No sooner had I closed the door on the ice stocked fridge, the surviving perishables returned to its chilly embrace, than I heard the door open.
I took a deep breath and turned around. “Hey, Dad. Want some lunch?”
Chapter Five - Elise
It was like a steel drum band playing a concert in my head. A sensation not helped by the stiff cracking of my neck. The position that had seemed so comfortable the night before had proven to be a two-faced jerk.
Struggling the lid off the bottle of painkillers permanently in the glovebox, I necked two of them dry. Food or drink were two things it hadn’t occurred to me to get during my supply run.
“Oh, hush, you,” I scolded my tummy as it started to moan.
The last thing I needed was heckles from the peanut gallery while I tried to get my muddled thoughts together. Things became clearer when I put my glasses on, though it wasn’t all good. My phone was dead. Long live my phone.
Kicking off the blankets, I left them in a mess as I set about solving several problems at once. Nothing like a crisis to bring about focus of energies and calmness of mind. At least in my case.
Keeping well behind the seats, I changed my clothes down to the foundation garments, already starting to feel better. Getting my shoes tied, I went around to the driver’s side to start up, tenderly plugging my phone in as soon as the engine was at a good chug. The poor dear really had been through the wringer and would likely need a new battery soon. The one it came with getting to its last legs, which was at least partly my fault with how relentlessly I ran it.
The rumble in my stomach would no longer be ignored. I would have to eat soon if I wanted to be in any fit state to drive. The last thing I needed was a car wreck on top of everything else.
The sign glowed like a beacon in the early light. I’d been past the roadside diner countless times over my life but had never been inside. My parents weren’t snobs by any stretch of the imagination.
It wasn’t the greasy spoon nature of Doc’s that would have put them off, so much as the idea of eating out in general. A reluctance they had passed down to me, as part of the general family trait toward thrift. Under most circumstances, I would never have considered such a thing, but needs must.
What a state I must have looked. At least I was clean, which would probably keep most from thinking I was some kind of street kid. Still, things had been better. There were dark circles under my eyes from sleepless nights, trying to keep my grades up. My hands also shook from the caffeine pills that had made the all-nighters possible. Or, more accurately from the withdrawal.
It had been more than 24 hours since the last dose, and my body was rebelling hard. It was the hardest thing about the whole situation. Not only having to leave school, where I was just starting to settle in, but how suddenly it had all stopped, with no real indication of when or if it was going to start again. Giving me the feeling that the whole thing had been for nothing.
I did my best to maintain control as I was led to a booth by a pleasant woman in her mid-20s who didn’t look at me twice. Her nametag read Melanie, and she had a look of seen it all, about her.
Melanie swished efficiently to the kitchen, leaving me alone with the menu and a glass of ice water. I would have eaten anything put in front of me at that point, but it was still nice to be given a choice. The menu was impressively diverse, offering extensive combo meals at a minimal cost. It had been the right place after all.
“Have you decided?” Melanie asked, coming back, pad in hand.
I was struck by her pure blue eyes and hair so blond it was almost white. She looked almost elven, as if she’d stepped off the set of a Tolkien adaptation, ditched the pointy ears, and donned an apron.
“The Big Six,” I managed to say without my teeth chattering.
“Excellent choice,” she said, with a trace of an Oregon accent.
Making the note, she was gone, leaving me alone once again, though feeling better about things. There were some people who could just do that, at least in my limited experience. It was a rare gift, one possessed by Amber, and nice to encounter when it happened.
The phrase ‘greasy spoon’ really was a misnomer. At least it could be. The food delivered to my table at Doc’s some of the best I’d ever tasted. As well as being filling and not at all greasy. Even the sausages, where a bit of grease was to be expected.