by C D Cain
“You getting her ready for some pretty flowers?” Yvette asked as she walked up to Gentry from the motel office. “It’s getting that time of year.”
“It is.” Gentry stood up. “Actually, I thought about planting a couple of camelia bushes this time. It’s a flowering shrub with deep green leaves and beautiful rose-like flowers.”
“It sounds lovely.”
“They are and they’ll rebloom every year. And the leaves don’t lose their color; so, they stay beautiful all year long. Plus, they’re fairly low maintenance too.”
“Oh.” She leaned against the sign as she studied the expression on Gentry’s face. “It’s getting that time in more ways than one, isn’t it.” Yvette didn’t know much of the facts of Gentry’s life or how she had come to The Pelican. She didn’t know about her past or her hopeful future. What she did know was the person she was at this moment. This act was one to start her farewell.
Gentry looked down at the dirt. Twice a year, she had planted the box with a seasonal plant or flower. It was one of her favorite things to do at the motel. Unfortunately, the pregnancy has sped up her plans. Big Blue was ready, had been ready. Gentry wasn’t. She was enjoying her time at the motel. She had made friends with people she cared about. This was yet another apparent universal kick. She rolled the soil between her fingers. Maybe this was her push to leave because it was time. Otherwise, who knows? Without the pregnancy, she may have stayed too long and missed her opportunity to be a park ranger.
“Does this have anything to do with the phone call you got earlier? Wendy said it was like you’d seen a ghost.”
Gentry drove her hand further into the soil. Deep enough to no longer feel the heated soil but rather the damp coolness of the lower hidden soil. She fought against the mass of it to try to make a fist. Another phone call. “Sort of. I guess.”
“Do you want to talk about it? Tell me who it was that’s made you feel all of this?” Yvette moved her hand up and down. Gentry’s body was tense, her face strained.
Gentry shook her head. “No. Not really. It was just my grandmother. It’s nothing to talk about.” She thought it ironic when Yvette used the term ghost. All these years that woman had been a ghost in her memories—the haunting of her soul. It seems the evil inside of her had finally caught up with her. Ida had called to tell her the woman—the she that was a stain of her childhood was sick. Terminal even. Gentry knew her grandmother hoped she would move back to Brennin one day and maybe this would be the catalyst for it. Inwardly, she figured everyone hoped for a chance to right their wrong. It wasn’t that she disliked her grandmother. On the contrary really, she cared for her as much as she did anyone else. It was Brennin. That place. It held nothing for her but painful memories. She couldn’t fathom any scenario which would make her want to move back there.
Yvette watched as Gentry continued to pick through the soil. Her clenched jaw prevented any further words to be spoken. She knew this subject was part of the one she carried silently like a weight on her back. There would be no more discussion of it.
“Have you told anyone yet? Lou? Wendy?” Yvette asked.
“No. Not yet.”
“When are you planning on pulling out?”
“Soon.” It was time for Gentry to get as far away from Louisiana as she could.
Yvette looked over her shoulder at the bright blue bus that Gentry had worked on every free waking moment. “I knew this day would come from the moment you drove up in that old school bus. Lou thought I was wrong. He was thinking by the time it took you to fix her up that you would’ve wanted to stay. Put down some roots.” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “But I knew.” She looked at the motel room on the end of building C where Gentry lived as part of her pay for working at the motel. “I knew this was only a stepping stone for you.”
“I told you I would go.” She tossed another ball of roots over her shoulder onto the ground.
“You did.” Yvette reached into the front pocket of her smock and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She pointed the open end to Gentry. “Want one?”
Gentry reached for the cigarette, withdrew her hand for a moment, but then took the cigarette from the pack. “Thanks.”
Yvette lit their cigarettes, took a long drag, and watched Gentry avoid eye contact. She wondered exactly what was going on in her mind. Not that she would ever know, really. She knew as much about Gentry as Gentry wanted her to know. She respected that about her. Lou and Wendy had always pushed for more from her but Yvette gave her the space she knew she was most comfortable with.
Yvette removed a loose bit of tobacco from the tip of her tongue. “A Camelia sounds nice.”
Gentry smiled from behind an exhalation of smoke. “They’ll be beautiful.”
“I’m sure they will. I’ll think of you every time I look at them.” Yvette smoothed out her smock. “Guess I better get back to it. Those rooms ain’t gonna clean themselves.”
“Want some help?”
“Nah, I got it. Besides, Lou and Wendy are making a run into town. I was hoping you could cover the diner. The last of the lunch crowd has left so all there’ll be is maybe a straggler here or there.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Yvette looked over her shoulder at Gentry as she turned from her. “Am I going to wake up one day to that bus being gone or are you going to say goodbye?”
Gentry couldn’t look at Yvette nor could she answer. She had never felt comfortable with direct questions, especially ones where the answer would lead to pain or hurt. She looked away from her into the sky and took a long drag of the cigarette.
Yvette huffed playfully. “Yep. That’s what I thought. I love you, kiddo.” She put the cigarette between her lips and walked away.
Gentry rolled her shoulders as if she could remove the heaviness those words caused. She took her last puff of her cigarette and stared at the ashes as the fire burned the edges of the paper. Love. What was it anyway? To Gentry it was a word said through the dank, stale breath of beer and cigarettes. She rolled her shoulders again and put the cigarette out in the dirt.
Chapter 4
Gentry heard the bell ding from the front door being opened. “Hang on a sec. I’ll be right there.”
“Are you closed?”
“Are you kidding? We never close,” Gentry said as she rounded the corner from the back of the diner. “Oh, hi.”
“Are you sure? I can come back if you’re too busy.” Sam looked around the diner at the empty tables and realized how silly she sounded.
“Yep. Think you’re going to have to do just that. Sorry but we’re completely swamped.” She looked around the diner mockingly as if trying to find an open table. “Don’t think I can find you a table anywhere.”
Sam smirked.
“Oh hell. I’ll make an exception. What can I get you?” Gentry asked. “I ask in the loosest of terms because I have no idea what’s in the kitchen right now to fix.”
Sam waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Whatever you have is fine.”
“Take a seat anywhere you like.” Gentry smiled at Sam who again looked around the diner.
Sam took a few steps toward the table by the window where she had sat earlier that morning but then stopped and stepped up to the barstools along the counter. She ran her hand along the cool vinyl seat before sitting down.
Gentry smiled at her seating choice. “Stay here. Let me go see what’s in there to fix. You didn’t eat much of your breakfast this morning so I bet you’re starved.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. It’s your dime, not mine.” Gentry walked into the kitchen, opened the large industrial refrigerator, and peered inside. “It’s a good thing Lou and Wendy went for a run. It’s slim pickings in here.” She leaned over to look at Sam through the kitchen cut-out. “How does a BLT sound to you? Do you like to
matoes?”
“Sounds very good and yes, I do like them.” Sam ran her hand along the green Formica countertop. She straightened the salt and pepper shakers next to the glass jar of sugar. First, the salt on the left of the pepper and then on the right. She put the sugar in the middle of the two and then behind them.
“Ummmm. What are you doing?”
Sam looked up to see Gentry staring at her. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Gentry laughed. “Well, don’t get any ideas. We aren’t hiring.”
“Funny you should say that as I currently don’t have a job.”
Gentry cut one-quarter inch slice of the green tomato and brought it to her nose to inhale deeply. “Is that what brings you into town? You’re looking for work?” She placed the tomato back on the cutting board and finished slicing it.
“No. Not exactly. I’m just passing through.” Sam smelled the scent of cooking oil heating. That’s what it was, the smell of the diner. It was a scent of cooking oil and coffee. She had noted it the first time she walked in. She even caught whiffs of it on her clothing after she left.
“Oh, yeah? To where?”
Sam looked up and shrugged her shoulders. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Gentry didn’t know if she should laugh because she didn’t know if Sam had made a joke or if she had actually opened up. Her facial expression seemed to point to the latter. For fear of making a mistake, she frankly said, “Fair enough. Can I get you something to drink?” She reached into the refrigerator, pulled out a beer, and popped the top. She poured just enough into her batter and began dipping the sliced tomatoes into it.
“Actually, I could use one of those.”
Gentry peered through the window and crinkled her nose. “We don’t have a liquor license so I can’t sell you one.” She looked down at her watch. At best, Lou and Wendy wouldn’t be back for at least another hour. She grabbed a red, plastic drinking cup and filled it with the remaining beer. “But, I could be a friend giving another friend a beer. As long as that friend knows how to keep a secret,” she said as she walked to Sam and handed her the glass.
“She sure does. She may even know how to keep two.”
Now that, Gentry knew was humor. She laughed as she walked back into the kitchen. “You’re funny.”
“Thanks. I used to agree with that statement.”
Gentry placed eight strips of bacon on the hot griddle and dropped the battered, sliced green tomatoes into the hot oil. “There’s a story behind a comment like that.”
Sam took a swallow of beer. “There is.”
Gentry remembered the promise she made herself to not press Sam for more than she was comfortable sharing. Wendy, on the other hand, was just that type. She was thankful she wasn’t here because there is no way she would let a comment like that go. She would’ve hounded Sam until she had given her everything but her bank account number. As Gentry turned the bacon and prepped the sourdough bread, she thought of Sam fleeing earlier with one simple question being asked. To prevent the same this time, she decided to halt with the questions. She tore a piece of lettuce from its head and began slicing a ripened tomato. Again, she brought it to her nose to smell before slicing it.
“Why do you do that? Smell the tomato like that,” Sam asked.
Gentry looked at the tomato and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, really. The woman who taught me to cook used to do it. I suppose I picked it up.”
“The woman who taught you to cook? Not your mother?”
“No.” Gentry brought the knife smoothly through the tomato with a single cut. “Not my mother.”
“Ah. There’s a story behind that comment.”
“There is.” Gentry walked from the kitchen carrying two plates. She placed one in front of Sam. “My very special BLT.”
Sam looked at the plate in front of her and the one Gentry still held. “It looks delicious. And filling. I don’t think I can eat two.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind some company.”
“Oh, sure.” Sam shook her head. “Sorry. I’m not really with it these days. But, yeah, I’d like that.” She lifted the top piece of bread to peek at the fried green tomato. “The silence can be deafening some times in that room.”
Gentry sat next to her at the bar. “That it can be.” She tucked a piece of bacon that had fallen from under the bread back into its place. “That’s why I find something in the silence. There’s always something, you know?”
“No. Not really.”
“Okay. I’ll show you. Listen.” She quieted and closed her eyes. “Hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“The chain of the ceiling fan tapping against the glass globe.” Quickly, she opened her eyes from the vision of light shining in through velour doors. “And that? The hum of the refrigerator.” She turned her head to the side to find Sam staring intently at her. “See, there’s always something within the silence. You just have to find it.” She cut off a small slice of her sandwich. “Sometimes it takes longer than others but it’s always there.” She picked her slice apart and began to eat it piece by piece. Of course, she had noticed the slow, rhythmic click of the ceiling fan in the quietest of times. Easily, it brought her back to those times. Silently she stared off at nothing in particular as she chewed each bite.
Sam watched her. She had one of those cute little noses that most would describe as perky. The nostrils curved upward on each side of the dainty tip. It seemed to widen her smile every time she let it show. Who was this woman in the middle of nowhere? Sam took a healthy bite of her sandwich, which was not easy as it was rather tall. “Damn. This is really good.”
Gentry smiled broadly. “Thank you, ma’am. I guess I should call it my BLTT.” She smirked as she popped a piece of fried green tomato in her mouth. “The fried green tomatoes really set it off.”
Sam caught herself smiling.
“Why are you smiling?” Apparently, Gentry did too.
“Nothing. It’s stupid.” Sam shook her head.
“No, what? I’m one of those crazy people who actually like stupid.”
“It’s just that a movie popped into my head when you said that.”
“Oh my God, I love that movie.”
“Me too,” Sam said shyly.
“Okay, so who are you?”
“I’m sorry?”
“In the movie. Who are you? What character?”
Sam took a swallow of her beer and tried to think of the different characters in the movie. She wanted to answer as best she could. The way Gentry asked, she figured she had her answer decided long before this conversation. Plus, she didn’t seem much like a flippant kind of person. “Honestly, I don’t know. I suppose right about now I’m more Evelyn than anyone else. Who are you?”
“As if.” Gentry gave her a look to match her statement. Seriously, as if she could be anyone other than Idgie. “Idgie all the way.”
“And this is your Whistle Stop?”
“Not really, but,” Gentry put the last of her fried green tomato in her mouth, “the fried green tomatoes are pretty damn good.”
“That they are.” Sam pulled hers from her sandwich and ate the last of it too.
Gentry held the small key hanging from her necklace in between her fingers. She ran it across its chain as she thought about what she wanted to say. She didn’t do what people call sharing when it came to feelings and expressions. Actually, she was quite known for her listening skills. Everyone at the Pelican came to her when they needed to talk, not necessarily for advice as she rarely shared her opinions, but more to vent. She was most comfortable in this role. Yet, here she found herself wanting to share with a complete stranger. Maybe that was what was drawing her in. This woman would be gone in a day’s time. Even if she stayed longer, it’s not like Gentry wasn’t planning on leaving herself. No matter who was to leave f
irst, they would essentially remain complete strangers. Gentry watched Sam as she picked at her sandwich. Her face looked freshly washed and free from make-up except for the light pink lipstick. She was a beautiful woman without any fuss being made at all. Gentry wondered what it was that troubled her to keep her blue eyes red and puffy from what must have been recent tears.
“I’m just passing through too,” she finally said.
Sam looked at her from over her glass as she finished the last of her beer. She was surprised not so much as the words Gentry spoke but in the tone of which she spoke them. She could hear the honesty in them. “Really? I thought you were from here.”
“No. Not from here. I grew up about two hours from here.”
“So, if you’re passing through, where’s your final destination? Maybe you’ll give me some ideas of where to go next.”
“I don’t know if it’s my final destination but I’m headed up north.”
“Really? How far up north?
“To Maine. So, I guess pretty much all the way and still be in the U.S. I got a job with the National Park Service.”
“What? Get outta here?” Sam started to return a slap on Gentry’s arm but then withdrew her hand.
“That’s the plan,” Gentry said quietly and looked down. “To get out of here.”
“At least you have a plan. You’re getting away with a real goal in mind. I’m envious. I’m just running away.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t always have to have a plan to do that.”
Not much more was spoken between them as they finished their meal. They felt the connection within their words but really neither could let themselves open up any more. The sound of the ceiling fan’s chain tapping against the globe was left uninterrupted.
