Writing Exercise #5 - Ryan

I guess it had been a long time since I’d been to town. Working out on the ranch, time has a tendency to slip by, what with doctoring cows and putting up hay and what not. That and James was cutting lumber to build a bigger barn and had been having me help with that. I guess it had been at least three or four months since I’d been away from the ranch. Got fed up one day while we were working and told James he was going to have to work alone for a few days because I was going to take me a little bit of a vacation. Nothing fancy, just thought I’d ride into town for a day or two, play some cards, maybe take in a picture show. The town was bigger than I remember it. People seem to be moving in here from all over. I’m not really sure what to make of it, the natural order of things I guess. James and I had been raised on the ranch ourselves, but I guess that doesn’t really mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Granddad and Uncle John were newcomers themselves when they showed up. I’m not going to begrudge anyone anything. I certainly wasn’t going to begrudge anything of the new waitress working down at the diner across the street from the hotel. She’s a pretty little thing. Keeps her hair pulled back away from her face. It’s dark hair, long from the looks of it, but hard to tell because she’s always got it pulled back so tight that it’s just smooth and sleek across the top of her head like a glossy blackbird wing. She’s just a tiny little thing, couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds when she’s sopping wet. Makes a man wonder what a little thing like her thinks when a big old hulk like me comes lumbering in and sits down at the counter. She walked over to take my order and I was nothing but blushing stutters. I watched her walking back towards the kitchen to tell the greasy cook my order and I figured she must think that I’m at least half retarded with the way I was yammering and what not just trying to order some eggs and biscuits. I felt bad about what she must have been thinking about me, but that didn’t seem to stop me from noticing how nice her uniform looked on her. It didn’t look nearly as good on any of the other waitresses wandering around, heavy girls with dyed hair half-heartedly pouring coffee and nodding at listless comments about the weather. This girl was different though. She made the uniform look good, look professional. I wondered what she’d do if I flat out told her what I thought. Told her I liked her that I loved her and was ready to marry her just as soon as she gave the word. She’d pause for a second like she was shocked by what I’d said and I just felt like I wanted to crawl away and die. But after just a bit, just long enough to let the thundering in my head die down, a smile started to spread across her face while she reached around behind her and untied her apron strings that passed all the way around her twice because she was so thin. Well, we were out the door and walking hand in hand down the sidewalk before I even had time to realize I hadn’t paid for my breakfast. She was just moving like a whirlwind, dragging me by the hand as she marched straight through town and out towards the lake down the hill a ways. She didn’t stop until we reached a little cabin tucked away at the edge of the woods. It was in pretty rough shape, even for the cheaper places around town. Streaks of rust from the roof ran across the tin and dripped streaks on the uneven lumber of the roughcut walls. The front steps sagged on the left side under the weight of several years of footsteps and seemed to be drawing the porch roof along with them. It gave the house a haphazard effect, like the paralyzed face of a stroke victim. The inside was only slightly better. It seemed like pots were set everywhere to catch the late summer rains and the springs of the chair in the corner stood out like the ribs of a starving cow. Holes gaped in the fabric as if people liked pulling out the stuffing when they sat down, just to pass the time. But my little waitress had made an attempt to brighten the place up a bit. A handful of wildflowers nested in a cracked coffee mug on the wobbly looking table and there were magazine pictures showing off movie stars pinned to the walls. A couple more of her waitress dresses hung on hooks in the corner along with another dress that was dark green and looked to heavy to wear in the summertime. —I just have to change clothes and then we can go, she said as she walked towards the dresses. I was behind her and couldn’t see her hands, but I watched her arms move as she unbuttoned the front of her dress and let it drop to the floor. Her skin was as pale as paper, a row of buttoned vertebrae led my eye from her dark hair down her back. A fat purple scar curved across her side in a wicked S halfway between her cream undershorts and her paisley blue brassiere. I was going to ask her about her scar but it disappeared underneath the dark green dress and it slipped from my mind almost as if it didn’t exist, didn’t splash across her side like an awkward stain. —Button me up, she said without turning around. —What? —My dress, I need you to button it, I cant reach the top ones, she said as she finally turned around to face me. The light was shining in from the window and it was the first time I’d gotten a chance to see her face directly. I’d been too nervous to look at her before then. And I couldnt believe how bright and pure she looked. Maybe that’s how she always looked, or maybe it was just because she was surrounded by the grime of the cabin, but I couldnt believe what she must have seen in the look on my face. —Are you alright? she asked. —What’s that? I mumbled. —I asked you if you are alright, she answered. I brought your food out five minutes ago and you havent touched a bite. I just wanted to make sure you werent sick or anything. I looked around the small café. It had cleared out some, but the old timers at the counter and even a few of the dazed waitresses with their unnatural hair had turned to look at me. I could hear the scratch of the cook scraping the grease off his griddle. I imagined his sagging belly resting against the front of the stove while he stretched the reach the back corner of the massive grill with his spatula. I looked up from my coffee, my eyes traced their way up the row of buttons climbing her dress and over to her nametag, slightly askew. Caroline. —I think I’m going to be just fine, I said.