"Okay," I say. And just like that, everything changes.
4
The drive out to Hope Valley is long. I leave at 7 am, saying bye to Mom who's due to work a double shift that day. I know she wishes she could come with me, but in a way I'm glad to be going alone. Mom has history with this side of my family that I don't really want to get entangled in right now. I pack sweet tea and dry snacks, which is about all I can stomach, and Mom shoves a sandwich wrapped in brown paper into my bag just in case I get hungry. Crossing state lines makes my destination feel even further. I call Uncle Walter when I'm an hour away, and we schedule to meet at a diner in town at 5 pm.
Nothing looks familiar as I drive down Main Street. Either I don't remember this place, or everything's changed since I was last here. It's busier than I imagined, and it takes me a while to find a place to park. I can't see the diner that Walter mentioned, but I stagger out of the car, taking time to stretch my cramped body, figuring I'll find it on foot. I'm desperate to pee and covered in crumbs, which I swipe off my t-shirt and jeans.
I wonder what Uncle Walter will think of me after all this time. Do I look like he imagines I will? Will he even recognize me? I'm pretty sure I'll still recognize him. I wonder if he still dresses the same in black t-shirts with skulls or rock band motifs and jeans that slot right under his round belly.
I slam my car door shut and lock it securely. I've got my bag in the trunk and I don't want anyone running off with so many of my worldly possessions.
As I'm making my way to the sidewalk, a truck passes and honks the horn. A loud whistle followed by a whole lot of whooping makes me jump. Another truck follows, and it beeps its horn. I catch sight of a gorgeous man in the front, leaning half out the window. "Hey, pretty girl," he shouts, which is followed by more whoops. Before I have a chance to scowl, they're gone, but I'm sure I see a few heads in the back seat turn to look at me.
An older woman gives me a wry smile. "Men are all the same," she says. "Don't take any notice of them. They don't mean anything by it. They're good boys, really."
"You know them?"
She nods. "They live just outside of town. Been through a lot."
I smile politely, but inside I'm thinking that going through a lot shouldn't excuse catcalling strangers on the street. "I'm heading to Nolan's Diner. Is it close?"
"Sure, it's just a little further along there." She points in the direction the trucks went.
"Okay, thanks."
I'm around fifteen minutes late by the time I arrive and use the diner’s restroom, and Uncle Walter is already here waiting patiently. I notice him right away in a corner booth, even though he has aged since I last saw him. He is wearing a black band t-shirt, and although I can't see his lower half, I'd put good money on a bet that he's wearing low-slung jeans. His eyes are on the menu, but as I get closer, he glances up. I see the moment of recognition. "Maggie?" he says with awe in his voice. "Oh my God, you look just like your mom." He stands and slides out of the booth, grabbing me by the shoulders so he can look me over. "I just… where the hell does the time go?" When he tugs me into a fierce hug, I hug him back, reliving a memory of the day we left Hope Valley all those years ago.
Uncle Walter has aged, but not too badly. He's still the same shape, but his hair is a little thinner on top, and his laughter lines are more pronounced. When he lets me go, I take a small step back. He's familiar, but after so much time, this all feels strange. "Here, take a seat. You must be famished."
We slide into the booth opposite one another, and I rest my purse on the seat next to me. "What do you want to drink?" Uncle Walter has an empty bottle of beer in front of him.
"Just an iced tea," I say.
He waves at the waitress, who comes quickly to take our order. It isn't busy in the diner at this time; it's late for lunch but early for dinner.
"Was the drive okay? I was worried about you."
"It was fine. Tiring but okay."
"And how are you feeling… about, you know… the news?"
I shake my head and shrug. "It's… I just don't know. I mean…" Trailing off, I gaze out of the window, watching the steady stream of traffic pass us by. How many times did my dad drive down this very street? How many times did he sit in this diner? So much time has gone by, and I'll never know enough about his life.