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Jaded Hollow, OH – 6 miles ahead
I RELEASE A SIGH, exhausted and nervous about the next stop on my long and tedious journey.
I’ve been driving since eight this morning, with a couple of stops for restroom breaks and gas. It’s coming up on nine at night. I need to keep moving. I don’t want to give him the opportunity to find me. Him being Steven, my worst nightmare, my worst fear, my husband. Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice in the matter because my car is running on fumes, and I’m getting low on cash. I need to find a way to make a little money before I move on.
My shoulders hurt from holding on to the steering wheel for so long, and my legs are cramping from the constant push on the gas pedal. I’m so hungry I fear my internal organs will dry up and turn to dust due to lack of nourishment. My eyes feel gritty, and I’m worried I might doze off behind the wheel.
Needless to say, I’m ready to get out of my cramped car. All I want to do is get a quick bite to eat, take a shower, and sleep for a week. I know finding a place to eat won’t be a problem. I’ve seen signs for Maggie's Diner up ahead in Jaded Hollow that states it’s open until ten. It’s finding a place to crash that’ll be an issue.
With fifty dollars to my name, I can’t even afford to rent a motel for the night. Sleeping in my cramped car is definitely not appealing, but I’ve done it before, and I’m prepared to do it again. I only hope I can find work in this small town that is to be my home for a short amount of time. Sleeping in my car for a few nights I can deal with, but I really don't want to wake up with a crick in my neck and cramps in my legs every day for weeks until I can afford a place to stay.
It’s dark out so I can't really see the landscape around me. From what I can see from the light of the moon and the shine of my headlights, I’m surrounded by woods. The road is curvy and there’re a few small hills.
I slow my car when I reach a wooden sign that welcomes me to Jaded Hollow, Ohio. It looks old and the scene on it depicts the country town I’m about to enter; a farmhouse with silos sitting behind it and a field of corn.
I speed back up, anxious to reach my destination. About a mile past the welcome sign, I start taking notice of my surroundings. It’s important to familiarize myself with where I’ll be staying just in case I need to flee again. He may come for me, and I need to know where I’ll be safe.
Big houses with bright porch lights start appearing. Many of them are at least a couple hundred feet from the road and sit on large amounts of land.
Farther down the road, bright orange street lights dot both sides. Smaller houses start popping up on either side of the road, with businesses thrown in here and there. There’s a post office on one side and an outdoors shop on the other.
There’s also the Jaded Hollow Public Library; a red brick building with a large, colorful book statue that sits right out front. There’s a gazebo off to the left and a small playground right beside it. I can picture a mother sitting in the gazebo reading her book as a little girl swings close by. With the image in my head, my stomach cramps, and my eyes sting. I immediately push the picture away before it has the chance to cripple me.
As I slow down to a stop at what appears to be the only red light in town, I notice a building housing three motorcycles and several cars. The building sits on the corner of County Road 14 and Big Bulge Road. There are several lit signs on the windows and the front of the white building, most of which are advertising different types of beer. The largest sign reads “Jaxon's Pub.”
The light turns green, and I creep along. Up ahead on the left there’s a big white sign with the words Maggie's Diner in red letters written on it. Several cars are parked in front of the light blue building.
I park my car next to an old red pickup truck, pull the key out of the ignition, and lay my head back on the headrest. Not only is my car running on empty, but I am as well. With a deep breath, I force myself to grab my purse and drop my keys inside. The air is nippy when I step out of my car, so I grab my Cookie Monster sweatshirt and slip it on.
As I approach the entrance, a man appears out of nowhere and startles me. Taking a quick step back, I automatically allow my russet brown hair to fall in front of my face on the right side. This is born out of habit from trying to hide the hideous scar that runs from the corner of my right eye to my ear. People tend to stare, which makes encounters uncomfortable. To avoid any tense moments, I learned real quick to hide behind a wall of hair anytime I’m in the vicinity of people.
I peek at him from under my eyelashes. He looks to be in his early thirties. His black ballcap hat is turned backward and dark hair peeks out along the edges. I can’t really see in the low light, but it appears he has dark eyes and sports a five o'clock shadow. His dark gray t-shirt with a black thermal shirt underneath give way to bulging muscles. He also has on a pair of worn formfitting blue jeans and a pair of tan work boots. Overall, he’s a very good looking man. In another time and place, I would have really appreciated his looks. But not now. I never want anything to do with a man again. All they ever do is hurt me.
When I glance at him, he smiles and says, “Hey. Sorry if I startled you.” His voice is rough, but still holds a smooth edge to it.
I duck my head a little and reply, “That's okay. I'm just a little jumpy.”
He grabs the handle to the door, opens it, and gestures for me to enter. “Ladies first.”
I notice the hand that holds the handle has a black and blue web tattoo. It starts at the center of the back of his hand and extends all the way to his fingers. I can’t see his palm, but I’m pretty sure that the tattoo continues to wrap around the front of his hand. The webbing also wraps around each of his fingers. I briefly wonder what the significance of it is, but then shake my head. It’s none of my business.
When I walk inside the diner, it looks like one you would see in movies and TV shows. It has a long white counter that has attached red vinyl stools in front of it. Behind the counter is all the kitchen equipment a business needs, and two waitresses wearing red aprons. One has to be in her mid-twenties, while the other in her late fifties to early sixties. A middle-aged man and woman sits at the counter eating.
Looking around the rest of the restaurant, I notice booths with red vinyl benches and white tables. Several of the booths are occupied by a variety of people. One holds a young teenage couple, another has a couple of older men, and the third a lone female drinking a cup of coffee.
The walls are littered with various pictures of people in their everyday life. One is of a couple of kids on a swing set. Another is a black-and-white photo of a man and a woman lying on a hammock, wrapped in each other’s arms. There’s also an old black and white picture of a man and a woman standing in front of a building that looks like Maggie's Diner a hundred years ago.
The man who startled me walks in and the bell on the door rings when it shuts. He heads toward the end of the counter where a portion of it lifts up. The younger waitress squeals as she runs from behind the counter and literally jumps on the guy. She wraps her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and has an enormous smile on her face. Holding her up with one hand on her butt, he grabs a handful of hair and slams his mouth down on hers.
I hear some chuckles from some of the patrons. The older waitress still behind the counter smiles indulgently at the pair. “Alright you two, break it up. Anna, you get back to work, and you,” she says, pointing to the man, “go have a seat, and I'll bring you a nice steaming cup of coffee.”
After another minute of tongue action, the couple reluctantly breaks apart. They’re standing there staring into each other’s eyes when the man smiles hugely. “Hey, Anna Banana.”
“Hi, Nick,” the waitress replies in a breathy voice, her smile just as big as his. You can tell these two people are irrevocably in love. For a few seconds, it makes me wish I could find what they have, but I know it’s rare and not meant for me.
I move away from the couple and go to one of the booths in the corner. I drop my purse on the seat, sit down, and grab the plastic menu. I’m not real picky on what I eat, as long as it doesn’t taste like sawdust or have a beating heart. I’m pretty desperate for any food at this point.
