Page 6 of Show Me How to Heal
In fact, I hadn’t listened to most of the things my brother had told me during the last couple of months. He’d always wanted to help, and I’d… I’d wanted to be independent.
By the time I managed to exit my car, my knee was throbbing angrily, and I’d broken into a sweat. Me. A former pro-athlete started sweating because apparently getting out of a car now qualified as a work-out. At least the actual walking part was far easier. I’d had over a year to get used to it. In the beginning, the sore muscles in my arms had nearly killed me. By now, I could walk miles on crutches without a problem, my PT and I’d made sure of that.
I looked from left to right, and back to the left.
There was a diner, but I wasn’t hungry. Besides, I doubted there’d be healthy options. Diners were a little like fast food restaurants, right? The options were either greasy, sugary, or generally unhealthy. Weren’t they?
I’d need to find out.
Later.
First, I needed to get the fucking bear spray before I encountered a bear. I wasn’t a fast runner anymore.
The hairdresser wouldn’t have bear spray, and I doubted either the flower shop or the bookstore would have any, either. Were there any plants that were naturally repellant to bears?
I’d have to look it up. I wouldn’t just barge into the flower shop and ask the people there; otherwise, everyone would soon know about the crazy foreigner asking stupid questions. No, that’s what the internet was for.
Answering stupid questions… and porn.
I eyed the hardware store. Bear spray was sold in camping stores. In Germany, you could buy camping gear in a couple of hardware stores.
It couldn’t hurt to at least try and ask, right?
I quickly walked over to the store, used my shoulder to push the door open, and headed inside.
It was a small store, not some kind of big chain, and nothing like any hardware store I’d ever been in. It was… cute. Very… overloaded. The shelves looked like they were overflowing with way too many items crammed into way too little space. The store itself smelled like sawdust and fresh paint. A weird but fitting combination.
Right next to the door on the left was the register. A man who had to be in his sixties was sitting behind the counter, a newspaper in hand, only looking up once I was already two steps into the store.
“Hi,” I greeted him with a nod.
“Hello,” he replied in a deep, bored voice. He studied me intently, brows furrowing when he spotted my crutches. “Can I help you, son?”
I wanted to ask about the bear spray since that was the whole reason for me being here, but his scrutiny made me nervous. Like he already knew I had no idea what I was doing and probably had no business living in a place where bears were common.
“No, thank you. I’m just… I’m just looking around a little,” I said, cringing when I heard my words out loud. I sounded German, didn’t I? Or rather, not like an American. I probably stood out like a sore thumb.
“If you need help, you know where to ask, son.”
“Thanks.” I smiled at the man, but he’d already started reading again, his thick, gray mustache twitching whenever he wrinkled his forehead.
I walked deeper into the store. In the front was a tool section, followed by a woodworking section, stuff to repair plumbing, paints…
Oh, I found another customer.
A big, burly dude stood in front of the paint section holding a few sample cards in the air, cursing quietly.
“Sage green, she said. A nice, pastel sage green. That’s not hard to find. A soft green. Calming. I never should have come here alone,” he muttered. “Next time I’ll just take her with me.”
He turned around with a defeated sigh, still holding a few sample cards in his hand.
“Hey, Mike, what do you…” He stopped and cocked his head. “You aren’t Mike.”
“No… I’m Luke. I don’t know who Mike is.”
“Mike’s the owner,” the other guy said because apparently that was important to know. Who knew? Maybe it really was. I had no idea since I’d never lived in a town as small as this one. And, oh yeah, I hadn’t lived on this fucking continent up until two days ago. “Hey, maybe you can help me. What do you think? Which one of these is sage green?”
He thrust his sample cards in my direction, an expectant expression on his face while I studied the cards, racking my brain trying to remember whatsagewas. Did I know the word? Fuck, I didn’t think so.
