Dinosaurs in the Casino
Mercy among lost bets
She took him by the hand and together they walked the esplanade among early evening shoppers. The boy stood out in his dinosaur pajamas, though these days even adults board planes in sleepwear, so no one paid them much attention.
She bought him a lollipop when he said he was hungry and they kept walking.
“Where are we going, Mommy?”
“I don’t know yet, sweetheart.”
And she didn’t.
The air felt better than the apartment. Cleaner. The breeze against her face made her feel, at least for a few minutes, that she had done the right thing.
Then it began to rain.
They walked faster. The boy was getting tired.
“Just a little further,” she said.
At the end of the esplanade stood the casino complex, glowing and busy. A man near the entrance glanced up from his phone as she pulled open one of the heavy doors with both hands.
Inside it smelled of smoke and stale beer and old carpet.
“It smells like Daddy,” the boy said.
“Yes,” she answered, tightening her grip on his hand as they moved past blinking machines and people leaning over green tables with drinks in front of them.
The boy slowed and then began to cry.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“I lost my lollipop.”
She saw it bent on the carpet near a cigarette butt.
“It’s okay,” she said. “We’ll get something better.”
She picked him up and carried him down a hallway away from the noise, past shops and bars and restaurants where she didn’t bother reading the expensive menus.
They found a bench. She counted the cash in her wallet twice.
“Man, I love them dinosaurs,” a voice said.
A casino security guard stood nearby. His name tag read Floyd Jefferson.
“Always been a dinosaur man myself,” he said, nodding toward the boy’s pajamas. “They don’t allow them in the casino. But I’ll tell you what, we don’t see enough dinosaurs around here.”
“We’re just passing through,” she said.
“I got you,” he replied. “There’s a place down the hall. Mabel’s Café. It’s quiet.”
He crouched to the boy. “You take care of your momma now.”
The boy smiled for the first time that night.
Mabel’s Café looked like it had been waiting for 1957 to return.
Black and white tile floor. Red vinyl booths. Chrome stools. Behind the counter stood a soda fountain and old milkshake mixers. Everything felt solid and worn, as if it had been there longer than the casino around it.
A waitress in a pink dress led them to a booth. Across the room an elderly cowboy sat alone with a milkshake in front of him.
“Best chocolate shake you’ll ever have,” the waitress said softly to the boy.
They ordered grilled cheese sandwiches and one milkshake to share.
Rain slid down the window. In the rear parking lot a stray cat ran for cover beneath some bushes.
“That kitty’s like us,” the boy said.
“How’s that?”
“He doesn’t know where to go.”
She watched the rain for a moment before answering. “Maybe he does. Maybe he’s just figuring it out.”
The waitress walked over to the old gentleman’s booth.
“You trying to fatten me up again?” he said, smiling into his milkshake glass.
“Well, Jonce, an old cowboy like you needs to keep his strength up,” she said. “Never know when a bull might come looking for you.”
Jonce chuckled and tapped the side of his empty glass. “These days this is about all the riding I do.”
The cook laughed from the kitchen. It was an easy laugh. Nothing sharp in it.
The waitress brought crayons and paper. The boy bent over the table and began drawing dinosaurs with careful attention. She dropped a quarter into the little jukebox and let an old song play low between the booths.
The rain against the window and the low music from the jukebox blurred together. The milkshake glass sat empty between them. The boy leaned into her and closed his eyes.
They had only meant to rest for a minute.
Morning came softly.
Sunlight lay across the booth. A blanket covered them.
A thin cook in an apron stood nearby.
“Carl put that over you at shift change,” he said. “Didn’t want you catching cold.”
“I’m sorry,” she began, reaching for her purse.
“Don’t you worry. Old Jonce picked up your supper. Said he’d cover breakfast too.”
She stopped.
The cook scratched the stubble on his chin. “He told me he’s been around long enough to recognize a couple calves wandered off the ranch. Said to tell you you’ll find your way.”
The boy was already at the window, watching the stray cat sitting in the sun, licking one paw as if the rain had never happened.
She stood and joined him. The light pooling across the checkered floor looked different in the morning.
“Are we going somewhere now?” the boy asked.
“Yes,” she said.
She took his hand and together they left the diner.
Outside, the day waited.
They stepped back into it.
Before you go
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Touching story.I loved it! I hope they had breakfast together before they left. There are still people out there who truly see others and care and get involved.
Beautiful story. I love your writing, so tender and evocative.