Page 7 of Truck

When I resigned from my job, my boss, Thomas Bloomfield, knew it was coming. He could feel the way I needed to move away from the loss and gave me a glowing reference for any future employer I approached. My job as a financial manager was a good one, and it helped Terrence and me get the house and a decent amount of savings. We never spent my salary, relying on his income as a data scientist. Terrence had a good salary, and as he advanced in his company, the salary increased along with it.

Climbing out of the truck, I walk to the front door and open it using the key I’ve had in my pocket since leaving the realtor’s office on Main Street here in town. The place smells of cleaning agents, but it’s not that cheap lemon smell that you often get. It’s more like lavender, which smells fresh.

The house is small, with a kitchen that includes a dining area. A living room, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. It has a small laundry room with a stacking washer, dryer, a sink, and a cabinet for housing brooms and such like.

For one person, it is ideal. It will be easy to keep clean, and it’s near enough to town that I can walk. I sold Terrence’s SUV because it held too many memories of days out, picnics, and making out at Lookout Point.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I walk back outside and grab the first of the boxes. I don’t have too many but wanted to keep the things that mean the most to me. I have kept some of Terrence’s things that we bought together, or that I gave him as gifts. They are boxed and labeled, and I’ll place them in the second bedroom until such a time as I know what to do with them. For now, they are my comfort blankets that I can hold and feel close to his memory.

Two hours later, I open the fridge and give it a quick wipe clean. Now it’s ready for the groceries that I need to buy. I trashed everything from the fridge, freezer, and cabinets when I left the house, and now I’m thinking maybe that was a mistake. But there is no point dwelling on it.

I grab my jacket, pick up the truck keys, and head out. I need to get enough food to set me up for a few days. There must be a grocery store close by and maybe a Costco, or Walmart or such for when I do the bulk buying of what I need, but not today.

After parking in the lot for the small grocery store, I give smiles to people who give me a small smile, and for that alone I like the townsfolk. Stepping inside the store, I grab a cart and wander down the first aisle. I put a few items into the cart and move along. Reaching the fridge, I pick out butter, yogurt, milk, two packs of deli ham and turkey. I grab two pre-made sandwiches and a pack of cheese before moving along and load up the cart with water, Gatorade, iced tea, and soft drinks.

I pick everything else from shelves as I pass down aisles, and I’m thinking this is going to be expensive, and it will require a few trips from the truck to the house.

Once I’m okay with what I have in the cart, I quickly check out and head for the truck. I’m feeling more than a little tired and know it’s time to get back to the house and eat before I start to feel ill.

Back at the house I get everything inside, put it away in the fridge and cabinets then take one of the sandwiches and an iced tea into the living room and sit on the sofa. My mind is whirling with so many things while I eat and drink that I’m not sure which thought to address first. House, job, return the rental truck, find a vehicle for me? Maybe it is a thought for tomorrow.

After checking I’ve locked up, I head to bed, not even showering as I’m so tired. Throwing on a pair of boy-short pj’s I climb into bed after I've made it because I’d forgotten about that chore earlier and fall asleep as soon as my head touches the pillow.

Morning arrived, and I had toast and a mug of coffee before walking into town. The walk had only taken me around fifteen minutes, and the fresh morning air made me feel good.

Stopping at the grocery store that states it is owned by Bert and Bernice Battershaw, I walk inside. Looking around, I see no bulletin board or anything that would display things being sold or job vacancies.

A gentleman, I presume because he’s wearing an apron, is the owner. “Are you looking for something particular?”

“I was looking for a bulletin board or somewhere you may advertise things for sale or jobs available,” I quickly reply, giving a small smile as I do so.

“Oh, we have nothing like that. But if you walk down the street, you’ll come across Mrs. Willoughby’s grocery store, and she has a bulletin board. It’s a fair walk, as it’s on the opposite side of Main Street.”

“Thank you. I don’t mind the walk. I appreciate you giving me the information,” I quickly say before heading out the door and setting off for the other grocery store.

It’s interesting to look in the store windows as I pass. I note the ones that I may need in the future, and I keep looking up when I hear throaty motorcycles passing every now and again. It seems the people around here like motorcycles, since nobody stops to look at them as they pass.

Eventually, I find the grocery store and step inside. It is laid out differently from the first grocery store I visited this morning, but the bright smile I receive from the woman behind the register has me involuntarily smiling back. Obviously, her smile is infectious.

I spot the bulletin board at once and step over to it. I had expected nothing in my usual line of work to be on the board, and honestly, I am happy to step away from that for a while. Do something different, something that will help me meet people and make friends.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

Turning, I replied to her. “I’m looking for a job where I’ll meet people and make friends.” I am surprised at myself for repeating what I had just been thinking.

The woman smiles. “I’m Mrs. Willoughby, the owner of this store. I know most people in town, and with you being new I can understand why you’d want a job like that. You need to speak with Shelby at the diner. She has a vacancy as Cilla finished when she was having her baby girl, Ayla. Now, she’s a real cutie pie. The baby that is. It’s a good job, with a good boss. You’ll meet a lot of the townsfolk and make friends, I’m sure.”

“Why, thank you, Mrs. Willoughby. I’ll take a walk over to the diner and speak to Shelby. Oh, can you point me in the right direction?” I grin because I’ve no idea where the diner is, and to walk out blind would have been ridiculous.

Mrs. Willoughby walks to the door before pointing down a street across the main road. “Go down that street. It’s a fair way, it may take you fifteen minutes or so walking. It is on the right side of the road with a large parking lot out front. Tell Shelby I sent you.”

“Oh, thank you very much,” I let her hear my appreciation for the help in my voice as I set out to the diner, and hopefully a job.

It took me twenty minutes to reach the diner. It was a long street, with a mix of small stores and houses. I like it. It feels like a community, one that has developed over many years. The town had at one time been adding on a store here, a few houses next, then another store. It’s nothing like what I’ve seen before. A small town with a tight community. I hope they will allow me to become one of them given time.

When I open the door to the diner heads turn and people smile, or nod a greeting before turning back to what they are eating, drinking, or a conversation they were having.

I reach the counter and take a seat. There are four seats at the counter, and it gives a feeling of the sixties about it. A woman steps over to her side of the counter and smiles. “What can I get for you?”