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“I’m um. A screenwriter, apparently,” she said.
“Why do you sound so embarrassed about it?” Wayne asked.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m not. I guess I’m almost proud of what I do,” she returned.
“But only almost.”
“Are you proud of your job?” Elise asked.
“The fact that I opened a coffee shop on Mack and built it from the ground up? Damn right, I’m proud,” Wayne said. “We’re the number one ranked on Trip Advisor in the area.”
“That confidence. Can I buy it online?” Elise asked.
Wayne chuckled. “No, but seriously. I don’t know why you wouldn’t be proud of that. That’s a really cool gig. I take it you’re from California?”
“Yes. Born and raised,” Elise offered. “And you?”
“I was born in Mackinaw City and spent all my summers here on the island,” Wayne said. He stretched his hands outward and gestured around him. “These people you see around you? They’re my family. Or, practically family. They’re both seasonal workers and people who live on the island year-round. They’re the best people I know in the world.”
Elise turned her eyes around the packed bar. Everyone seemed either on the verge of telling a joke, in the middle of telling one, or just post-listening, in the midst of uproarious laughter. The televisions that hung on the walls illuminated various sports teams, fried foods soaked on platters, half-eaten and usually forgotten for the sake of conversation. There was a warmth to the place that California lacked.
“What part of California are you from?” he asked.
“Los Angeles. Calabasas, if you know it,” Elise said.
“Not really,” Wayne said. “Although I’m sure it’s beautiful. I went to California exactly once when I was twenty. We drove down Highway 1.”
“A classic drive,” Elise said. “I did it only once as well, with my girlfriends the summer after my freshman year of college. I remember how it felt. Like everything was so open and free.”
“See. You are a writer,” Wayne said with a nod. “I can feel it in what you say.”
“Thank you,” Elise said, blushing again. “I guess I always wanted to be. Maybe that’s enough.”
They finished their first drinks, which allowed them to switch off to what they “normally” drank—taking a break from the head-punch of the Rum Runner. Elise ordered a glass of white wine, while Wayne ordered a beer. They cheered glasses once again, and Wayne laughed at how relieved she looked.
“It’s not like I didn’t like it,” Elise said. “It’s just that I know it’s a hangover in a glass.”
“Now that, my friend, is true,” Wayne said.
Were they already friends? Elise furrowed her brow for a split-second, just as the bar roared with joy at some baseball player who hit a ball. Suffice it to say, Elise had never been particularly mesmerized with sports. She had tolerated them on her television when Sean had been around; now that she was divorced, her TV was a constant rotation of whatever-the-hell-she-wanted, thank-you-very-much.
“Did I lose you there for a second?” Wayne asked.
Oh, but she would watch sports with Wayne if he wanted that.
What? No! She couldn’t think this way. He was just a stranger.
“No. Sorry. Just thinking,” she said with a smile.
“It’s especially wild here tonight,” Wayne said. “I think because it’s the end of the summer season. In just a few weeks, everything will be much different. The tourists go back to their normal lives in various pockets of the Midwest, and we stay here and watch the leaves change and enjoy the waters. It’s totally different. It slows to a crawl, but I love it.” He tilted his head and said, “Did you say when you’re leaving?”
Elise shook her head. “I made almost no plans.”
She had literally told her daughter a week. Still, she hadn’t booked any flights.
There was the rental car to consider.
But right then, she didn’t care at all.
