Wolfsbane and Wallflowers

A Valuable Commdity

It was not quite dinner and well past lunch so the diner was pretty empty. One booth was occupied by the little old men who took to eating there every day. Their wives had passed on and they formed an unofficial club where they hung out in that booth, reminiscing about the past and arguing politics. It could get pretty heated, which was pretty funny because they all basically had the same political view point and all voted for the same candidates.

“Lena, who’s your friend?” Mr. Baker called out as we headed towards an open booth. It was a seat yourself kind of environment.

“I got a new neighbor. He bought Mr Sommer’s place. His name’s Flynn Elliot.” It was enough information to satiate their curiosity. Handshakes were exchanged between the men and they welcomed him to town. We sat down and they relived their friendship with Mr Sommers, sharing anecdotes and stories of their youth together.

“Everyone really does know each other here, don’t they?” He seemed almost impressed to have stepped into the small town stereotype and it be so accurate.

“Pretty much, after the factories left in the seventies and eighties for cheaper labor in China and Mexico, there were not really any jobs. Nobody has any reason to move here.” It was kind of sad to think about how much such a thing had affected the community. “Not to mention, I’m pretty sure I’m related to three out of four of those guys. I would have to talk to Grandma, but now its just to the point I assume everyone is family in some way or another.”

“We have a lot of that on the reservations. I suppose it is bound to happen when generations stay in the same area.”

“Just be careful, cause everyone knows you are here by now. I am sure Mrs. Lewis already gossiped to all her friends who in turn told their daughters and grand daughters and you are most definitely not anyone’s relative. I foresee a lot of baked goods in your near future.” I handed him one of the menus and realized just how hungry I was.

“Well look who the cat dragged in?” Of all the servers to be working, it had to be Erin, bitchy and brazen. She was the type who still clung to her high school glory, squeezing into clothes she hadn’t fit into in years. Perhaps if I was a miserable, raging alcoholic, I would prefer to relive high school as well.

“Hey Erin, how you been?” Her eyes lingered on Flynn in an unclean way.

“From what I hear, better than you. Did you really beat a customer nearly to death? Tim was in here this morning for coffee talking about how brutal it was.” Oh f**k… I forgot about that. I hardly believed those were Tim’s words at all. He wasn’t the type. Between her body language and facial expression, I suddenly felt like I was sucked into some obscure competition for Flynn’s attention that I had no interest in being in.

“I wouldn’t say brutal, just a drunk trucker who said some inappropriate things and threatened me.” If she had been trying to make me look bad it didn’t seem to work.

“Lena, the ninja, black squirrel? Maybe squirrels are more terrifying than I thought.” Flynn let out a laugh. “I think I would have paid money to see you fight someone.”

“And who is this tall drink of water? Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Did she really say that? Let me vomit in my mouth just a bit.

“His name is Flynn. He just moved in. Flynn, this is Erin.” My introduction was dry. I didn’t feel guilty.

“Erin, Erin Michaels Homecoming Queen of 2017.” She proudly extended her hand for a shake. He glanced at me with a look that said “is she for real” and I bit back a giggle. Finally, she took our order and left us in peace.

“I’m pretty sure she polishes her crown everynight and dances around her room with it on, fondly reliving the night.” College had not gone so well for Erin and she returned home before the first semester ended. No one really bothered to ask why. She got a job at the diner and has been patiently waiting for her Prince Charming. I had a feeling she was not the princess Flynn was looking for.

“She is a bit,” he paused for a moment, looking for the right word, “intense maybe.”

“She is something, all right. Good Luck to you, Sir.” I said with a laugh, knowing full well what was brewing. We changed the subject before she returned with our cokes.

“So what is there to do in Beaumont?” I scrunched my face up in thought as I tried to come up with an answer. “Well, pretty much this. We also have a sports bar. There isn’t much for entertainment. A lot of people show up to cheer on the kids during sporting events. Our teams aren’t always that good but the stands are always full.”

Our food came and I was never so excited to eat. I was almost embarrassed how much I had ordered; a ham and cheese omelet with mushrooms and onions, a double order of homefries and four slices of toast. He had taken my warning to heart and decided on biscuits and gravy and homefries.

“Fighting works up an appetite?” He teased.

“I forgot to eat today. Mrs. Lewis caught me off guard this morning while I was still on my first cup of coffee.”

“That's right, unrelated males are a valuable commodity in these parts.” He was a sassy one with his sense of humor.

“Hey, you don’t know Mrs. Lewis. You could have been a 60 year old grandma and we would have still been over, first thing. Don’t worry, I’m sure she will be dragging you along too, in ten years when we get another new neighbor.” I was halfway through my potatoes and already contemplating if I needed a slice of pie.

“I’m hurt. You weren’t coming over to stake your claim on me?” He feigned injury.

“Oh, god no. I’m a hot mess. I’m here for the front row seat to the Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor.” I held my three fingers up in solidarity for District 11.

We finished our meal and I paid the bill, a welcome to the neighborhood dinner, of sorts. It made it especially awkward when Erin had scribbled her number on the back of the receipt in pink with a few hearts. I made sure to dramatically pass it along to Flynn.

Maybe it was the excitement of having my rather boring routine disrupted, but I was full of energy after I returned Flynn to where I had found him. I wanted to move. I tried to sit down and work on the novel I would never actually write. Instead of typing, I shifted and fidgeted. It was useless. I changed into my running shoes and headed out the door. It was still daylight for a few more hours, so I wasn’t breaking my oath and maybe I could burn off the energy.

Instead of heading out of town, I circled the familiar blocks in the village. Running had never been something I enjoyed. I usually ran out of guilt for neglecting to exercise for extended periods of time or to quell pent up frustrations. On very rare occasions, I might try to run out my anger. Not once did I like running or have fun running.

As my feet slipped into a steady rhythm, I felt amazing. There wasn’t the normal strain of my muscles or burning in my lungs. Instead, I felt like I was unstoppable. Of course, I couldn’t just accept that and had to find a reason for my sudden change. Was I in love? They say love does funny things to people. I couldn’t help but smile at myself. Yeah, that was not it. This wasn’t some cheesy romance novel where people instantaneously fell in love for no reason and readers just had to accept it.

I glanced up at the red light and started crossing the street, more interested in my thoughts than the traffic. To be fair, traffic wasn’t much of a concern in these parts. There was just a silver car I didn’t recognize, a silver car that was not slowing to a stop for the light, or pedestrian traffic apparently. I saw it coming, and froze. Then, I watched as it crashed right into me.