I had “served my debt to society”. I know logically what that means and how it’s intended. Too bad the actuality of how society sees it doesn’t align with the intention. Like a dog that bites once, I’m never to be trusted again. Only it’s unethical to euthanize humans when there may be the same factors at play. Provocation, fear, self-defense. Those can get a human a sentence that doesn’t end in death. So I guess I’m luckier than the dog.

But I’m still not to be trusted. Society doesn’t want me back. They’ve made that perfectly clear. A couple of friends kept in touch over the years but still keep their distance. A chat or a text message. A phone call and lunch at a greasy diner. Have I really earned my way back into civilization? Or does everyone assume I’m just out for a jaunt before I succumb to another episode.

The camper van I had traded my truck for leaned a bit sideways in the parking lot. It was downright luxurious compared to what I had gotten used to. Having my own space had been unnerving at first. The first night I had parked it next to my sister’s barn and could hear nothing but nighttime sounds outside. I hadn’t slept a wink. I’d turned to playing music at night after that. Not having hundreds of other people and their noises around was taking more adjustment than I realized.

This was the 2nd week I’d been scoping out possible jobs. I was coming down to the wire. My release wasn’t dependent on gainful employment but my livelihood would be. And so far, Society had made it clear that my “debt” was paid but still on my credit report. Even in my podunk backwater hometown, it seemed I was considered a risky investment. Reliable transportation- check. Clean drug screen- check. References- check. Clean background- stop the presses.

I sat in the van for a minute longer in the lot and then steeled myself to go in. One more rejection can’t hurt. I’ve heard apologetic no’s. I’ve heard vehement no’s. I’ve heard indirect no’s. I’ve heard excuses being used as no’s. It was becoming an art form.

The donut shop was warm and humid. The insides of the windows covered in moisture making it hard to see inside. It was deserted except for a couple of retirees near the register. “Hey, Vic! You got a customer!”, one of them called to the back.

A middle aged guy was wiping his hands as he came out of the kitchen. He barely looked at the two at the counter. Vic gazed over at me. It was a strange feeling. It had an empty feeling to it. Like he had nothing invested in it. He felt distant even though he was no more than 5 feet away. Maybe Society had failed to realize his debt was paid too.

“I stopped by to see if you were in need of help. I’m looking to pick up a job. I’ve got references and I’ve worked a couple kitchens.” I got straight to the point. No sense beating around the bush and taking up his time.

Vic gave me another up and down look. “What hours you trying to work?”

“Anything you need, sir.” I’m bracing myself. “My schedule is wide open. I’ve got references, live just out of town with my sister. Transportation isn’t an issue.” I pause and glance at the old-timers sipping their coffee and listening to us. “I’m looking for a second chance. I didn’t use my first one the best. I’m going to make a better go of it this time. Just to make sure I’m being up front with you before I use anymore of your time.”

Vic again just watched me. He leaned a hip against the counter and stared for a long while. I shifted my weight. Something about his inspection was off-putting. “How many places have you applied to?”, he asks.

“Most of the stores and restaurants here in town. And the cabinet factory. I’ve had to have talked to 20 places or more.”

He frowned. This was it. The no was coming. I wondered what kind of no it would be. I was betting a direct one. Vic didn’t seem like he had much concern for anyone else’s feelings. “Was it drugs? Or domestic? I have some things I won’t tolerate. No matter what your justice system declares.”

I blink. “No, sir. It was a manslaughter charge. A fight that went sideways, badly.”

“Did you start it?”

I swalllowed. “No. But I could’ve handled it better. I’ve had plenty of time to look back at where it all went wrong.”

He stared silently again. He really is disconcerting. The two guys had begun mumbling to themselves and their donuts. He flicked a look at them. “I can use the help. It’s just me and a couple of cashiers. You’d be learning how to make donuts and work the kitchen side. Does this seem like a problem?”

My knees wobbled in relief. “No, sir. I pick up quick. When would you like me to start?”

“Be here tomorrow at 8pm to get the formal paperwork done. You’ll be working the night shift and prepping for the morning rush.”

“Thank you for the opportunity. My name is Jared, by the way. Jared Hawthorne. I’ll be here.” I extended a hand to shake his but he’d allready stepped back towards the kitchen.

Vic raised an eyebrow at my offered hand. “Cathy will be the cashier on duty. Tell he who you are when you get here and she’ll get you started until I arrive.”