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Awkward jazz hands were never good
(Blakely)
A few hours later I was walking briskly toward the pub.
I had planned to go just before dark, but because of the stupid trees the area went from dusk to total darkness so fast I had to run back to the cabin to dig a flashlight from my pack to carry with me.
As I walked I ruminated: I needed to get a flight to Los Angeles, I needed to rent a car. I needed groceries.
Things that were simple in LA were difficult here. Like walking. I stumbled over a dark rise that I hadn’t seen coming in the flashlight beam. I was on the shoulder, but soon realized there wasn’t enough traffic to worry about it, so I walked down the middle of the road.
When I neared the intersection I decided to get some food from the convenience store. That way, for once, Liam wouldn’t be the person ordering, picking up, or paying for our meals. I entered, setting the bell dinging, and the woman behind the counter squinted, unable to place me. I reminded her, “I was here like ten days ago. I asked you for a way to charge my phone.”
“Oh yeah, I thought I recognized you. How’d it turn out?”
I thought about really laying into her, yelling, telling her how she broke my phone, and dumping all the trouble she caused right on her lap — like what kind of woman doesn’t help another woman at night in a darkened town?
But then I thought, nah, she had her own shit to deal with. I decided to let it go.
A lot of good had happened to me since.
And if I really thought about it, if she had let me charge my phone, the whole night might have turned out differently.
I might not have met Liam.
And he was really great.
I said, “Thanks for recommending the pub, Liam helped me get it all sorted out.”
She shrugged. “That the new owner of the pub? Nice enough guy, though he laid off all those employees, real shame about his dad.”
“Oh, yeah, it is.”
She went back to watching the TV on the wall behind the counter.
I strolled over to the food aisle. There wasn’t much to eat but I was famished so anything would do: A dusty box of Ritz crackers on a shelf. In the refrigerator section, a not-expired round of bologna and a can of spray cheese. A giant water bottle. On the candy aisle, a couple of Cadbury milk chocolate bars.
I eyed the ice cream in the freezer but decided I could return for it after the bologna and crackers, to be sensible.
On my way to the counter I added a big bag of Doritos to my full arms; I didn’t normally eat them but they looked so delicious. I balanced a jar of nacho cheese dip on the very top and held it steady with my chin.
I shoved it all to the counter and used my new debit card, the one my assistant, Karrie, had ordered from the bank and had delivered to the cabin while I was on the hike, to pay for it.
She had also sent a new iPhone. Note to self: give Karrie a raise.
Then I carried the sacks of junk food across the road to Liam’s pub, the sad sign swinging over the desolate parking lot: Stay A While Pub.
Och nae, I thought, poor Liam. Then I chuckled because he was right, the Och Nae Pub was a much better name.
* * *
As soon as I pushed in through the door, Liam said, “Welcome, Woodshee!”
My eyes adjusted to the dimness to see him smiling behind the bar. There wasn’t a customer to be seen.
I raised the bags. “I brought dinner!”
He wiped a bar towel over the bar. “Do ye want a beer?”
