Frame by Frame

by CJ Murphy

  “It’s not gonna eat itself. Get at it.” Ree pinched Val’s arm with her wizened fingers. “You’re too damn skinny as it is. What the thunder do ya eat when you’re out on that bike traipsing across the country?” Ree sat back down in her rocker and motioned for Val to dig in.

  “Nothing as good as this place serves.” Val grinned, holding up a huge spoonful of the crisp.

  “Guess them boots haven’t found a place to light yet?”

  Val shook her head. “Too much left to see.”

  “I keep up with where ya been. Laurel here has me all fixed up on that faceybook thing. I liked ya, now I can keep track of where ya are, and I don’t have to wait for my magazine to come.”

  Val nearly snorted coffee out her nose and broke into a coughing spell. “You’re on Facebook?”

  Ree rolled her eyes. “I am. I don’t do that bird watchy thing. Laurel shows me where ya been on her smartypants phone.”

  “Gram, that’s smart phone,” Laurel groaned. “And it’s Twitter, not bird watchy. Don’t let her fool you, Val, I got her a tablet and I’ve seen her scrolling.”

  Ree rolled her head from side to side. “You say potato, I say potato.”

  “You two crack me up.” Val tried to take another sip of coffee without it going down her windpipe.

  Tilly, their waitress, stuck her head in the kitchen. “Hey, Laurel, can you come run the register? Viking’s crew has the tables full and both Beth and I are hustling to get their orders in.”

  Laurel sighed. “I guess that’s my cue to get to work. Val, you want anything else?”

  Ree waved Laurel on. “Don’t worry about her. I’ve served a few dishes around this joint in my time. Get out there before Tilly breaks her pencil lead.”

  Laurel walked past Ree and ran her hand over the hunched shoulders of her grandmother.

  Val recalled that Ree’s daughter Sara had died a month after Laurel turned nine. With no father in the picture, Ree raised Laurel. Val marveled at their close relationship. The fact that Val was a lesbian had driven a deep, unbridgeable divide between her and her father. The relationship with her mother wasn’t much better. At least Mother and I are on speaking terms. Val watched as Laurel leaned over and kissed the top of her grandmother’s head and felt a pang of longing.

  “How could I forget, Gram? Here I was thinking you were a new hire.”

  That made Val smirk around her cup, not wanting to draw the ire of the matriarch.

  “Who in their right mind would want to work in a nut house like this?” Ree squinted her right eye at Val and then turned to Laurel. “Thunder. Be lucky if I remember my own name tomorrow. What was it I told ya to remind me of?”

  “Which time?”

  “Don’t you get sassy with me, young whip. I’ll warm your britches like I did when ya were ten.”

  Val laughed at the back and forth between the two. She’d shared a similar closeness with her own grandmother.

  Laurel put her hands on her hips. “Gram, I know I cut a dozen forsythia twigs for you to tan my hide, but I don’t remember you ever using one.” She held her pinky finger up at her grandmother and narrowed her eyes as the woman held hers back.

  Their voices spoke in unison. “Better not be smaller than my pinky.”

  She kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “You wanted to ask about the Punkin Chunkin contest.”

  Val remembered her article she’d written last fall about the event in Delaware.

  Ree wrung her hands. “How could I forget something like that?”

  Laurel’s jaw tightened, and Val winced. Is she that concerned?

  But then Laurel’s face softened as she hugged the elderly woman. “Gram, you’ve forgotten more things than I’ll ever know.”

  Ree grinned. “Get out there. I can see the line from here. Now, Val, about this bunch of folks that destroy perfectly good pumpkins.”

  Val never took her eyes off Laurel as she went through the swinging doors back into the restaurant. She turned her gaze to Ree. “A bunch is right, last year thirty thousand people went to watch it.”

  “Land sakes, don’t people got anything better to do than watch pumpkins fly?” Ree shook her head, wide eyed as she crawled out of her rocker. “Whatcha want besides that crisp? And don’t tell me ya ain’t hungry ‘cause I’m not buying it.”

  Val chuckled at the tough older woman, whose speech was razor sharp and filled with Appalachian slang. Val loved paying attention to the dialect and inflection in the places she traveled. This and the low country were some of her favorites. Ree’s still held a bit of the German prevalent in the historically German community of Aurora, West Virginia. She also loved the Creole of the low country while in Louisiana. The way it rolled off people’s tongues in the bayous made her smile with envy.

  She’d picked up enough Arabic to keep herself out of trouble while in Iraq, but it hadn’t been enough to understand the venom-filled protests. For a moment, she felt the searing heat of the desert again and reached into her pocket for her lip balm. It was habit, formed from long days of stifling temperatures, not enough water, and the futile attempt at keeping her lips from splitting.

  “You’re getting a foot-long dog and a large chocolate milk,” Ree said.

  Val rubbed her face. Looking around, Ree wasn’t where she’d been before, having moved over to the stove to pour chili over the hot dog. Val screwed up her face when Ree picked up the lid on the coleslaw and sighed in relief as she put it back down. Apparently, her sigh didn’t miss the elderly ears.

  “I might have forgotten about that Punkin Chunkin, but I haven’t forgotten your ill will toward coleslaw.” Chuckling, Ree turned and sat the foot-long hot dog slathered in chili and mustard in front of her then crossed the kitchen to the large refrigerator. Pulling the glass jug of chocolate milk from the shelf, she poured the rich mixture into a tall mug resembling a mason jar. After replacing the jug, Ree carried it over and sat it in front of Val.

  Val chewed the hotdog, a third of it already devoured. The seasoned tomato sauce merged with the ground beef perfectly. With her mouth semi full, Val held the icy mug close to her lips. “If I stayed around here long, I’d have to buy bigger pants you know.” Drinking some of the thick chocolate milk, she rolled her eyes in pleasure.

  Ree laughed at the milk mustache Val always left there for her amusement. “Might be good for you. Wipe your mouth. You’re worse than Wunder. And don’t wipe it on your sleeve like he does.”

  Val used the napkin on her leg to wipe off the milk. Wunder was Tilly’s twenty-year-old son. “I’ll say this, I’ve had a lot of chocolate milk across the country. There’s none as cold or as thick as what you serve.”

  Ree pointed her crooked index finger at Val. “That’s because I won’t serve low fat junk. Ya want to drink that, go somewhere else. Here, we serve the high-test made less than two miles away at the dairy.” Ree had lost her husband, Johann, at the age of twenty-four. The dairy she spoke of had been her father in law’s business.

  “Why didn’t you two take over that instead of starting this place back then?” Val asked taking another bite of her chilidog.

  “Johann’s father, Fritz, held to a lot of his German ways after he came over. Fritz believed his oldest son should inherit the business. He did help us get this place going, and it was an outlet to sell things from the dairy. That’s why to this day, we still do, including that ice cream ya love so much.”

  Val was envious, thinking of how long Laurel’s family went back in this area. She chewed her last bite of chilidog and washed it down with the rest of the milk. Hot dogs and chocolate milk, by most people’s standards, wouldn’t be considered comfort food. To her, it was better than a steak served in the finest restaurant.

  Ree brushed her hands together. “So, about that Punkin Chunkin thing?”

  Val spent the next fifteen minutes explaining the intricacies of hurling a pumpkin through the air for distance and the throngs of people that paid money to see it.

  “P
eople must be starved for somethin’ to do. Land sakes.” Ree shook her head in disbelief.

  “It’s big business and its good for the local economy. Personally, I’ll take sitting out there on your front porch over it any day.” Val watched as the older woman smiled at her and felt blessed to have ever had the chance to really get to know her.

  ***

  Laurel had looked through the windows into the kitchen a few times to see Val and her grandmother in conversation. Watching her grandmother laugh and carry on with the traveler, reminded her how much they both loved the biker dropping in. Val stopped in a few times a year on her travels and always took time to talk with her grandmother. Watching the easy friendship between the two women always made her heart warm. The line at the register finally slowed, allowing her to go back into the kitchen to catch a few minutes with them.

  “Val says people pay money to see how far they can chuck a pumpkin. Maybe next year we should have our own contest here with the pumpkins left over after Halloween.” Ree turned away, indicating she didn’t need a response. Her grandmother’s reaction to the event didn’t surprise her. Running the store left little time for pointless activities. As Laurel made her way over to her grandmother, she ran her hand across Val’s shoulder. The touch she used held great fondness. The two women timidly flirted whenever they were around each other. She had a hard time trying to categorize how she felt about Val. It was more than friendship, and yet it lacked an actual label. “You coming back this way after the ride on Sunday?”

  “That’s the plan. I left out of Columbus with this group. I’ve got an assignment down in Tennessee. I figure this will be their stopping point on the way back too.” Val scraped her second bowl of crisp noisily, savoring every bite.

  “Guess I’ll need to make another crisp Sunday morning so ya can get your fill on the way back.” Ree watched Val clean her spoon. “Want to lick the bowl too?”

  Val shook her head. “You don’t have to go to any trouble for me. I don’t expect anything.”

  “I know. That’s why it’ll be ready when ya come through. I figured you’d be dropping off another rubbing for Mule,” Ree replied, a knowing smile on her lips.

  Laurel was aware of this act of kindness Val performed and the impact it had. She’d witnessed the first one Val presented Mule. She’d never forget the tears he’d tried to hide.

  Val nodded. “It’s become kind of a tradition for me to do it for certain people. Mule appreciates them the most though.”

  “Gram, how old was he when Dale died?”

  “Twelve. Followed Dale everywhere. Never seen a child grieve so.” Ree’s voice became soft and low. “Always said he wanted to make a trip over to the memorial to see his name on the wall. Other than the day they buried Dale, he’s never gone farther than Oakland. Worked his daddy’s farm his whole life. Wasn’t a good piece of land, but somehow them potatoes kept the family fed and the bill collectors away.”

  Val tilted her head. “Mule never married?”

  Ree looked at Val with questioning eyes. “Not unless she was deaf as a post. You’ve heard that man laugh. He’s pretty solitary except for his daily sit here with Bobeye. Been rocking by that stove for a few hours every day for the last forty years. His daddy brought him in to try and bring him out of his grief the year his brother died. My daughter Anna told him a joke and made him laugh. His daddy said it was the first time any sound had come out of his mouth since he heard the news. I’ve never heard tell of him ever even going out with anyone, never mind marrying them.”

  Laurel realized she couldn’t remember a time in her life that Mule hadn’t been around. To her, he was part of the framework of the building. He was as much a part of the store as the faded red booths.

  The kitchen door swung open and Tilly leaned in. “Val, your buddies are loading up. See you back in here on Sunday?”

  “Count on it.” Val flashed her a killer smile. “I’m going to hit the head before it’s time to go. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Those dimples are going to be my undoing. Laurel watched her walk across the store. I count on it more than you know Viking.

  ***

  As Val made her way to the restroom, she looked around the tourist trap. Souvenirs lined the shelves and bins providing shoppers the chance to take home a small reminder of their time. She ran her finger over a coffee mug with a man wearing buckskins, a coonskin hat, and holding a musket. Dried corncobs on dowel rods, lumps of polished coal, and t-shirts declaring “Miners do it in the dark” lay before her. Various mounts and game heads lined the walls. Above the women’s restroom, the plastic Viking helmet with yellow braids still sat regally on a twelve-point whitetail deer head. She pulled out her smartphone, snapped a few photos, and posted them to her social media account named IronhorseOORAH with the hashtag, #CoolSpringstheresnoplacelikehome. She grinned as she entered the restroom beneath the yellow braids.

  Val came back to the kitchen and carried her dishes over to the sink. She began helping Laurel load up what was in the last plastic tub on the counter. They finished, and she walked back to her hat rolling the bill in her hands. It grew increasingly difficult to leave and always proved to be the hardest part of stopping in.

  Ree got up from her rocker and walked around the table. “Now, you be careful.” She poked Val’s shoulder. “I been to Washington D.C. one time, and that was one time too many for me. Come back soon.” She patted Val’s arm and headed into the back office.

  “Time for you to saddle up, Viking,” Laurel said as Val turned to her. “Thanks for taking the time to talk to her. She loves being able to fuss over you.”

  “I enjoy her company and the fussing just as much. Although I missed you ganging up on me.”

  “You rode in with a bunch of hungry hooligans. I assume you’ll plan on staying a little longer on the ride back?” Laurel finished drying her hands with the dishtowel and meticulously folded it into a small square.

  Val watched the absent-minded action. Wondering if her departure pulled at Laurel as much as it did her. She walked a few steps closer, reaching for Laurel’s hand. Her attraction to the beautiful woman became stronger each time she visited. “Yeah, I’ll split off from the group here and head south to my next assignment. Gives me a little more time to visit before I have to be down there since I won’t have to backtrack.”

  “We’ll keep the crisp warm and the ice cream cold.” Laurel tapped Val’s hat bill with one hand while using the other to squeeze the hand holding hers. “Strap that helmet on tight. Cheat Mountain’s had a lot of big rig wrecks on it of late. New trucking company has been doing transport down it, and their drivers apparently don’t realize you still need brakes when you get to the bottom of a mountain. Someone forgot to tell them there are seventeen curves to negotiate.”

  “I’ll do that.” Val stepped forward and hugged Laurel. Feeling her body this close always made Val long for more. They walked out with their arms around each other, Val’s slung loosely around Laurel’s shoulders and Laurel’s hand under the wide black belt circling Val’s waist.

  The two women made it to the porch and Val looked at her Indian Chief. “You’ll have to take that ride with me someday.”

  “Someday maybe I will, but not today.” Laurel had told her the same thing numerous times over the years.

  Val was reluctant to let Laurel go, holding her and resting her chin lightly on Laurel’s head breathing in the faint vanilla and coconut scent that reminded her of the beach. “Always someday. I’ve been trying to figure out what day of the week that is. Does it come between Wednesday and Thursday or Saturday and Sunday?”

  “Get out of here, you nut.”

  “See you Sunday.” Squeezing Laurel’s hand, Val released her and stepped down onto the cracked blacktop.

  ***

  Laurel stood on the storefront porch, watching the tall, lanky woman deftly swing her leather jacket on. The movement briefly tightened the white t-shirt across the muscled shoulders and caused Laurel’
s breath to hitch. “God, she’s sexy,” she whispered.

  Beth, her best friend, walked up beside her, wiping her hands on a blue striped kitchen towel. “She is. When the hell are you going to get around to telling her that?”

  “Beth, she’s got wandering feet like the father I never knew did. Besides, you of all people know why I don’t.” Laurel had a touch of impatience in her voice.

  “You spend too much time worrying about something that might never happen instead of living. Never took you for a fatalist, but it’s not like you listen to me anyhow.” Beth turned and walked back into the restaurant.

  “No sense stirring something that’s never going to happen.” Laurel raised her hand in goodbye as Val and the rest of the bikes roared back out onto US Route 50, heading east. Spinning on her heel, Laurel strode into the store to help bus the tables and booths that sat in the center of the building. Walking over to the empties, her shoulder brushed the woman who was like a sister. “I’m sorry, Beth. I know you care.”

  “You and I have been close since we were five years old. We’ve been through our share of spats. That one didn’t even register. Laurel, someday you’re going to wake up and find your whole life has passed by and you’ve barely noticed.” Beth shook her head. “Some things are worth taking a chance on. That Viking might be one of them.”

  Laurel watched her grab the plastic tub of dirty dishes and glasses and disappear into the kitchen. She wrung out a dishrag to wipe down the table, still thinking about Val. She finished resetting the placemats and silverware and made her way back to the kitchen. Her grandmother sat with her tablet in hand using the stylus to scroll. The arthritis left most of her fingers gnarled and misshapen, but Laurel had learned there was little this woman couldn’t do regardless of her age, aches, or pains. However, she had noticed that the double pneumonia Gram had suffered, appeared to have sapped much of her reserves. Laurel could still taste the palpable fear she’d felt when Gram had been sick. Gram was her only blood relative and the thought of her not being around still chilled Laurel to the bone. Looking at her now, Laurel could tell she was well down the path of recovery. She’d purchased the tablet so Gram could have something more immediate to interest her while she recovered. She tried not to think about her grandmother not being in her life.