With Extra Pickles
Written by Tiffany Ko, Illustrated by Francine Cruz - August 27th, 2020
Vera hated pickles. She hated their bumpy texture and the slimy trail they left behind in her mouth. She hated how the sour taste of them soaked into whatever they touched, so that everything became unpalatable.
When she was small, her mother would pick the cucumbers from their courtyard, the oblong nubs only a few inches in length, the longest they could grow before something got to them. Then it was chopping the meaty flesh into small rounds before incubating them in liquid filled jars.
Vera’s job was to fill the jars with brine. She’d look up at her mother’s back, frilly apron pulled tight, arm waving vigorously across the pot, while she stood with ladle and funnel on hand to pour just the right amount into each jar. Sometimes the brine would scald her fingertips and for days after they’d look like prunes. Every time her mother had guests over, Vera would be the one proffering the mounds of pickles as a garnish for every dish.
When she left home, it wasn’t her overbearing mother she was relieved to be free of, but the jars of pickles lined up in neat rows on the kitchen counter. Not long after, she had returned, a haircut the sole evidence of her time away.
At first, Vera would only take her mother on daily walks, but then she found herself chopping the vegetables, vacuuming the rugs and dusting the bookshelves. Instead of pouring pickle brine into jars, she began to prepare the IV drip and measure her mother’s temperature before tucking her in for the night.
She would watch as the trees outside her window turned burnt umber and fell to leave the branches bare, then spring back up in bright green hues. Her old classmates would pass by arm in arm with their fiancés, then with their strollers crunching over the leaves. When it was wet, their children would splash ankle deep in the puddles, gumboots and jackets zipped up to their chins, free to roam wherever their little limbs could take them.
She didn’t stay in the house long after her mother passed. With a ticket in one hand and suitcase in the other, Vera took the same bus she had fifteen years earlier, when she’d first left home.
***
It was a Sunday afternoon when Vera left the house after carefully lining her lips in red. Rounding the corner, she reached the now familiar burger joint, its oily fumes and deep-fried goodness a secret guilty pleasure. The pimply cashier was on till three, as usual.
“Hello Ms Vee! So nice to see you again.”
“Yes, and it’s nice to see you too…”
“Justin.”
Vera tipped her chin down in a nod.
“Is it a double cheeseburger with extra pickles today?”
Vera gave another nod, and fished around her purse for a gold coin. “Do you have the two dollar special on?”
“Only on weekdays I’m ‘fraid, but I’ll make it a special, just for you.” Justin gave her a wink.
Vera located a gold coin and placed it on the counter, shiny side up. Then it was the short wait looking into the kitchen, at the boy who was flipping patties on the grill, and the girl pasting potato buns thick with creamy mayonnaise and ketchup. Sometimes the bin boy would make a short appearance hoisting a wilting bag of waste over his shoulder, before thinking better of it and lugging it out the back.
They were quiet days now, with only a handful of workers rostered on. Before the mining boom, mothers and fathers were still hanging around. Now there were hardly enough customers to keep it afloat. Back then, the extra hands would be on round up duty under the pretence of sweeping the floor.
There’d been a mad rush one Sunday when an AFL star was in town. Little girls, but mostly boys milled around, pulling at their grandfather’s hands, pointing and shouting. Then someone on round up would shuffle the tired grandparents along, guiding them back in line and getting their orders before they got to the counter.
Justin used to be on round up duty, giving the kids high fives, sneaking an occasional toy or two into their outstretched hands. That’s how Vera recognised him. It was months before she had the courage to approach him and order a double cheeseburger with no pickles. No pickles was the first and last time she ordered without them. He had wrinkled his nose at the request before she chimed in, “Actually, on second thoughts, why don’t we have extra pickles instead?” Then she sat with the burger sandwiched between her fingers, biting around the offensive vegetable, hiding them in between mountains of lettuce and tomato, before picking them out to sit in their own soggy mess.
***
She was eighteen when she got pregnant with him. It wasn’t that young, not really, if you compared her to other teen mums, and Vera was technically an adult in the eyes of the law, even if she still slept till noon and ran on cake and Froot Loops.
The father wasn’t anyone special. Some guy from the local pub, he’d been eyeing her for weeks. And she gave in just because she had nothing else to do that night.
Then a month or two went by, and she finally realised it wasn’t stress. Her mother was strict and old-fashioned, in the sense that babies were for marriage and marriage was a definite thing. First chance she got, she’d smashed her piggy bank, ceramic shards littering her desk and bed. Then five hundred dollars and a long-distance bus ride the next morning.
It was 4am when she found herself out in the cold, duffel bag in hand, her phone a shoddy GPS pointing to the nearest B&B. She sat by the entrance until a woman came out to greet her.
“What are you doing hanging around at this time of night? Come in, it’s freezing outside.”
“Sorry, my bus was early.” Vera shouldered her duffel and stepped onto the landing.
“You’re one of the unlucky ones then eh?”
“I…guess so.” It took her a moment to realise the woman wasn’t talking about her pregnancy.
“Why don’t we get you a nice cuppa and have you settled in. How long do you want to stay?”
Vera paused. “Just a night. Or two. I’m not sure. Can I let you know?”
The woman smiled, the wrinkles in the corner of her eyes scrunching up like dried glue. “Of course. Come on up then, I’ll take you to your room so you can put your things down.”
Vera stayed until he was born, paying board by helping around the B&B. She’d planned to stay on with the baby, but then the B&B closed down – lack of business. And Vera, well. She was stranded with no place to go and a baby in tow.
So she ended up back at her mother’s, the baby boy given away.
***
It was another Sunday before Vera ventured into the burger joint. This time, Justin was on his lunch break.
“Hello Justin.”
He glanced up, the movement knocking his burger over and revealing a mass of pickles underneath, glistening in an uncomfortable pile.
“Ms Vee! Nice to see ya.” He stood up to greet her.
“No need to stand, I’ll join you.” Vera slid into the bench across from him. “You’re a fan of pickles?” She nodded at the burger.
“Yeah, I love ‘em. Anything sour, it’s my jam.” Justin picked a slimy round up and popped it into his mouth. “You love ‘em too right? A double cheeseburger with extra pickles.”
Vera tipped her chin down in a nod.
“You’re not having anything today?” Justin resumed tackling his meal, securing the top bun back into place.
“Not today, no.”
“Well, after this burger I’m going back on my shift. You sure I can’t get you something?”
“No, no. I’m alright.” Vera pulled out a napkin from her purse and placed it flat on the table. “So do you go to school?”
Justin glanced at her. “Yeah, but it’s the weekend. I work every weekend and some school nights too.”
“So you’re supporting your parents?”
Justin laughed. “Nah, Mum and Pops do alright by themselves. I’m trying to save up for a Ford.” His teeth crunched down on a pickle, the sound a little too crisp. “I’m not driving yet, but I’m saving now so by then I’ll have something.”
Vera nodded again.
“Anyway, soon as I graduate, I’ll be outta here with Sarah. She wants to try it out in the big smoke, so I guess I’ll follow too.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yeah, hopefully.”
“I see.” Vera played with the corner of the napkin in front of her. “And Sarah. Are you happy together?”
“Yeah.” Justin smiled. “Yeah I am. I know I’m still young, but she’s the one, I can feel it here.” He tapped at his badge, right on top of where his heart is. “But that’s enough about me Ms Vee. How about you?”
“I should head off.” Vera stood up, smoothed her dress down. “I’m glad you’re happy.”
“I’ll see you soon.” Justin said, but Vera’s back was already at the door.
He gave her a limp wave, then chucked the neatly folded triangle she had left behind onto his tray.
"'With Extra Pickles' was born from stories untold, real or imagined. It’s an exploration of the reasons behind keeping life altering secrets, and the sacrifices one makes to ensure another’s happiness in place of their own."
- Tiffany Ko