Page 5 of These Rough Waters

It was getting cold now and I hadn’t yet seen a single place we could stay in.

“Momma, I’m hungry,” Harper declares.

“Okay, baby.”

The diner was to be our first stop. I was sure it would be full of the locals anyway, so maybe someone in there will be more helpful than the man from the boat.

I don’t see a single person as we walk the short distance but when we head inside, that’s no longer the case. With our bags around our feet and the door still open behind us, everyone in the place turns to look at us. Harper squeaks and ducks behind my body and I swallow.

Small towns…

It looked like it was a diner and a bar, a rustic kind of charm to the place with exposed wood walls and low hanging lights, photographs, and paintings of what I assume is the surrounding area hanging on the walls. The bar itself is set on the opposite side of the room, mismatched stools lined up neatly in front of it, all currently occupied and there were booths and tables filling the rest of the space while a jukebox plays quietly from the corner.

I could smell food and beer and while I’d never been a big drinker, I was suddenly starvingandcraving a glass of wine.

Willing myself to lift my chin and square my shoulders, I head right down the middle of the place, feeling eyes follow with every step I take.

It was probably my face drawing most of the attention but newcomers in small towns have always been hot topics, even I knew that.

“Hello,” My voice shakes as I greet the young girl behind the bar.

She has a sweet face, probably around my age, twenty-seven, with blonde hair and big blue eyes. She smiles kindly, her hands busy as she dries a glass.

“What can I do you for, love?” She asks, her eyes scanning the side of my face that’s bruised and swollen before she meets my eyes again.

“I was actually looking for a hotel or something,” I tell her, “And maybe a table for food if there is one free?”

She looks at the bruising again and then down to Harper, “Sure thing,” she nods, “I’ll show you to a table and get you the number for the local lodge, not sure they’ll have anything available though.”

“Thank you,” I sigh, thankful for the help and I follow her back through the diner. While eyes still watch, the conversations that had ceased when I first arrived have now resumed, quieter now but at least they were chatting again.

“Right, what can I get ya to drink while you look at the menu?” The girl asks.

“Can I have a milkshake!?” Harper blurts.

“You sure can,” The girl smiles warmly, “And for momma here?”

“Just a water,” I say, foregoing the wine. There would be time to drink away my issues and now wasn’t it, even if a glass or two would be welcome.

“Coming right up, you go ahead and choose what you want to eat, I’ll be right back with the drinks and that number for you!”

I nod, watching her leave, her pace going from relaxed to hurried the further she gets away from us, and she practically sprints through the doors leading out of the main bar area, the door slamming shut behind her. I shift with anxiety, hands beginning to sweat while I look but don’t really see the menu.

“Ooo!” Harper fidgets excitedly, “They have macaroni! That’s my favorite!”

I look around the bar, catching the eye of a few patrons who look away too quickly.

I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life. I feel out of place and out of my depth. I grew up in the city, around people who didn’t care for one another but pretended they did. I was always around crowds, but no one ever looked at me, and now I’m here, in this little town with people who probably all know each other and their history. I doubt much happens here.

Which is what I wanted.

I needed a place where no one knew who I was or where I had come from, a place far, far away from them –him. It would get easier, right? And who knows if I was even going to stick around here long term. I could handle this for a while. I could.

When the girl finally returns with the drinks, she places a piece of paper with a number scribbled on the front as promised but her face is no longer smiling.

“I’m going to be frank here,” she whispers, eyes darting to Harper to ensure she is occupied by the milkshake and not listening in, “We don’t get many new people in town, especially not ones looking like you.”

I swallow nervously.

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