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Rose petal scent molecules? No problem!
Eli’s famous apple pie baking in the oven molecules? Yum!
Cow turd molecules embedded in my lungs and passing over my tongue? I’m holding my breath.
At least as long as I can.
I nearly lose it around the hairpin turn but drag the truck back into the center of the dirt road, windows down, my hair flying around in front of my eyes as I see the first stop light that leads into town.
There’s only two on Main Street. One as you come into town, and one as you go out. Two blocks of the hustle and bustle of Mumford for me to explore while I wait for Marcy and David to do whatever they are going to do.
Why I agreed to let them run off and leave me there alone I’m not sure. I’m a sucker for love I guess.
Although…what marcy and David have I’m not so sure is love. More like riding the dopamine waves between break ups and make up sex. Whatever. I don’t judge.
The clock in the town square reads nine-thirty so I have to kill an hour before heading back to pick her up. I only hope her parents don’t wander through town and see me sitting alone in Mario’s Diner, and start wondering why she and I are not at the big ten-screen theater in Brashford, the next town over where my father and his family owned their farm.
That’s also where David is from. He got expelled from his high school for threatening his algebra teacher with bodily harm for giving him an F on his mid-term freshman year, and his parents had no choice but to enroll him at Mumford High.
That’s not the man of my dreams, at least. Mine is sitting at home watching Blue Bloods on a staticky 1980’s television while drinking horrible Folgers coffee and baking bread.
He’s different alright. But he’s just right if you ask me.
* * *
“Thank you,so much. I know you want to close.” I inhale the wondrous scent of the beef and cheese enchiladas as Rebecca, Mario’s wife, slides the white plate full of luscious goodness onto the counter.
She waves her hand.
“He’ll be back there cleaning until midnight. Might as well have some company. He’s a grump when he cleans.” She winks and I admire how she has her eyeliner in a perfect cat eye, matched with the ultimate shade of cherry red on her cheerful lips.
As I savor the first cheesy bite, there’s the sound of a loud engine and hoops and hollers of what can only be high school boys, from the street. My stomach knots as the engine cuts off and I catch the sight of a souped-up Ford Mustang carrying a herd of boys that were at the bonfire.
I recognize them as part of David’s crowd and wonder why they’ve left the party without one of their own, but considering the issue of the baby and all, I’m sure their usual boy band antics have had a bit of a monkey wrench thrown in.
They barrel into the restaurant, ignoring the closed sign as Rebecca points them toward a corner booth.
“You guys have trouble in mind, you better rethink it. Mario is here tonight and he will knock your heads together If you so much as spill the salt.”
They make mock scary sounds as they laugh and slide into the booth, shooting me glances as I hold a bit of my enchilada on my fork.
“Don’t worry about them. Mario will snatch them bald-headed if they start up. You eat, sugar,” she says, winking. “How’s your father?” I stuff the bite into my mouth as she quickly corrects herself. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I mean, how is Eli? To me, he’s your father, but that’s in poor taste, I know.”
My skin crawls as I listen to the low chuckles and teasing comments coming from the boys that revolve around my goody-two-shoes-smarty-four-eyes reputation, along with a few digs at ‘crazy Eli’ thrown in for good measure.
I swallow the delicious bite before answering. “He’s fine. You know Uncle Eli, he never wavers.”
She pats my hand as I set down my fork. “That’s good. You want a man like that in your life.”
I wish he could be that man in my life, but I know I can’t live with him forever.
He’s never so much as mentioned another woman, but I’m sure that’s just because I’m around. He’s got a fiercely protective streak and bringing someone else into his life with me at home, just isn’t his way.
For him to move on, I need to move out. But that thought makes me want to curl into a ball and sob. Life without Eli seems…impossible. He’s been everything to me. Even through my moody years, when I’m sure I tried his patience. He didn’t know what to do with a preteen girl besides cook and clean and sew and put up with her tantrums with stoic calm, but he was my rock.
What he doesn’t know, is I received three full-ride scholarships. I only applied because Mrs. Nutbeyer said she’d give me an F in Home Economics if I didn’t. I’ve kept a perfect 4.15 grade point and no wrinkly old anti-feminist was going to change that, so I filled out three applications for the same schools Marcy chose. I used her address too, and when she brought me the envelopes one at a time over the course of a month, to my shock, as long as I remained in good standing at the school, all four years were paid, including dorm and meal plan.
The other thing Eli doesn’t know is, in bed at night, in the quiet of my room, I hug my pillow, press my fingers to that achy, needy spot between my legs, and call him Daddy.
