Gilly

She’d slammed the door hard, leaving the white Chevy station wagon halfway in the shade, half baking in the sun, with her sister pouting angrily in the back seat. She knew her sister’s legs would be sticking to the red vinyl seat cushion, as hers had. Now she strode away kicking the dust, the plastic container dangling emptily from the hard plastic strap in her hand.
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Their father had gotten the thermos, with a shiny red bottom and a barely off-white top, the large red and black emblem of a client prominently displayed on the white part, from one of the ad agencies on 54th and Lexington. He’d stopped there earlier that week, to drop off his last batch of sketches, shortly before they left on their cross-country trip. They had all argued about having to look at the Marlboro insignia every day, now that he had finally quit smoking for real, and not just while driving with the family. Her mother had calmed it down by promising to find a replacement somewhere on the way, but here they were, nearly in California, and other than some small plaid Coleman tube-like thermoses, with brown plastic cups as covers, they hadn’t found one with a similar volume.
She walked toward the barren looking roadside diner, with the fading metal Drink Coca-Cola signs, and a rack of maps and postcards near the door, too angry to stop and see if there was a card to send to her best friend back home.
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“Hi honey” was the voice from a large woman, sitting behind the counter in a white sleeveless top, with a sky-blue headband keeping her bangs in check as she brushed them with the back of her hand. She swatted aimlessly at a small persistent black fly. “What can I get you?’
The skinny, knobbly-kneed girl looked around and suddenly stopped. “I’m supposed to get some sodas and fill this up with water, but how much are these?’ she pointed to a dusty box, with a familiar design in pale yellow and white. “Those are a dime each”. The girl picked out a handful of wax-paper covered strips, and paid for them, listening to the cash register ring as the total showed up in metal letters in the top window. After that, she followed the woman’s pointing finger to find the bathroom sink, and slowly filled the thermos with cold water.
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On the way back to the car, she barely swung the newly heavy, pendulous canister, lifting her feet out of the dust, and the peeling tag of blue rubber that said Keds waved slightly as she raised each foot.
“Look”, she said as she stuck her hand through the open car window, “I got us these”.
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Her curly haired little sister looked at the offerings in her hand and smiled.
“Banana” she laughed…“banana taffy!”