Whispering Winds of Appalachia by John Ellington

Author:John Ellington
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literary fiction
ISBN: 9798989508815
Publisher: JOHN ELLINGTON
Published: 2023-11-22T09:19:10+00:00

“Come on, Paul,” I said to myself the following night as Brook and I waited in the driveway of the house he—his parents, really—rented that semester.

“Oh, don’t be in such a rush. Just enjoy the moment, Chris,” Brook said from the passenger seat.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have an exam in two days. At least I’m actually coming,” I retorted. Maddy decided to prioritize our exam over a night in Asheville, and thus was not joining us that evening. It was probably better that way. The last thing I wanted was for this to feel like a double date.

“Whatever, since when do you need to study anyway? You are so smart!” The way she said it left me wondering if she was truly complimenting me or rather being sarcastic. I was smart back then, though, and really didn’t need to study anymore. The same could probably not be said for Paul, who, after starting the previous semester with great grades, had underperformed on the last two exams he had taken. Some doctor he will make.

“Look, here he comes now! Get in, Paul. Chris is getting so grumpy!” She playfully punched my arm.

The drive to Asheville from Brevard involves driving thirty or so minutes on a straight mountain highway, over several rivers and past forests and cow pastures.

“There’s another dairy that went under,” Paul said quietly as we passed a dilapidated pasture fence with an empty barn offset in the background.

“Nice, Paul. Way to read the room,” I said, looking back at him in disbelief. Is he trying to make Brook upset?

Brook didn’t respond, but instead asked, “What are you guys getting for dinner? I think I’m going to get some pecan trout with grits!”

My stomach growled in response as I thought about my dinner selection. It had been a while since we drove to Asheville for dinner. The last time we went, Walker had been with us. I shook the thought from my head. “I think I’m going to get some steak and potatoes, something that will stick to the ribs.”

“I just can’t wait to start drinking. I’ve been studying for over an hour, and I’m ready to let loose,” Paul said from the back seat.

“A whole hour? My goodness, how do you do it?” was my response, making Brook giggle.

It was dark by the time we arrived at the steakhouse. Dinner was fairly uneventful, as we were all more occupied with filling our stomachs than having small talk. Brook and Paul polished off a bottle of pinot noir, and I drank whiskey on the rocks. It was the best dinner we’d had in a while, and we even shared cheesecake for dessert. After we finally rose from the table, Brook said, “Let’s walk around downtown. I want to go down by the river.” We agreed and walked down Main Street toward the French Broad River, a dirty, brown tailwater that I liked to call Trasheville River, mostly because I had never had luck catching fish out of it.

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