Page 96 of Sweet Caroline
“Trust me. I used to eat them all the time in Australia. You haven’t lived until you’ve had seaweed on a hot dog.”
“Alright, I’m game.”
As we head to the hot dog stand, Jesse gives me a sidelong glance. He hesitates another few moments before he breaks the silence. “Hey, uh, this is super weird, but… you look so much like someone I know. It’s tripping me out.”
“Oh, yeah?” I shrug. “People say I look like my brother, Jude.”
Jesse stops in his tracks, yanking up his mask to rest on his black bandana. “You’re Jude’s brother? No fucking way!”
“You know him?”
Jesse’s eyes go wide. “Uh, I work for him!”
“Fuck all the way off. You serious?”
“This town, man.” Jesse shakes his head, then inspects me again as we resume our quest for the hot dog stand. “I was gonna say, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him wear that exact shirt.”
“Thisishis fucking shirt!” I pinch the plaid flannel. “I borrowed it formy costume.”
Jesse laughs. “What the shit?”
“I know!”
We pay for our food and find a bench near the stand to sit down and eat. I marvel at the unexpectedly delicious combination of flavors on my tongue. “Shit, thisisgood.”
“I know, right?” Jesse asks before taking another bite. He chews for a few moments before talking around his mouthful. “So, what do you do for work?”
“Construction.”
“So safe to assume that’s not how you met Caroline?”
“No, we, uh…” I pause, settling on the simplest explanation. “We met at the gym. A few weeks ago.”
Jesus. Has it only been that long?
My mind sifts through everything the last few weeks have brought—how Caroline has opened up my world just as much as I’ve opened up hers. I must look like I’m on another planet as we eat, because the sound of Jesse crumpling up his hot dog wrapper and chucking it into a nearby trash can eventually interrupts my thoughts.
I take the last bite of my hot dog and push off the bench to toss out my garbage.
“Is that smoke?” Jesse asks, tilting his chin. He sniffs the air.
“Where?” I swallow and scan the crowd. I can’t smell anything other than the hot dog I just ate, but the energy around us starts to shift. Worried murmurs intersperse with a few indistinct shouts. With a quick glance at Jesse, I reorient my gaze to follow his.
Someone runs past us.
“Shit, is that—” he mumbles, then more urgently, “is that the fucking haunted house?”
In the distance, the old barn flickers in a distinct orange glow and a dark gray plume steadily rises into the night sky, lit from below.
No.
Jesse’s already taking off running, dodging the throngs of people now streaming in the opposite direction. “Ada!Ada!”
It’s his terrified shouts that finally cut through my frozen state and get my feet moving—a jog at first, then a sprint.
Caroline.
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