“Stephanie, I just got into town and my firm rented me a room at the Glendale Motel. Are there any other places around, or is that the only one?”
She nods. “That’s the only place for about 75 miles,” she says in her thick country accent.
I feel my shoulders slump. “There are no towns or cities for 75 miles?” I ask, confused and worried.
“That’s right. We’re sort of in the middle of nowhere,” she says as she begins to wipe down the bar.
“So where does everyone eat? Is there only the one diner?”
Again, she nods. “But we have a kitchen too. I mean, it’s limited, but if you’re just wanting a burger and some fries, it’s better than nothing.”
My mouth waters at the thought of a burger and fries. “A salad?” I ask, feeling hopeful.
She smiles. “That’s even better, because Sam won’t have to fire up the grill.” She turns away from me. “Hey, Sam! I need a salad!” She turns back to me. “What kind of dressing?”
I shrug, not even caring if I have dressing. “Whatever you have,” I say, almost giddy at the thought of food.”
A swinging door in the back opens. “Got it,” says a man I’m assuming is Sam.
“So, where ya from?” Stephanie asks.
“Los Angeles,” I answer, taking another painful sip of my drink. The vodka burns my throat. I pray it goes numb soon.
She gives me a sidelong glance. “And you volunteered to come here?” Her brows pull together as she watches me.
I move my head from side to side. “I didn’t volunteer. I’m a city girl through and through, but I was promised a promotion when I return in a year.”
“You’re staying here for a year?” she asks, adding on a whistle. “I couldn’t imagine staying in that rundown motel for a year.”
I snort. “Right? I have to find something else. You know of anyone renting out a room, apartment, or couch?” I joke about the last part.
She bites her lower lip. “We don’t have any apartment buildings in town. It’s mostly just big groups of families. The younger people usually move out of town to go to college. The older folks have been where they’re at for a lifetime now. Houses usually don’t go up for sale or rent here either. They’re passed down from one generation to the next. Anyone new usually builds their own house. There are some people who have built little apartments on their property though. Like, I live in an apartment above a barn. And my boyfriend turned his family shed into a tiny house. We all just do what we can.”
I lightly bang my head against the bar and she laughs. “I’ll keep an eye out for you though.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
My salad comes out and is placed in front of me. I waste no time diving in. It’s not the butter lettuce salad with dried organic cranberries and creamy French feta from Joan’s on Third, but it will do. I pour on the oil and vinegar dressing and shovel it in. The lettuce is fresh and crisp, and the veggies taste better than I could’ve imagined.
“This is amazing,” I say around a mouthful.
Stephanie nods. “I know. Every ingredient is homegrown. That’s one good thing about country living.” She smiles and winks at me.
“What about coffee?”
“We have coffee and so does the diner. No coffee shops though.”
At that, I want to throw myself down on the ground and kick and scream until I’m given my way, but I refrain. “A gym?”
She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Nope.”
“Movie theater, mall, or salon?”
“Nope, nope, and yes! Jenna Lindon runs a salon out of her garage. She does real good work.” She nods as she points to her head. “She did these highlights for me a few weeks ago. Not expensive either.” She leans against the bar. “She makes monthly trips to the beauty supply down in Campbell, where she gets dyes and bleach. She even does nails.” She holds her hand out to show me her manicure.
“Does she have a license?” I ask, a little worried about some random woman doing my highlights. I’d die if my hair fell out due to inexperience.
She nods her head vigorously. “She does. She lived in Chicago for a time, but it didn’t work out. So she moved back here and the ladies of this town have never been happier.”
I smile but continue to eat. This town is literally like some forgotten part of the map. Why do people want to live here? Don’t they want cell phones that work? Wouldn’t it be easier to just order something from Postmates than to have to drive over an hour out of town to reach civilization? I’ll never understand small towns or the people who choose to live in them.
I’m happy to see that Stephanie and I are hitting it off so well though. I was told that it’s needed for this job. I need to get to know and become friends with every single person in this town if I want my job to be as easy as possible. I had no idea what that meant—and still don’t—but I think it just means that to get anywhere in this town, I need to be liked by everyone. I have a feeling the locals stick together. If one of them doesn’t like something, then none of them will like it. Since I’m needing to get an expansion approved by the city, I need the city to like me.
When I finish my salad, I look around and find that everyone who was once staring at me has now lost interest. There’s one guy sitting at the end of the bar, watching TV. Two others are playing a game of pool. And the last one is falling asleep on the bar.
I point in his direction. “Is he okay?” I ask Stephanie.
She waves him off. “It’s Jerry’s bedtime. I’m sure his wife will be here soon to pick him up.”
“This happen often?” I ask, finishing off my drink.
She nods. “Daily. She drops him off in the morning on her way to work. He sits here and drinks his breakfast, then he has a burger for lunch and drinks the rest of the afternoon.” She shrugs as she tosses a towel at his head. “Wake up, Jerry. Your wife will be here soon.”
He groans and sits up, but is having a hard time keeping his eyes open.
“Remember what she said the last time she caught you sleeping on the bar?” Stephanie reminds him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles as he wipes his hand down his face and stands. Without another word, he walks off to the bathroom.
Stephanie walks back over, laughing and shaking her head. “You want another drink?”
“No, I think I’m just going to go back to my shitty motel room and take a long, hot shower. I’ve been on the road since Monday, and I could use a little rest before getting to work tomorrow.”
She nods as she hands over my bill. For my drink and salad, the total is only five dollars. “Five dollars?” I ask, surprised.
She nods. “Yeah, why?”
“In Los Angeles, this would’ve cost at least $14!”
She laughs. “I guess you found the second good thing about living here, huh?”
My money is still on the bar, so I leave it and tell her to keep the change.
“Thanks,” she says with a wide smile as she begins cleaning my place at the bar.
“I’ll see you soon, I’m sure. Something tells me I’ll see a lot of everyone in a town this small.”