Stop in Nevada (Part II)
(Another brief excerpt from my novel in progress...)
I drove inland on two-lane roads, not caring too much where exactly I went, chasing the sun west as it traveled down the sky. When it got close to the horizon, I looked for signs, and I found myself at the counter of a truck stop somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania, reading maps over a cheeseburger and a cup of coffee. At first the waitress looked at me a little funny, as if I didn’t belong there - and I guess I didn’t - but she left me alone after that.
I had no idea what I was looking for. The truth was, I had planned the leaving so well, I hadn’t given all that much thought to the traveling or the arriving. I just trusted that I would know where I was going and what to do once I got there. But I hadn’t even been gone a whole day, and I was… not lost, exactly. I knew where I was, it was right there on the map. I just didn’t know what to do about it.
I took a sip of my coffee, and not quite believing it, I took another. It was the best I’d had in years, better than the burnt crayon water in the teacher’s lounge, better than anything at those gourmet coffee shops that were starting to pop up everywhere lately, and I laughed.
“Ain’t nothin’ like truck stop coffee.” He’d been sitting two stools to my right for about twenty minutes, working on a turkey dinner, glancing over every now and then. I smiled and went back to my burger and my map.
“Nothin’ around here, you know. You’re not really on the beaten path as far as sight-seeing, if you know what I mean.” He was a little pudgy and a little grey around the ears, and he was firing up a cigarette with a silver lighter.
“That’s okay, I’m just kind of passing through.”
“Where you stayin’?”
“I - I can’t tell you that. I don’t know you.”
“I’m Bill. This is my diner. Melissa!” he called out, and the waitress came over. “Get this young lady whatever she wants for dessert on me, okay?”
“Really, that’s okay.” The last time someone called me “young lady,” I was interviewing for my first teaching job, and I’d nearly kicked the principal in the teeth for doing it. Tonight it sounded almost charming.
“All right, but you’re going to hurt Melissa’s feelings if you don’t have some of her homemade pie.”
“Oh, lay off of her, Billy. Can’t you see she’s trying to eat her dinner in peace?” The whole thing sounded so folksy and contrived I couldn’t help but smile again.
“Tell me, Billy, which one of her pies is your favorite?”
“Doesn’t matter. Ain’t never had a pie made by that woman didn’t make me want to marry her right there on the spot.”
Melissa shook her head and removed his plate. “Ain’t never asked, though, have you, Billy?”
“Your brother would kick my ass from here to Bethlehem. Besides, you’d probably just say yes and spoil the whole damn thing.” He turned to me and winked.
“Okay, Melissa, surprise me.”
She nodded and walked away with Billy’s plate, and I got back to work on my burger. Billy smoked quietly and looked at his magazine.
A few minutes later, Melissa came back with a wide slice of pie, set a can of whipped cream in front me, and refilled my coffee. I didn’t recognize the pie's filling, but I gave it a shot. I felt saliva shoot out of the back of my mouth, and I closed my eyes. “Oh, my God.”
“Told you.” I opened my eyes to see Billy on the stool next to mine, watching me intently. I was pretty sure I was blushing, and I drew back a little bit. I looked down at the pie.
“What is this? I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
“Strawberry rhubarb. Couldn’t make a pie out of either one by itself, but together they’re magic.”
“Magic is a good word for it,” I said, and took another forkful. “So what’s the real reason you haven’t asked Melissa to marry you?”
He leaned forward with a serious look. “I can’t tell you that. I don’t know you.”
I grinned. I took the whipped cream from its perch, shook up the can, and aimed downward at my pie. “I’m Joanna. And I have no idea where I’m staying tonight. Would you like a bite of my pie?”
Billy rolled up his sleeves. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I drove inland on two-lane roads, not caring too much where exactly I went, chasing the sun west as it traveled down the sky. When it got close to the horizon, I looked for signs, and I found myself at the counter of a truck stop somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania, reading maps over a cheeseburger and a cup of coffee. At first the waitress looked at me a little funny, as if I didn’t belong there - and I guess I didn’t - but she left me alone after that.
I had no idea what I was looking for. The truth was, I had planned the leaving so well, I hadn’t given all that much thought to the traveling or the arriving. I just trusted that I would know where I was going and what to do once I got there. But I hadn’t even been gone a whole day, and I was… not lost, exactly. I knew where I was, it was right there on the map. I just didn’t know what to do about it.
I took a sip of my coffee, and not quite believing it, I took another. It was the best I’d had in years, better than the burnt crayon water in the teacher’s lounge, better than anything at those gourmet coffee shops that were starting to pop up everywhere lately, and I laughed.
“Ain’t nothin’ like truck stop coffee.” He’d been sitting two stools to my right for about twenty minutes, working on a turkey dinner, glancing over every now and then. I smiled and went back to my burger and my map.
“Nothin’ around here, you know. You’re not really on the beaten path as far as sight-seeing, if you know what I mean.” He was a little pudgy and a little grey around the ears, and he was firing up a cigarette with a silver lighter.
“That’s okay, I’m just kind of passing through.”
“Where you stayin’?”
“I - I can’t tell you that. I don’t know you.”
“I’m Bill. This is my diner. Melissa!” he called out, and the waitress came over. “Get this young lady whatever she wants for dessert on me, okay?”
“Really, that’s okay.” The last time someone called me “young lady,” I was interviewing for my first teaching job, and I’d nearly kicked the principal in the teeth for doing it. Tonight it sounded almost charming.
“All right, but you’re going to hurt Melissa’s feelings if you don’t have some of her homemade pie.”
“Oh, lay off of her, Billy. Can’t you see she’s trying to eat her dinner in peace?” The whole thing sounded so folksy and contrived I couldn’t help but smile again.
“Tell me, Billy, which one of her pies is your favorite?”
“Doesn’t matter. Ain’t never had a pie made by that woman didn’t make me want to marry her right there on the spot.”
Melissa shook her head and removed his plate. “Ain’t never asked, though, have you, Billy?”
“Your brother would kick my ass from here to Bethlehem. Besides, you’d probably just say yes and spoil the whole damn thing.” He turned to me and winked.
“Okay, Melissa, surprise me.”
She nodded and walked away with Billy’s plate, and I got back to work on my burger. Billy smoked quietly and looked at his magazine.
A few minutes later, Melissa came back with a wide slice of pie, set a can of whipped cream in front me, and refilled my coffee. I didn’t recognize the pie's filling, but I gave it a shot. I felt saliva shoot out of the back of my mouth, and I closed my eyes. “Oh, my God.”
“Told you.” I opened my eyes to see Billy on the stool next to mine, watching me intently. I was pretty sure I was blushing, and I drew back a little bit. I looked down at the pie.
“What is this? I’ve never tasted anything like it.”
“Strawberry rhubarb. Couldn’t make a pie out of either one by itself, but together they’re magic.”
“Magic is a good word for it,” I said, and took another forkful. “So what’s the real reason you haven’t asked Melissa to marry you?”
He leaned forward with a serious look. “I can’t tell you that. I don’t know you.”
I grinned. I took the whipped cream from its perch, shook up the can, and aimed downward at my pie. “I’m Joanna. And I have no idea where I’m staying tonight. Would you like a bite of my pie?”
Billy rolled up his sleeves. “I thought you’d never ask.”