The Body by RJ Martin

Author:RJ Martin [Martin, RJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2016-05-29T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE CRAGGY-FACED waitress wore too much lipstick and carried a greasy but awesome-looking cheeseburger. The truckers’ butts were too wide for the counter stools, and they hung like saddlebags over the sides. A crew of weathered-looking highway workers sat around a big table made of sliding several littler ones together. Their orange snowsuits hung halfway off and they drank coffee and sat way back like they lived there. There was also a pack of Mémé-like Quebecois on a dinner break before reboarding their bus to New York or somewhere. The music didn’t stop, but all of these different groups paused at once—old western saloon style—from their food, coffees, and chitchatting about nothing in nowhere. Rusty Naylor strutted by them with my puffy coat down off his shoulders like he was a diva with a mink stole. As we made our way to a booth in the back, I did a quick scan and saw a lot of these tired, bored eyes staring at me too. I’d never gotten that kind of attention before except at Mass. Even there I was a supporting player. Here, in Rusty’s hipster, shearling-collared coat, I changed from being Jonah Gregory, weird zealot from Lake Henry, to a summer person: a line.

“You like it?” Rusty grinned as he surveyed the truck stop’s drab cluster of green vinyl booths and cake stands filled with pies like the place was some exotic oasis and not a roadside dive.

“It’s cool,” I lied and didn’t at the same time. There was something exhilarating about being this far north, close enough to the border the signs were in French and English. There were billboards for duty-free shops too, and the mountains had receded behind us as we approached the vast Laurentian Plains. I think Rusty might’ve kept going except we were minors, and therefore couldn’t cross into Canada without a parent.

On the other hand, the brick box of a diner, surrounded by a sea of big rigs, depressed me too. Everyone looked tired and a little sad. Like they wanted to get somewhere but weren’t sure of their route. Maybe I was coming down from being high.

The waitress took our waters from the pimply, yawning busboy whose dark features made me think he might be at least part Native American. There was a big reservation that straddled the border. She flashed Rusty a wide smile revealing her tobacco-stained teeth and put them on the table herself.

“Two cheeseburgers deluxe, medium rare.” Rusty glanced around and grimaced. “Better make that medium and two sodas.”

“Make sure to save room for some of our homemade pie.” She lingered as if this might be her one and only chance to look at him. Rusty was handsome in that way, that more than usual, model way. I’d forgotten because he didn’t act stuck-up like I thought guys like that would. At least he didn’t with me.

“I’ll be sure to do that, Hilda.” Rusty read it off her nametag.

“That’s not fair.” She still hadn’t left and ordered my food.

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