and life’s most unexpected moments.