THE WRAP

A Short Story by Dan Jire

He sat on the median and kept the cardboard sign unfolded. That way he knew people had to read it, had to make the decision to keep staring forward as they stopped to make the turn off Staples Mill Road and onto Hillard.

Don’t you dare look at me.

Henrico County Police had tried often to get Jerry Corman to take a hike, but he was determined to stand his ground. He never made enough for them to get mad at him and besides he wasn’t hurting anybody sitting out there. Unless he died right there and rolled out onto the pavement there wasn’t any way anyone was going to even notice him, they were too busy trying not to. Eyes on the road, eyes on the light, eyes to the right.

Jerry was fine with that.

The weather was nice and he didn’t mind sitting all day hoping for someone to spare a few bucks. If he were in a hurry, he would’ve done it another way. Would’ve gotten the chance to get him down to Virginia Commonwealth University where he could harass some liberal college kids into donating more than just a sandwich.

Of course, the weather was very nice and that meant a lot of cars with windows that suddenly got rolled up when they came to a red light in the turn lane.

Except one window.

Jerry had a feeling it didn’t go up because it was likely jammed. It was probably one of those manual windows that took an Olympian to wind up and down. The old jalopy it belonged to certainly was older than power windows and the woman inside was maybe half that car’s age. She wore a pair of big sunglasses the way most women’s spectacles make windshield superfluous.

She could’ve hidden from God behind those lenses.

She didn’t bother hiding from Jerry. She looked straight at him as her car rattled in place like a bull in the shoot.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

Jerry certainly wouldn’t mind a bite, but he’d prefer change. He slowly turned and gave her a silent nod, like he might be teetering on the brink of passing out.

The woman dug back into her car. Jerry noticed it was packed full of junk. Chances were the light would turn green before she found anything at all. Jerry knew most people didn’t like to give cash because they assumed Jerry would spend it on drugs and booze. They weren’t wrong, they were just assholes for assuming that drugs and booze can’t help him in his plight.

“Gotcha!” The woman whipped back around in the seat. Jerry could see the anticipation in the eyes of the drivers behind her. That light was gonna change any second and the horns were going to come out blazing if this lady didn’t hurry up with her charity for the day.

Jerry stood and reached for the yellow burger wrapper. He knew it before he even took it. It was empty. He was so angry he couldn’t even toss it back at her car. He was just so angry, he had to laugh.

“This is for you,” she said. The light turned green and she took off.

The bitch.

Jerry ruffled through the wrapper…and sure enough there was a warm cheeseburger. No stale bun, no rock-hard cheese, a fresh cheeseburger. Just like he had imagined when he saw the familiar yellow wrapper.

Jerry stuffed his face.

Wished there was another one, and then almost tossed the wrapper away.

But it felt heavier.

Through the folds he noticed: another perfect cheeseburger.

><><

Jerry hated tent cities. He hated it more that like souls had planted themselves beneath a bridge like trolls. There were plenty of places to call home in the city. It took him all of his change to catch the bus into town, and then he had to walk from Broad Street all the way through Byrd Park, down the bike trail to get beneath the Nickel Bridge.

He crossed the train tracks and behind the next concrete pillar began the sad colors of no-choice decorating. Lumps of near-rotting sleeping bags filled with addict couples starting a new death together.

Jerry passed by them all. He was looking for an old friend.

The Doctor, as they all called him, used to be a professor at Virginia Commonwealth University. Something happened and he lost his tenure, his wife, and self-respect. It started as a routine where the Doctor would come to the James River to fish, then he stopped paying rent.

The Doctor could probably find work elsewhere, Jerry was almost certain of that, it was just that the Doctor didn’t want to.

Jerry heard the Doctor hacking as he went around the next set of concrete pillars. The Doctor sat in a patch of dirt, surrounded by weeds. He was gutting a fish on a stack of newspapers.

“Jerry!”

“Doctor.”

“Care for some fish?”

“I already ate,” Jerry said. The Doctor noticed the burger wrapper in his hand, but kept on with his own business. “Actually, I came here because I think something bad happened.”

“Oh?”

“To me,” Jerry added. “I think I’ve lost my damned mind.”

Jerry told the Doctor his story, while fish guts and bones were tossed to the side. When it was done the Doctor just said, “Mmmhmm.”

So, Jerry thought of a cheeseburger and pulled it out of the wrapper. “Would you rather have this?”

“No. That stuff is the worst thing for you. Processed meat, processed cheese, gluten, they put everything in that burger but hate and love—plenty of indifference though.”

Jerry tossed the burger away. “Now watch, I’ll get a new one.”

Jerry balled the wrapper, then unwrapped it again, a fresh cheeseburger revealed.

“Am I hallucinating? Did you just see that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s magic,” the Doctor said.

“Yeah, right. I’m hallucinating. Maybe you are too. Maybe it’s the wrapper, it’s got something funny on it, and just breathing it makes you think of cheeseburgers.”

“Could be. Why don’t we see what the others think?” The Doctor whistled, had to clear his throat, and then whistled again.

A head popped around the concrete pillar, then another, and another.

Pretty soon all the denizens of the tent city gathered round.

“See this empty wrapper,” the Doctor announced. “Watch carefully, for magic is at hand. Jesus had his loaves and fish, but dear Jerry has his processed cheese and meats!”

Jerry blushed, shrugged and balled up the wrapper.

“Watch closely,” the Doctor said.

Jerry unfolded the wrapper and watched the faces of tent city as they stared back suspiciously. Jerry smirked. “This one I’ll share.” But he didn’t he took a big bite, then another, and another to finish it. “Oops, did you all want one?”

Someone said, “This guy is a dick.”

“Please, please,” the Doctor warned the crowd. “Once more, Jerry.”

Jerry repeated the act, adding a few more flourishes to his motions.

A new cheeseburger appeared.

“Here, you have it,” Jerry said.

The young scruffy looking man shook his head and threw up a hand like a crossing guard. “I’m vegan.”

Jerry shrugged and turned to the next member of his audience. “How ‘bout you?”

“Sure.”

The man grabbed the burger. Then backed up and guffawed.

“Smooth, man.”

“Did you drop it?” Jerry asked. The burger was nowhere to be seen.

“You played a trick on me.”

“No, uh, here,” Jerry thought of a burger again, and it appeared in the wrapper. He tried once again to give it to the man.

“You gonna let me have it or what?”

“I’m trying.”

“He’s tricking you,” another homeless man said.

“Thinks he’s so damn funny.”

“No, I…”

“I bet there isn’t even a burger.”

“There is,” Jerry said. He pulled it from the wrapper and took a bite. He chewed with his mouth open as if to prove the point. Then he tossed the rest of the burger. All the eyes followed it.

No one caught it. It never landed on the ground.

It was gone.

“You stupid David Copperfield mother f—”

“He’s got them in his sleeves!”

“Get him!”

Get him.

The homeless converged on Jerry. He topped over someone’s bag, twisted his angle when he tried to stand. Then his head hit a rock…and another rock. The tent city had revolted against its magician. They ripped his clothes off, demanding the burgers he taunted them with.

The wrapper floated away. It landed on the Doctor’s barefoot. He picked it up, balled it up and then opened it. Nothing appeared. He tossed it and walked away. He couldn’t hear Jerry anymore, and he had a fish to fry.

><><

Kent was five feet ten inches of lean sweating bone and muscle. He had pushed himself to the point of exhaustion. He was on mile fifteen of what he termed a sprint. He cut down the bike path beneath the Nickel Bridge.

His legs turned to pistons as he worked a steep but short hill. It wasn’t meant for a runner with two feet, but a cyclist with speed. He applauded himself at the top, but he’d knew he’d feel it later. But the pain was worth it. He loved it. He loved how much weight he’d lost.

Kent was the fat kid in high school. When he came to college, he realized he could start anew. He did everything that summer to lose ten pounds. A year and half later and he’d lost sixty pounds of fat, and added twenty of pure muscle.

He ran past it.

Kent hated litter.

It was one thing to leave trash on asphalt or a sidewalk, but it looked wrong alongside the James River. He risked a hamstring injury and spun back around. He grabbed the yellow burger wrapper.

He’d throw it away for the fat slob that left it on their nature hike.

Kent hated people.

People had taunted him all his life. Even now, they made fun of his diet and resolve. There was no winning with people. They just liked to make fun of whatever wasn’t like them.

Kent would out live them all.

He jogged back up to Byrd Park with the trash. He knew there were public trash cans to dispose it in.

His stomach rumbled.

His old stupid fat self had loved burgers. He could almost imagine the pickles and onions, drenched in mustard and ketchup; the buttery bun and the illusion of beef. Dripping cheese.

His stomach cheered.

Kent was starving, but back home all that waited for him was humus and pita. He could go for a burger. He reached the trash can and opened his fist.

The cheeseburger caught his eye. He couldn’t take his eyes off it.

Had it been there the whole time?

He had found it left on the bike trail. It wasn’t going to be good. It was a trash burger.

No.

The burger was warming his hand. The cheese dripped.

“Aw screw it.” Kent jammed the burger in his mouth.

Shame was supposed to taste this good. It was the only way for him to live with it. He scarfed the burger down and wanted another more than anything else in the world. He would jog into Carytown and get one more.

The shame rose and he knew he couldn’t do it where people knew him. He’d run back and catch a bus. People who rode the bus wouldn’t judge him for eating fast food.

His surroundings stared at him.

They knew what he had done. He had eaten a trash burger.

The fat kid lived.

He searched Byrd Park in fear. There were plenty of other joggers and bikers. Traffic was almost reaching its peak at rush hour.

He wanted to run, but he could almost feel the cramp that would follow if he did.

A red car wasn’t far from him. It sat, facing him, quite possibly aware of all that had taken place.

The red hatchback looked familiar, but he wasn’t sure where he’d seen it before. He grew nervous as he worried that the driver had seen him eat a trash burger. He tried to play it off. He clenched the wrapper in his fist and started stretching. Anything to look busy.

The car inched towards him.

The woman leaned out and smiled, as if she had been laughing.

She said, “Have another, they’re all for you.”

Kent didn’t have a response. She just waved and drove away. Kent sighed and walked to the nearest trashcan. He almost tossed the wrapper, when another cheeseburger appeared.

He tried to talk himself out of it.

But he’d read an article about another runner who swore by fast food.

One more wouldn’t hurt him.

Would it?

THE END.