If Heaven Had Cheese Fries

by Stephanie Staudinger

  I stretched my arm out as far as I could to grab for my phone without disturbing Dozer or Sam. It was 7:59 a.m. meaning that my alarm was ready to go off at any moment. I looked over at Sam. He always looked peaceful when he slept, a slight smile pulling at the ends of his lips. His dark curly hair was more tousled than usual. I watched him for a minute as he took a deep breath in, a deep breath out, the weight of the world off his shoulders as he snoozed on.

  “Morning,” he suddenly groaned.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Sometimes I felt like we were on the same wavelength and that my staring had caused him to wake up.

  “It’s okay,” he said in a sleepy voice, leaning over to kiss my forehead. “How did you sleep?”

  Not well was the correct answer. I had woken up a few times throughout the night, a result of nightmares. The lingering pit of dread, common after a bad dream, stayed in my stomach long after the memories of those dreams faded. I was used to it at that point. The nightmares had been occurring for the past month. As usual, I told Sam I’d slept fine. There was no use in dwelling on it anyway-- I already had a laundry list of things I needed to get done.

  I jumped out of bed quickly before I lost any momentum, and stars dotted my vision. “Woah.” I put a hand against the wall to steady myself as I made my way to the bathroom.

  “You okay?” I heard Sam call.

  “Fine!” I ran my hands through my hair, which was a bit of a chore. I gathered my dirty blonde locks into a bun on the top of my head. One day I would be able to afford a salon dye job again. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the bathroom floor. It wasn’t a day where I would fake having it together for the world’s sake. I started to leave the bathroom but then thought better of it. Well, maybe I could fool the world a little bit with just a trace of eyeliner. Fake it until you make it. That was from Chapter 3. No lipstick, though-- Katianna Sole was still a cursed brand to me.

  A few minutes later I was ready to go. I turned the light on to wake Sam up.

  “Why would you do that?” He groaned and pulled the blanket up over his head, causing Dozer to hop off the bed and land with a rather heavy thud by my feet.

  “Hey, it’s no worse than you kicking Dozer off the bed.” I gestured to Dozer, who had already lain down in the very spot where he landed. “Let’s get going. The sooner I can put this car nonsense behind me, the better.”

  It didn’t take long to find, Gustav’s Auto Repair, which was right on the edge of our city. Strange name for a shop owned by a man named Burt. I kept my comments to myself, though. A co-owner or a family name seemed like a logical explanation. Of course, I’d never see Glen again to ask.

  The automotive shop was located at the end of a block that was otherwise mostly occupied by warehouses and storage units. The vast majority seemed to not be in use anymore, hence the boarded up windows and graffiti. I did see a small yellow house at the end of the block, a sign there was life here aside from us.

  Sam had driven behind me to make sure that I stayed safe. Good thing, too-- this was an unfamiliar part of the city. Despite living here for five years, I still got lost. It didn’t help that Menlo Grove was surrounded by tons of tiny towns, most of which I didn’t even know the names of.

  “That’s my baby.” I hopped out of my car and gave her a few appreciative pats on the hood—gently, however, as I didn’t want to cause her any more unnecessary distress.

  “Um…” Sam trailed off as he got out of his car to meet me. “What the hell is this?”

  “Grassware? Grr, ass, ware? Grass war? Grasss-” Sam cut me off as I read the graffiti splashed in green paint on the side of a warehouse.

  “Not the graffiti, the shop.” He cupped my chin and turned it towards Gustav’s so that I could get my first good look at it. Yikes, it was an eyesore.

  “What is this place?” he asked again, slowly this time, as he kicked a can across the completely empty parking lot. It rattled loudly, seeing as how there were no other sounds in the vicinity to accompany it.

  I took the business card out of my purse and smoothed it out on my leg. Sam quickly snatched it from me.

  “Hey!” I yelled, but he was busy reading. He studied the business card, looked up, then looked back down at the business card. He did this several more times before declaring, “This is the right place according to your card.”

  “Well, obviously,” I said. It was cold, I was cranky, and I just wanted my car fixed.

  “Why does it look so abandoned, though?” Sam narrowed his eyes at the shop.

  The sides of the shop were covered in peeling white paint and dirt, lots of dirt. ‘Gustav’s Automotive Shop’ was painted on in what I guessed had been bright red at one point in time. It had faded into a burnt orange color, and some of the letters were barely visible.

  There were two garage doors. One was open a crack, while the other one was completely shut. A door in between the two had a makeshift wooden sign leaning against it which read, “Employees only.”

  Next to it was another sign which said “We do breaks.”

  “Nice spelling,” Sam scoffed as he followed my gaze towards the signs.

  “It’s a car shop, not a school,” I scolded him. “Shall we?” I asked, looking around. “There might be a door on the other side.”

  “How did you find out about this place again?” Sam asked, squinting at me. I could tell he was having second thoughts, but there really was no other car shop that my car would make it to.

  “I told you. The stranger in the parking lot handed the card to me.” I grimaced after I said it, realizing how kinda creepy that all sounded. “He was really nice, though.”

  “Comforting,” Sam said. “All right, I’ll go first.”

  “It’s not a haunted house,” I rolled my eyes and followed him to the other side of the building. I was right. There was a door which looked as if it opened into a waiting room. The windows were a bit dusty, but as I peered through them I could see a counter, two folding chairs, and a vending machine. It looked like your typical waiting room. There was even some sort of ficus in the corner. Plants were always comforting.

  The door was propped open with a wooden wedge. Sam followed me inside begrudgingly so.

  “Hello?” he called out.

  No answer.

  “Helllooooooo,” he said again.

  I raised my eyebrows at him and stifled a laugh.

  “We’re going to die, and I’m glad you can find humor in this.”

  “Relax,” I told him. “They have a vending machine and a quarter machine, how ominous can they be? Plus a ficus.” I nudged the plastic basket it was in with my toe, rattling the dust that had settled on the plastic leaves.

  Sam began moving towards a door near the counter which led to a garage. I bent closer to examine the vending machine. There were six rows, all picturing Diet Coke with glowing green buttons next to them.

  Interesting. Sam was about to open the door to the garage when it flew open, causing him to jump a foot in the air. I gave a small scream, and fully prepared myself to run to that small yellow house on the corner for help should an axe-wielding maniac appear.

  “Sorry about that!” An older gentleman appeared. He had to be in at least his seventies, with white hair and a full bushy beard to match. He was taller than Sam who stood at roughly 6’2. He was wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, and a windbreaker that seemed to be a few sizes too big. It was only half zipped and awkwardly slouching off one shoulder. He turned towards me, “If you want more variety, I believe I have some other flavors in the cooler out in the garage.” It took me a while to realize he was talking about the Diet Coke-only vending machine.

  “Oh!” I turned to face him. “That’s okay. I actually, umm, really like Diet Coke. Also...” I trailed off as I dug in my pocket and pulled out the coffee-stained business card, handing it to him. “I got this from your brother-in-law the other day.”

  “Glen!” The man’s face genuinely lit up. “Great guy. You must be Gwendolyn o
r Dylan I should say. I heard all about you.”

  I nodded. “This is my boyfriend, Sam.” Sam had suddenly appeared right next to my side out of a protective urge. I wasn’t sure what good he would do, though, if this large man started swinging. Not to mention that Sam is almost as skinny as I am and still needs to sleep with a night light on.

  “It’s not a night light, Dyl. It’s an automatic plug-in,” he’d always say.

  “Burt,” the tall man said to us, reaching out to shake each of our hands. “I heard you guys coming two blocks down,” he chuckled.

  “She has a pipe dragging down, and I want it fixed before it kills her.” Sam took the liberty to chime in.

  Staring at Burt, I saw a strange glint flash in his eyes. The lights flickered, however, and it was gone. This place was giving me the creeps.

  “That’s quite alright,” he continued normally. “We’ll get your car fixed up quickly.” We followed Burt as he opened one of the sliding garage doors and gestured for Sam to go pull the car in. I took a quick peek inside and breathed a sigh of relief. No dead bodies right off the bat. Who knew what was in those abandoned warehouses nearby, however.

  Everything seemed at least somewhat normal. I was no mechanic, but I saw tools, beams, and ramps to raise a car. I also sniffed the air. The faint and oddly comforting smell of gasoline and rubber hit my nostrils.

  “I spend a lot of time here.” I didn’t realize Burt had moved right behind me until he spoke, causing me to jump.

  “Is it just you that works here?” I yelled over the noise of Sam backing the car into the garage.

  “Just me and Vel.”

  “Who is Vel?” I shouted. The rumbling from my car abruptly stopped. Sam had made it into the garage. I resisted the urge to let out a cheer.

  “Watch your head,” Burt yelled, turning his attention to Sam. “There’s a shelf right there that people sometimes bump into when getting out.”

  Sam came back to us, rubbing the back of his head. My guess was that he didn’t hear the warning in time.

  “Vel is my cat. Chubby ol’ gal. Mostly outdoors, but you might see her around,” Burt explained.

  “Cute. Who is Gustav, then?” My curiosity got the better of me.

  Burt’s cheeks reddened. “Ah, the sign. Well that’s...Well you see that...Ah, never mind that,” he finally said after struggling to make a cohesive sentence.

  I nodded my approval, hoping that if I threw my full confidence behind Burt, Sam would follow.

  “Now this shouldn’t take long. If you guys want to come back in a few--” Burt stopped again as if struggling to find words. “Bit of time,” he continued. “Or you can hang out here.”

  Sam took my hand, a little more tightly than normal. “We can hang out.”

  “Don’t blame ya. Scenery ain’t too pretty around here. No matters, I’ll come grab you when she’s all done.”

  We made our way back into the waiting room and before I could ask Sam what he thought, he looked at me with wide eyes.

  “This place is weird.”

  “Do you want to go somewhere to kill time?” I leaned over and kissed him on his cheek. He shook his head no until something caught his eye.

  “Hey look!” Sam pointed to behind the counter where a pair of green eyes was staring at us. He made a clicking noise, trying to get the black cat who I assumed was Vel over to us, but she sauntered off through the open door.

  “She’s really charmed by you.”

  “Doesn’t seem very safe to have a cat in there while working.” Sam was back to his typical scrutinizing self.

  “I’m sure it’s fine.” I looked around the waiting room again. It really was a strange place.

  There was a small black television in the upper right corner. I didn’t see a remote anywhere in sight. I turned my attention to a magazine I found underneath my chair instead.

  Weird. On the cover was a picture of one of my favorite boy bands. I knew because anytime I visited home, my childhood bedroom still had a photo tacked up of Keller Washington, lead singer of “Interstate 280.” I could recognize those frosted tips anywhere. I ran my hand over them on the magazine, feeling suddenly nostalgic.

  “Jesus.” I turned to Sam, showing him the cover which was surprisingly in perfect condition, albeit a little dusty. “This is from 2000.”

  Sam laughed. “Not surprising. That’s the last time Keller was relevant.”

  We sat in silence for a few more minutes, despite Keller singing one of his boppy tunes in my head. The occasional whirr of Bert working on the car could also be heard.

  “Think I should bring back frosted tips?” Sam scrunched his nose up at me.

  I rolled up the magazine and whacked him on the arm, a little harder than I intended.

  “Play nice, kids.” Burt had returned, causing me to jump yet again.

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.” I quickly apologized.

  Sam shot me a look and checked his watch. Burt had been gone only 10 minutes; something had to have gone amiss with the car.

  “Something wrong? I asked.

  “Nothing wrong!” Burt exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Better than expected. In fact, we are all finished.” He stretched his arm out suddenly. I quickly reached out but just missed the keys as they hit my fingertips and clattered to the floor. Burt continued, as if on some sort of strange autopilot, “I had some clamps on hand which I just used to hold everything up. Should do the trick.”

  Sam picked the keys up for me and I followed him to the counter. I suddenly felt uneasy as I pulled out my wallet. Was this all a setup to rob us?

  I caught Burt out of the corner of my eye. He was staring across the counter, squinting as if he was trying to see what was in my wallet. I quickly closed it and met his gaze. The uncomfortable pit in my stomach had returned. Most people don’t finish a car in ten minutes, or have a vending machine offering only Diet Coke. Everything felt just slightly out of place.

  “It’ll be sixty-eight dollars.”

  I looked at Sam, who shifted uneasily.

  “Are you sure? I was doing research on--”

  Burt cut me off. “It was a quick and easy fix. I had the parts anyways, so really if I was a super honest man, I wouldn’t charge you at all!”

  I opened my wallet back up. I knew before I even counted that I would find sixty-eight dollars in my wallet. Sam had exchanged my smaller bills out for his twenties before we even arrived. I opened my mouth but I wasn’t sure what to say. How did he know how much money I had? I needed to get out of there. Burt was no longer paying attention anyways; he was fiddling with what I assumed was the remote for the TV. I slid the money over towards him and cleared my throat to get his attention back.

  The cash register dinged. Burt quickly stuffed the money in the completely empty drawer as I worked to put my wallet back in my purse.

  “Well, thanks again,” I said, looking up to meet his gaze.

  “No problem! And here.” He dug into the pocket of his windbreaker. “Give these to your friends.”

  It was more business cards. This time they said, “Burt’s Automotive Shop.”

  Burt disappeared back into the garage and Sam grabbed my hand and practically pulled me out of there.

  Sam cranked the engine twice and pushed the gas and the brake before getting out and sliding underneath the car. He was under there for two minutes before I cleared my throat.

  “I mean it looks okay,” Sam said, sliding back out.

  “Okay,” I repeated. “Okay as in won’t get me killed? Or okay as in it’s still questionable?”

  “It’s questionable, but you should be okay,” he said with a wink.

  I laughed, but the uneasy feeling remained.

  “Tell you what,” Sam said, opening my driver’s side door so that I could slide in. “Want to grab breakfast at Flamingles?”

  I stalled for a moment. I really just wanted to crawl back into bed.

  “Come on. French toast?” Sam winked. �
��My treat.”

  “Can’t resist free and French toast in the same sentence. I’ll see you there.” I leaned out the window and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “If my car makes it.”

  “Funny.” He rolled his eyes. Apparently he was the only one allowed to make jokes.

  When Sam walked away, I realized I was still holding tightly to the business cards. I unclenched my fist.

  “Huh.” I looked down at the cards again. These had that same coffee stain on them as the original. I buried them deep underneath the junk in my car’s glove box.

  The weird encounter at the auto shop played over and over in my mind, even as I pulled into the parking lot of Flamingles.

  Flamingles was a local diner that was a bit of a tourist spot. The owners were a wonderful older couple who had big personalities and a secret recipe for French toast that could win the world over. The whole entire outside, as well as inside, was covered in flamingo decorations. Even the first l in Flamingles was actually a giant plastic flamingo on the front of the building. Every time I walked below it, I was nervous thinking that it would fall.

  The food was worth the risk, though. Sam and I always stopped in to split a stack of their chocolate chip French toast with cookie dough whipped cream. The Mingles were always there to greet us at the door. They had taken a keen liking to us ever since Sam and I went on vacation to Florida and brought them back a small flamingo statue that we found at a thrift store. It sat on the front counter between their toothpick and mint bowl.

  I checked the time. It was only 9:30 a.m. and already I felt like half the day had passed.

  Sam had beaten me to the restaurant and was already sitting at a booth by the back wall. He gave me a big wave as I walked in. Bless him, there were two cups of coffee already waiting. The restaurant was empty except for two other couples. They never did get too much business there. Flamingo-themed shops weren’t in high demand in the Grove.

  I placed my hands over my cup, letting the steam warm them.

  “Dyl! Sam!” One of our favorite waiters came over and greeted us. All I knew about him was that he was a sophomore at the local college, studying something to do with the environment.