Page 53 of A Fine Line

“Of course, dear. Oh, where’s your friend?” Her eyes caught on the black backpack against my vanity, covered in different patches from Crews travels.

“Settling in.” …to my mattress.

“Right, well, you’re both coming to dinner tonight, yes?”

“Well, I thought maybe I’d take him to Riley’s tonight. You know, for the burgers and all. Since we’ll have Thanksgiving here and all of that.”

“Ahh, good girl. Well, I won’t keep you two.” She squeezed my hands in her always cold fingers. “I can’t wait to hear all about this man, Lottie told me on my way in he is a real looker.” Nana winked up at me exaggeratively just as I felt fingers lightly brushing the back of my ankle, Crews rough hands making small, fluid motions on the most sensitive exposed parts of my skin. Goosebumps instantly raised across my whole body and I felt everything inside of me tingle.

I squeaked a “Mm!” and gave one last hug. “Well, I need to get ready for dinner and all, so I will just-”

“Oh! Yes, yes, okay,” Nana blew two kisses my way and inched her way out of my door, before closing it gently.

When I heard his footsteps creek on the last step I fell to my knees and reached a hand under the bed frame to swat at Crew’s shaking shoulders. His laughter bubbled out as he grabbed my hand to stop me from my incessant pounding.

“You are sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Crew popped out from under the bed shoulders up. “Good, I don’t want any Marshall germs on me anyway.”

Turns out sleeping on the floor was a giant mistake. But I meant it with every part of my being when I said I wasn’t going to sleep in a bed where she and some asshole did who knew what.

During dinner at ‘Riley’s Diner’, which was less of a diner and much more of a sports bar that so happened to have tables and served bacon cheese fries, Winnie gave me her personal run down of the town. With each old couple, or group of highschoolers, or random farmer coming in to grab their dinner to go she introduced me to who they were, who they’ve been, and who they’re married to, dating, or fooling around with.

She wasn’t kidding about everyone knowing everyone. If Winnie sneezed then half of the restaurant shouted bless you, it’s like they all listened in on each other and everyone knew it so what’s the point in hiding it?

It was especially evident when I realized it wasn’t the standard southern hospitality for every person who walked in there to introduce themself to me.

Bo, Bob, Bill, Beau (who let me know specifically it was spelled with an e,a,u), Brandon, Bentley, and at least ten other ‘b’ nameshad stopped by our table to say hello before our appetizers even came out.

“You…have a lot of admirers.” I pointed out.

“Oh, that’s not for me.” Winnie sipped on her diet coke. “They’re all trying to decide if they like you or not.”

“Oh.” I craned my neck around the restaurant- where bras were hanging from the ceiling and a giant plaque rested above the wooden bar saying, ‘HOMETOWN OF FAMOUS COUNTRY SINGER: LEDGER CALLAHAN.’ I wasn’t a big country music guy myself, but the name sounded familiar. Surrounding the bar were men swamped in Carhartt attire and boots that were far dirtier than mine. The older ones glanced from me to the bar and back a multitude of times, their faces entirely neutral.

“What do you think?” I directed my attention to Win. “Do they?”

She smiled at me, glancing to the bar and back. “Who wouldn’t?”

We ate dinner at a slow pace, watching the people of Oak Ridge filter in and out, while she told me of the details of the town itself. No big grocery stores within forty minutes either way, if you wanted anything in particular that was beyond simple groceries you would have to order it online. She warned me of the towns obsession with groundhogs- and not in a cute way. In a ‘cussing mad’ way that she said had the very small population all in an uproar on their local what’s happening in oak ridge Facebook page. Apparently they dig too many holes, causing ruts and water build up in yards, and eat at garage doors. Who would’ve known?

We stayed until they closed at eleven o’clock, Winnie telling me everything she loved, and occasionally despised, about her hometown. When Riley herself, the owner of the diner, all but swept us out of the door, we decided to go home.

Sneaking into the main house: aka bumping around in the dark and trying to hide our far-too-loud fits of laughter when Winnie ran straight into a side table and almost knocked over a lamp was possibly my favorite part of the night.

But then when it came time for us to actually fall asleep, both exhausted from the plane ride and socializing with half of the town, Winnie climbed right onto her fortress of pillow and snuggled under three layers of warm blankets.

“I’ve got to change,” I whispered loud enough to reach her.

Eyes wide open she stared across at me. “What’s stopping you?”

“Your sneaky little eyes.”

“Does it help if I cover them?”

“No, because I know you’re peeking behind it.”

She shrugged in the dark. “Fair.”

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