Pawnshop Romance
Sharon:
“Come on! You can at least loan me $10 for this toaster oven.” The customer with greasy hair and a dirty flannel leered at Brandon aggressively as the cord from the toaster oven dangled back and forth on the counter, scraping the glass above the ring display. The toaster looked like it cost $9.50 at a supermarket.
My boyfriend Brandon, with his back to a wall of guns, squinted at the customer. “Sorry, we can’t give you anything for that. Try DollarUSA down the street. I bet they’ll take cheap toaster ovens.”
Johnnie and I were resting on the bench by the door, snickering. I grabbed his arm and whispered loudly into his ear, “Is that freak coming down from speed?”
“Definitely.”
The speed-freak was swinging his toaster back and forth over the counter, “You can’t take it? It’s new! You guys are jerks!” As the man paced the shop, the scent of filthy clothing and unwashed skin circulated behind the counter and over to the bench where I was sitting in my short shorts and tank top. My legs were open in an unladylike fashion, and my boyfriend Brandon looked over at me and winked, before returning his attention back to the man with the toaster.
“Toaster probably has roaches in it,” I whispered to Johnnie. Johnnie smiled real big, exposing the giant gaps between his teeth.
Johnnie stood up and pulled a $20 from his wallet. “Could you pick us up a bucket of chicken, Sharon? The shop is swarming with freaks today. I can’t leave Brandon in here alone.”
I drove my brown Datsun over to the fast-food chicken restaurant, grabbed a bucket and some sides, and returned to the pawnshop.
The guys each grabbed a piece of chicken, ignoring the napkins. They dropped crumbs and grease on the counter while eyeing the customers. The customers were pulling tangled tools from buckets and asking the guys, “How much for this screwdriver?” The guys generally charged $1 a tool.
Occasionally, Johnnie stealthily asked me to wander the shop and make sure no one was stealing anything. I haven’t caught anyone yet, but I’ve never been good at observation. I’d rather sit on the bench and eat. I don’t like chicken. Respectfully, Bran ate the meat part, and pulled off the crunchy skins for me to munch on.
Bran looked cute today in his cranberry-colored shirt, and his hair was at that perfect length. Lately, he’s been moody. He doesn’t seem to have fun with me, anymore, and we’ve been arguing. Today, he seems content. He kissed me when I came into the shop. Then he said, “Tomorrow, we need to talk.” Should I be worried?
Brandon:
I met Sharon almost three years ago. It was in my pawnshop. A sad old country tune was playing on the radio. Tears dripped down her face as she walked up to the counter carrying an old stereo and a small TV set. I thought to myself, “that crap ain’t worth $20.”
She was a pretty blonde, though her beauty was masked by her tangled hair, a big flowery cotton shirt and baggy sweat pants. The sweat pants had a hole right above the left thigh and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of it. Her eyelids hung low over her eyes like she was hung-over.
I wanted to help her, but I was stuck helping a sweaty old man who was trying to pawn three old, noisy vacuum cleaners. I wanted to get rid of the guy, so I plugged them in, listened to the roar for a moment, and said, “Sorry sir, these vacuums don’t work.”
“What! They are quality vacuum cleaners!”
“No, they are not. Those vacuum cleaners wouldn’t be worth $10 new. They look like they’ve been used for 30 years!” I bickered with the guy until he huffed off, dragging his three defective vacuum cleaners out the door. He kicked the door on his way out. I saw him throw two of the vacuums into the trash bin out front.
After he left, I ran to the bathroom to check my face in the mirror, just to make sure it wasn’t covered in vacuum cleaner soot. When I returned, Johnnie was asking the blonde, “How much money do you want for your TV and stereo?”
“$50,” she said.
“$50? Are you crazy! Those ain’t worth $10.50.”
I winked at Johnnie. He winked back. Then he looked back at the pretty lady and said, “Tell you what. Let’s make a deal. I’ll give you $50, but you have to promise to buy back your stuff. We give loans; we don’t like to get stuck with every piece of junk that comes into this place.”
She looked down for a long moment. When she looked back up at him, she was smiling. “Hey, thanks!”
“What’s your name, lady?” asked Johnnie.
“Sharon.”
“You’re pretty when you smile, Sharon,” he said.
“Even though I’m hung-over and wearing sweats?”
I grinned like an idiot. “You may be a bum today, but you’re still cute.”
She giggled, showing her teeth. They were stained, but even.
Johnnie winked at me. “Don’t you think this lady has a pretty smile, Brandon?”
“Yeah. But her eyes are even prettier. What’s a lady like you doing in a pawnshop?”
“Stop the b.s., you grimy old pawnshop guys!” She was giggling like a 16-year-old girl in an ice cream parlor.
“Ooh this lady has some bite to her! Whatcha gonna do with all this cash we just gave you?” Brandon asked.
She looked at the display of diamond rings under the counter. Then, she looked up at the guns. She pointed to a gun that cost $50. “Sweetheart, I can’t let you buy a Raven .25. That gun’ll blow up your hands before it hits a target.”
She looked like she was about to cry. “I didn’t come here to buy your stupid guns. I turn 30 tomorrow. I’m broke. Ain’t that sad? I’m 30, and I can’t even afford to go out drinking on my birthday. That’s why I’m here.”
I leaned back on my stool and lowered my eyes. “Yeah, I can remember turning 30. Tough day.” What a whiner, I thought. I hope she’s not always like that.
Johnnie rubbed his forehead. “Thirty. Thirty hurts. But you’ll get over it.”
“Maybe,” Sharon said. “It sucks to get old. In my early 20s, I could get away with stupid decisions, just because I was young. But now that I’m 30, I feel like I have to make better decisions. Besides, the things that were important when I was younger, like being smart and doing well in school, are all in the past. It doesn’t matter what I do, anymore. I need to start saving for retirement.” She slumped back against a 50-inch TV screen.
“Retirement is a joke. We won’t have any of that, will we Johnnie? Our only benefit is watching people more pitiful than us stumble in here for money. Oh, not you, Sharon.”
Oh, crap. Vacuum-cleaner guy was back, pushing five vacuums this time. I yelled at him, “Do those work?” Then, I walked over to the guy, smiling. I wanted Sharon to think I was the best pawnbroker in the whole world.
“Of course they work. Think Steve-o would pawn you broken vacuum cleaners?”
“You just tried to, sucker. Let’s test this bunch out.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Johnnie kept Sharon entertained. Every time Sharon looked like she was getting ready to leave, I gave Johnnie a sharp look. He somehow managed to keep the conversation going. I paid Steve-o $30 for three of his stupid vacuum cleaners, just to get rid of him. Steve-o was a fat, ruddy-faced man who needed to take a walk or eat some fiber. He was panting, like he had lung problems. That’s what getting old does to a man. Heart problems. Prescriptions. Sore joints.
When I finally finished up with Steve-o, I got into another conversation with Sharon and Johnnie. Later, I convinced Sharon to go out drinking with me, and she convinced me to pay. We got drunk on beer and blackberry brandy. I didn’t see her again until a month later, when she returned to pay back the loan on her stereo and crummy TV set. That’s when I asked her out.
I never thought my relationship with Sharon would become stagnant. We still have the same jobs we had when we met. She still makes $9 an hour at a home furnishings store. I still work at the pawnshop. We haven’t grown together.
Many people are in relationships that aren’t permanent. People often stay in emotionally devoid relationships for years with no real commitment. I call these casual couplings “black hole” relationships. The black hole is impossible to escape, and it doesn’t supply any security.
I first asked Sharon out because she captivated me. I was a boring old drunk, and I thought I could connect with her. I remember the day I realized I could never be happy with her. It was almost a year ago. We were watching TV at my house. My roommate had just moved out, and she asked if she could move in with me. I said no. She didn’t understand why. I’m not sure if I did, either. “Come on, Bran, we need to be together. I promise you that we will ‘grow together,’ like you want.”
She was tickling my arm, flirting, but I wished she would move away from me. Not that I didn’t like it, but I was watching TV at the moment…
She sat on my lap, facing me, and took my hands. “Hey, how would you like to take a three-day weekend and go up to the mountains?”
“No.”
“Why can’t we spend a weekend together? Alone? Away from the roar of the city? Somewhere quiet, where we can ‘grow together?’”
“I don’t think so.”
“Fine! I’ll go alone.”
Sharon:
We were sitting outside, against the side of the pawnshop, eating pizza. Bran got a cheese pizza, which is boring. I like sausage pizza.
I ate the cheese off the pizza, and threw the crusts at a flock of pigeons. Bran has been quiet lately. He asked me to stop by his work this afternoon so that we could talk. We sat together silently for about 15 minutes.
“Bran! Jeezus! Tell me, what is up! We’ve been together for three years. Why can’t we communicate?” I reached for his hand. He pulled it away. He wouldn’t look at me.
“Ok, here goes.” He turned away from me, and pulled his body away even farther. “Jack, the owner of the pawnshop, lives out in Evanton. He owns another pawnshop out there. He is in love with a woman here in the city, and he wants to move here, permanently, and run this shop.”
“Evanton? Where the heck is Evanton?”
“A hundred miles south of here.”
“And he wants you to manage the shop out in Evanton?”
“Yeah. He can’t pay me much more than I make here, but I’ll get to stay in his house for almost nothing. Sharon, I’m ready for a change. I can’t turn it down.”
“Can’t I come with you?”
“I don’t think so...”
“When are you leaving?”
“Soon.”
“Why can’t I come? I have no life here, either! You say our relationship is stagnant. But, maybe if we left together, we could start a new life.” I reached over and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked like he was softening for a moment, but then he pulled away.
“Sharon, no...”
“Brandon, we’re happier together than apart.”
He stood up and walked over to his rusty Saab. I followed. It was filled with his clothes. Knowing him, he’s already moved his aquarium. And his record collection. And his tools…
I wonder what I’ll find down the street at DollarUSA.
“Come on! You can at least loan me $10 for this toaster oven.” The customer with greasy hair and a dirty flannel leered at Brandon aggressively as the cord from the toaster oven dangled back and forth on the counter, scraping the glass above the ring display. The toaster looked like it cost $9.50 at a supermarket.
My boyfriend Brandon, with his back to a wall of guns, squinted at the customer. “Sorry, we can’t give you anything for that. Try DollarUSA down the street. I bet they’ll take cheap toaster ovens.”
Johnnie and I were resting on the bench by the door, snickering. I grabbed his arm and whispered loudly into his ear, “Is that freak coming down from speed?”
“Definitely.”
The speed-freak was swinging his toaster back and forth over the counter, “You can’t take it? It’s new! You guys are jerks!” As the man paced the shop, the scent of filthy clothing and unwashed skin circulated behind the counter and over to the bench where I was sitting in my short shorts and tank top. My legs were open in an unladylike fashion, and my boyfriend Brandon looked over at me and winked, before returning his attention back to the man with the toaster.
“Toaster probably has roaches in it,” I whispered to Johnnie. Johnnie smiled real big, exposing the giant gaps between his teeth.
Johnnie stood up and pulled a $20 from his wallet. “Could you pick us up a bucket of chicken, Sharon? The shop is swarming with freaks today. I can’t leave Brandon in here alone.”
I drove my brown Datsun over to the fast-food chicken restaurant, grabbed a bucket and some sides, and returned to the pawnshop.
The guys each grabbed a piece of chicken, ignoring the napkins. They dropped crumbs and grease on the counter while eyeing the customers. The customers were pulling tangled tools from buckets and asking the guys, “How much for this screwdriver?” The guys generally charged $1 a tool.
Occasionally, Johnnie stealthily asked me to wander the shop and make sure no one was stealing anything. I haven’t caught anyone yet, but I’ve never been good at observation. I’d rather sit on the bench and eat. I don’t like chicken. Respectfully, Bran ate the meat part, and pulled off the crunchy skins for me to munch on.
Bran looked cute today in his cranberry-colored shirt, and his hair was at that perfect length. Lately, he’s been moody. He doesn’t seem to have fun with me, anymore, and we’ve been arguing. Today, he seems content. He kissed me when I came into the shop. Then he said, “Tomorrow, we need to talk.” Should I be worried?
Brandon:
I met Sharon almost three years ago. It was in my pawnshop. A sad old country tune was playing on the radio. Tears dripped down her face as she walked up to the counter carrying an old stereo and a small TV set. I thought to myself, “that crap ain’t worth $20.”
She was a pretty blonde, though her beauty was masked by her tangled hair, a big flowery cotton shirt and baggy sweat pants. The sweat pants had a hole right above the left thigh and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of it. Her eyelids hung low over her eyes like she was hung-over.
I wanted to help her, but I was stuck helping a sweaty old man who was trying to pawn three old, noisy vacuum cleaners. I wanted to get rid of the guy, so I plugged them in, listened to the roar for a moment, and said, “Sorry sir, these vacuums don’t work.”
“What! They are quality vacuum cleaners!”
“No, they are not. Those vacuum cleaners wouldn’t be worth $10 new. They look like they’ve been used for 30 years!” I bickered with the guy until he huffed off, dragging his three defective vacuum cleaners out the door. He kicked the door on his way out. I saw him throw two of the vacuums into the trash bin out front.
After he left, I ran to the bathroom to check my face in the mirror, just to make sure it wasn’t covered in vacuum cleaner soot. When I returned, Johnnie was asking the blonde, “How much money do you want for your TV and stereo?”
“$50,” she said.
“$50? Are you crazy! Those ain’t worth $10.50.”
I winked at Johnnie. He winked back. Then he looked back at the pretty lady and said, “Tell you what. Let’s make a deal. I’ll give you $50, but you have to promise to buy back your stuff. We give loans; we don’t like to get stuck with every piece of junk that comes into this place.”
She looked down for a long moment. When she looked back up at him, she was smiling. “Hey, thanks!”
“What’s your name, lady?” asked Johnnie.
“Sharon.”
“You’re pretty when you smile, Sharon,” he said.
“Even though I’m hung-over and wearing sweats?”
I grinned like an idiot. “You may be a bum today, but you’re still cute.”
She giggled, showing her teeth. They were stained, but even.
Johnnie winked at me. “Don’t you think this lady has a pretty smile, Brandon?”
“Yeah. But her eyes are even prettier. What’s a lady like you doing in a pawnshop?”
“Stop the b.s., you grimy old pawnshop guys!” She was giggling like a 16-year-old girl in an ice cream parlor.
“Ooh this lady has some bite to her! Whatcha gonna do with all this cash we just gave you?” Brandon asked.
She looked at the display of diamond rings under the counter. Then, she looked up at the guns. She pointed to a gun that cost $50. “Sweetheart, I can’t let you buy a Raven .25. That gun’ll blow up your hands before it hits a target.”
She looked like she was about to cry. “I didn’t come here to buy your stupid guns. I turn 30 tomorrow. I’m broke. Ain’t that sad? I’m 30, and I can’t even afford to go out drinking on my birthday. That’s why I’m here.”
I leaned back on my stool and lowered my eyes. “Yeah, I can remember turning 30. Tough day.” What a whiner, I thought. I hope she’s not always like that.
Johnnie rubbed his forehead. “Thirty. Thirty hurts. But you’ll get over it.”
“Maybe,” Sharon said. “It sucks to get old. In my early 20s, I could get away with stupid decisions, just because I was young. But now that I’m 30, I feel like I have to make better decisions. Besides, the things that were important when I was younger, like being smart and doing well in school, are all in the past. It doesn’t matter what I do, anymore. I need to start saving for retirement.” She slumped back against a 50-inch TV screen.
“Retirement is a joke. We won’t have any of that, will we Johnnie? Our only benefit is watching people more pitiful than us stumble in here for money. Oh, not you, Sharon.”
Oh, crap. Vacuum-cleaner guy was back, pushing five vacuums this time. I yelled at him, “Do those work?” Then, I walked over to the guy, smiling. I wanted Sharon to think I was the best pawnbroker in the whole world.
“Of course they work. Think Steve-o would pawn you broken vacuum cleaners?”
“You just tried to, sucker. Let’s test this bunch out.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Johnnie kept Sharon entertained. Every time Sharon looked like she was getting ready to leave, I gave Johnnie a sharp look. He somehow managed to keep the conversation going. I paid Steve-o $30 for three of his stupid vacuum cleaners, just to get rid of him. Steve-o was a fat, ruddy-faced man who needed to take a walk or eat some fiber. He was panting, like he had lung problems. That’s what getting old does to a man. Heart problems. Prescriptions. Sore joints.
When I finally finished up with Steve-o, I got into another conversation with Sharon and Johnnie. Later, I convinced Sharon to go out drinking with me, and she convinced me to pay. We got drunk on beer and blackberry brandy. I didn’t see her again until a month later, when she returned to pay back the loan on her stereo and crummy TV set. That’s when I asked her out.
I never thought my relationship with Sharon would become stagnant. We still have the same jobs we had when we met. She still makes $9 an hour at a home furnishings store. I still work at the pawnshop. We haven’t grown together.
Many people are in relationships that aren’t permanent. People often stay in emotionally devoid relationships for years with no real commitment. I call these casual couplings “black hole” relationships. The black hole is impossible to escape, and it doesn’t supply any security.
I first asked Sharon out because she captivated me. I was a boring old drunk, and I thought I could connect with her. I remember the day I realized I could never be happy with her. It was almost a year ago. We were watching TV at my house. My roommate had just moved out, and she asked if she could move in with me. I said no. She didn’t understand why. I’m not sure if I did, either. “Come on, Bran, we need to be together. I promise you that we will ‘grow together,’ like you want.”
She was tickling my arm, flirting, but I wished she would move away from me. Not that I didn’t like it, but I was watching TV at the moment…
She sat on my lap, facing me, and took my hands. “Hey, how would you like to take a three-day weekend and go up to the mountains?”
“No.”
“Why can’t we spend a weekend together? Alone? Away from the roar of the city? Somewhere quiet, where we can ‘grow together?’”
“I don’t think so.”
“Fine! I’ll go alone.”
Sharon:
We were sitting outside, against the side of the pawnshop, eating pizza. Bran got a cheese pizza, which is boring. I like sausage pizza.
I ate the cheese off the pizza, and threw the crusts at a flock of pigeons. Bran has been quiet lately. He asked me to stop by his work this afternoon so that we could talk. We sat together silently for about 15 minutes.
“Bran! Jeezus! Tell me, what is up! We’ve been together for three years. Why can’t we communicate?” I reached for his hand. He pulled it away. He wouldn’t look at me.
“Ok, here goes.” He turned away from me, and pulled his body away even farther. “Jack, the owner of the pawnshop, lives out in Evanton. He owns another pawnshop out there. He is in love with a woman here in the city, and he wants to move here, permanently, and run this shop.”
“Evanton? Where the heck is Evanton?”
“A hundred miles south of here.”
“And he wants you to manage the shop out in Evanton?”
“Yeah. He can’t pay me much more than I make here, but I’ll get to stay in his house for almost nothing. Sharon, I’m ready for a change. I can’t turn it down.”
“Can’t I come with you?”
“I don’t think so...”
“When are you leaving?”
“Soon.”
“Why can’t I come? I have no life here, either! You say our relationship is stagnant. But, maybe if we left together, we could start a new life.” I reached over and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked like he was softening for a moment, but then he pulled away.
“Sharon, no...”
“Brandon, we’re happier together than apart.”
He stood up and walked over to his rusty Saab. I followed. It was filled with his clothes. Knowing him, he’s already moved his aquarium. And his record collection. And his tools…
I wonder what I’ll find down the street at DollarUSA.