Pay attention

We were ten. She moved in a month ago and I had a crush I could feel in my toes. We adventured together...walking, skipping, running…stopping to look at cool stuff in the dirt. She told me that she was from Virginia, and that they had moved to Ohio because her dad had changed jobs. Her brother was two years her younger and she had a big sister, and I listened to every single word she said as she sped through her family history. As we turned to walk down a hardened path, a jogger came up quickly, startling us … “Pay attention” she breathed with a motherly inflection, her red Ohio State sweatshirt whipped by. I looked at Jane. “Did I ever tell you the time I went to Virginia for a wedding?” She looked at me quizzically with a shake and replied as she blew a strawberry curl off her forehead, “wait, what…really?”

“Yeah, I was heading down to see my friends from college get married. It was a day just like today. I was driving through West Virginia.” I explained, “love isn’t something to be pondered while going seventy miles an hour down a mountain, that’s for sure.” “Really,” Jane said sarcastically as she pulled up to a full stop. I told my story...

Uh huh, I had just received a very nicely worded letter that said I was no longer going to be in a relationship, and that, after it all, it wasn’t my fault. But just something that she needed to do. The miles wound out, stretching in front of and falling behind me…and I pondered. Groggy and twisted with the thoughts of the emotionally unkempt, I decided I needed a kick in the pants, so I looked for the nearest exit. It didn’t come quickly.

I had been driving for five hours or so and sleep was coming fast, so I was thrilled to see the upcoming off-ramp…but the road sign didn’t tell me much to inspire hope. The setting, barren, as I pulled to a “T” that gave me two choices. I looked left and took a right turn, mashing down the gas peddle hoping it wasn’t too long before I found civilization. I pulled into a dusty, gravel parking lot with a diner that resembled an old railroad car, thinking that some coffee, and maybe some conversation, would do me good.

Jane seemed intrigued as I continued, she leaned in, which I liked. “I’d say clean, but not sparkling, nice little place.” I looked at her and she shot back a skeptical but approving nod.

I came in through the glass door with the open sign hanging at a 45 degree angle. Jingle-jingle-jingle…the bells over the door announced my arrival. I noticed only a couple spots still open at the counter, so I decided to belly up. A burly middle-aged man worked head down at the grill and a waitress with flaming red hair came quickly. I thought of Mel’s Diner from the TV show. “What can I getcha hun?” as she cracked a wad of gum in her clenched jaw. She brought over the coffee and turned up a cup and asked, “where ya from?” “Cleveland,” I said with wide eyes and smile to accompany a tilted head. “Where ya goin?” I replied, “I’m heading to Richmond,” really thinking to myself that I didn’t know where the hell I was going. The man next to me, wearing faded and stained jeans with matching work boots, smiled almost knowingly and nodded as he slurped his coffee. I ordered a simple breakfast and said thank you.

Jane and I continued to walk toward a slowly moving stream with a small wooden footbridge. We sat down to dangle our feet and throw rocks, watching them splash. “When were you in West Virginia, wait…when were you driving?” Jane said. “It was in my other life,” I replied.” “Huh,” she said matter-of-factly, then she paused, “So what happened?”

I noticing a young man in a booth by himself, accompanied by a guitar plastered in worn stickers I couldn’t read or probably understand if I could. He stared out a dusty corner of glass, his finger tapping slowly on the rim of his coffee cup. The jingle-jingle-jingle above the metal frame came again. I spun around on my stool as the local sheriff strode to the middle of the now-bustling diner, he removed his dark sunglasses, looking concerned. He sighed and stuck a thumb in his belt, surveyed the crowd of fifteen or so. I looked down at the floor out of reflex.

“Any of you drive a silver Honda with Ohio plates?” he said gruffly. Everything stopped. “Shit,” I thought, my face flushed with panic. My stomach knotted instantly, racing thoughts tumbled in my head like the plunk, plunk of the stones Jane and I threw into the lazy current. My gut, now snug against my Adam’s apple, I raised my hand timidly. “Son, your lights are on” he said with a smirky tinge of you-should-know-better. I could hear a couple chuckles behind me as the regulars greeted “Sammy” and I headed out to my car. The bells clanked behind. I stopped dead in my tracks in front of my little Honda. Confused, I wondered why my lights were off.

I turned on a heel, looking up into nothing. Stepping back into the diner with a jingle, I looked to the counter, where the lawman was sitting in my seat, drinking my cup of coffee and eating my breakfast. The cop, the cook, the waitress, and half the counter had a loud chuckle to welcome me back. Even the dreamer in the booth seemed to wear a satisfied smile. The scent came to me before I heard her voice, “Come on over here,” came out of nowhere. A gentle hand was placed on my shoulder, “He’s prone to acts of random stupidity,” the young waitress said. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, save for a long strand across her forehead. She glided as she led me to where a booth was tucked around the corner. I slid down into the squeaky vinyl, with an uncomfortable smile from the prank pulled. “Your face was precious…it looked like somebody stole your Cheerios,” she said as she pinched my elbow, giving it a squeeze. “So besides the coffee, I’ll get you a menu,” she laughed easy and smiled even easier. She returned shortly with the menu and coffee, and promptly plopped down across from me and blew the long cure of dark hair from her brow. “So, what can I get you?" she said as I looked across the flecked flake plastic table, my senses still a little shaken. “Ok, whaddaya do then?” “I tell stories,” I spit out. “I bet you do,” she said, “I’ll give you a couple minutes to ponder”. “Janey,” her name tag read.

Just then I noticed the little black notebook wedged in the angle of the bright red vinyl booth bench I now occupied. Instinctively, my head jerked around to see if the crowd was planning another gag, but they seemed to have completely forgotten about me by then. Keeping the flimsy flip book camouflaged by my side, I lifted the cover to reveal only a few pages still attached to the winding spiral at the top. A single sentence read, “Fellow traveler, it's imperative you call this number 216-978-4382.” This time my head snapped up like I just got poked, face frozen, eyes darting back and forth. The number seemed oddly familiar.

“Whaddaya got there?” Janey said out of nowhere. “I don’t really know,” I said in all honesty. “Right, well I figured you should get what you asked for…eggs, bacon, rye toast.” She set the plate in front of me with a puff of her brown curl. “Thank you,” I said and added, “you guys have a payphone in here?” She looked down with skepticism, “sure thing, just down the hall there,” pointing over her shoulder with her thumb toward the bathrooms.

I took a piece of overly cooked bacon and crunched down on it with delight, still weighing what I had just uncovered. Digging into my pocket, I fished out two quarters and a matted ball of blue jeans lint. Still crunching bacon, I plopped the contents of my pocket next to my plate. Glancing between the quarters, the hallway and the rest of the room, I took a healthy swig of coffee and made up my mind that I would give the number a call with an audible “ahhhh.” Shaking my head, I slid a quarter off the table between my thumb and pointer.

After punching the prescribed number, a recording began with static, then a voice came over the line scratching out like a phonograph. “Traveler, you have made the leap…and the right decision. In your account, you will find the amount of twenty time ten times ten.” Click. I held the receiver up to my hear for what seemed to be minutes after that click. Thinking about it, it sounded more like a snap. Still stunned, I hung up and headed back to my cooling breakfast and flopped down into the bench seat. I felt thick, in slow motion, and as I picked up a tiny tub of Smucker’s Grape Jelly, Janey landed in the seat across from me. “Hope that’s not my tip,” the waitress said as she nodded to the lint and the remaining quarter, and topped off the coffee in my cup. My head cleared.

“Hey Janey, Whaddaya doin after this?” I asked.

Plunk.

“Wait … that’s it? So did you ever make it to Virginia?” Jane looked like she just got cheated out of first prize for best science project. “No, but I did get $20,000,” I said, pinching my shoulder to my ear in a shrug. She huffed and the strawberry curl jumped offer her forehead. We sat there for a long while, tossing rocks into the water as the sun shined down on us and warmed our foreheads. That was a really good day.