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Down in the Dirt v049

THE OLD HOPE DINER

Mel Waldman

    The snow covered Old Hope, surrounding and closing in on the town like a frozen noose ready to fulfill its fierce destiny. Almost completely cut off from the outside world, Old Hope was breathing its final breaths. And still, the Old Hope Diner remained open amidst the violent storm.
    “Where’s Lucille?” said the pot-bellied middle-aged sheriff who stood almost six feet tall.
    “She’s in the back with Jerry. Be right out.”
    “Good,” the law man said, a crooked smile crawling across his scarred face. “And where’s Eddie tonight?”
    “Couldn’t make it, Joe. The storm stopped him short.”
    “Too bad, Fred,” Joe said in his soft, effeminate voice. “You’ll have to work a double shift tonight.”
    “I’ll live.”
    “You bet. And you work the counter like a champ.”
    “A champ?”
    “Yeah.”
    “No one never tol’ me that. You drunk, Joe?”
    “No. But I could use some real strong black coffee. Gonna be a long night.”
    “Comin’ right up. You take it with four sugars, Joe?”
    “Yeah. Like I always do. Where’s your mind, Fred?”
    “Lost in the storm.”
    “Yeah. Ain’t it now.”
    “Gonna sit at the counter?”
    “No. I’ll sit in a booth. Have Lucille bring it to me ‘long with a ham sandwich.”
    Automatically, Joe’s eyes searched the diner for a booth. In the distance, he noticed the stranger. “Who’s that?”
    “An outsider. Tol’ me he was headin’ east when the storm got real bad. Guess he’ll be here a few hours. Maybe overnight.”
    “He can’t stay, Fred.”
    “But the storm’s real bad,” Fred said nervously, his left cheek twitching.
    “Old Hope’s off limits to outsiders. You shoulda tol’ him, Fred.”
    “Sorry, Joe.”
    And Joe sauntered to the stranger.

    “Howdy, stranger.”
    “Howdy.”
    “Whatya doin’ in Old Hope?”
    “Just passin’ through.”
    “We don’t get too many outsiders in this here town.”
    “Yeah. Almost missed your town. My ol’ Fury was movin’ real smooth and fast when the storm slowed it down. Swept over me and my baby 1-2-3. Kinda lassoed Black Fury real mean. Stopped her real sudden like. And then I saw the sign for Old Hope. Guess I lucked out.”
    “Hell, no, stranger,” Joe said with fire in his azure eyes. “Old Hope don’t take to no outsiders. Now finish your meal and get goin’.”
    “Might need to stay overnight, sheriff.”
    “Ain’t possible.”
    “Could die out there in the snow.”
    “Yeah. But if you stay here, you’ll burn in Hell!”
    The stranger saw the madness in the sheriff’s frenzied eyes. “Guess I’ll be gone soon.”
    “That’s right, stranger.” And crazy Joe drifted off to a corner booth.

    “Hey, Fred. How ‘bout some music? Before I think I’m sittin’ in a cemetery.”
    “Radio’s out, Joe. Must be the storm.”
    “Yeah.”
    Joe sat in the black booth and glared at the stranger. Now, he noticed that the stranger had a boyish look of innocence. He wasn’t a pretty boy and he wasn’t the rough type either. Just plain good lookin’ with this sweet quality that was too damn sugary. He looked maybe 21 or 22. Just a kid. Yet, he made Joe’s blood boil.
    Joe kept eyeing the kid who was busy eating meatballs and spaghetti. The boy didn’t look up once. Still, Joe couldn’t look away. There was something about him-strangely familiar and unfamiliar. Joe’s eyes were fixed on the stranger. So when Lucille emerged from the kitchen, he didn’t see her. She spoke to Fred for a few seconds and vanished into the kitchen. She stayed inside a while. Maybe five minutes. Maybe much longer.
    Eventually, Lucille sashayed out of the kitchen again. Shaking her butt wickedly, she scurried past Joe without acknowledging his existence. Then she rushed to the stranger and gave him a cup of coffee and a big piece of apple pie.
    “Thanks.”
    “Any time, honey. Haven’t seen the likes of you in a long time. Gonna be in town a while?”
    “No. Leavin’ after I finish up.”
    “Too bad, babe. Coulda shown you a good time.”
    “Maybe next time.”
    “Yeah.”
    Joe watched Lucille flirt with the boy. “Hey, Lucille!” Joe cried out. “Lucille!”
    Lucille didn’t answer Joe. But she kept talking sweet to the stranger.
    “Now, honey. Don’t you forget to come back to Old Hope and say hello.”
    “Hey, Lucille!” Joe shouted, hatred pouring out of his ugly skin. “Lucille!” You betta turn ‘round. Now! Right now!”
    Lucille swung around, shaking her hips back and forth. “What’s the matter, Joe?”
    “Where’s my ham sandwich and coffee?”
    Lucille smiled wickedly at Joe and said: “Is that what this is about, sheriff?”
    Joe glared at the sumptuous waitress who was half his age and the never ending object of his poisonous lust. “I ordered the sandwich and coffee a while back. Ain’t that right, Fred?”
    “That’s right, Joe. And I tol’ Lucille to bring it right out.”
    “See, Lucille. You’re late on the order.”
    “So what, Joe?”
    “You’re late, Lucille. Real late.”
    “You sure that’s it, Joe? Or maybe you’re just a bit jealous of this here stranger. Maybe?”
    “I want what’s mine now!”
    Suddenly, Joe got up. He rushed to Lucille and the kid. He stopped about a foot away from Lucille and said: “Go back into that kitchen and get me what I ordered. Now!”
    “No!” said the little woman, about a head shorter than Joe.
    Abruptly, Joe flung his right arm at her. But the boy jumped up, grabbed Joe’s hand, and stopped it from doing any harm.
    “Let her be!”
    “Sure, fella,” Joe said as he threw a left jab at the intruder. But the jab was blocked and made useless.
    Unexpectedly, and almost magically, the stranger pulled a gun out of nowhere. He pointed it at the lame sheriff. And without looking at Lucille, he announced: “Maybe you oughta get the sheriff his food and coffee.”
    “Yeah,” she sighed. And Lucille scurried off.
    “Don’t want no trouble, sheriff.”
    Joe smiled sardonically at the outsider, his frenzied eyes fiercely rolling back and forth.
    “Just give me your gun. No tricks.”
    Joe handed the kid the old piece of steel.
    “Now go back to your booth. Sit down and cool off.”
    “Sure, fella.” And Joe returned to his solitary booth.

    Time danced slowly, its long silence encircling Joe like a burning noose seeking cold flesh. Fire and ice.
    “Lucille, where you at?”
    The outsider looked intently at the sheriff without speaking.
    “Lucille, you gone to Hell?” Sweating and trembling, Joe jumped up.
    “Sit down!” the stranger ordered. “Sit!”
    Joe obeyed. He sat silently in the black booth, swaying back and forth in his seat. Grimacing and gesticulating, he looked like a wild cat smelling danger. But when Lucille appeared, his body stopped moving as if he had been shot with a tranquilizer gun.
    “Here you go, Joe,” Lucille smiled. “Sorry ‘bout the delay.”
    “Guess I made a big stink ‘bout nothin’. Can you forgive an ol’ fool the likes of me?”
    “Sure, Joe.”
    Lucille bent down and kissed Joe on his forehead. “Now drink your coffee and just relax. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”
    “You say the right things, Lucille. That’s why I love you.”
    “I know, Joe. But you hurt me real bad the other night.”
    “Didn’t mean it, honey. I’ll never hit you again. I promise.”
    “I know.”
    “You still love me, Lucille?”
    “Always. And Lucille went into the kitchen.
    Ecstatic, Joe took a few sips of coffee. “Fred, this here coffee’s real good.”
    “We try, Joe.”
    Slowly, Joe drank the coffee, a strange look of tranquility sweeping across his face. At that rare moment of peace, Joe noticed the outsider sitting at the other end of the diner. “Hey, stranger. Sorry ‘bout this trouble I caused you.”
    “No problem.”
    “Well, you can stay in Old Hope as long as you like. Even sleep overnight if the storm don’t stop.”
    “Thanks, but I think it’s almost over.”
    “Hope you’re right.”

    The radio came on. It just happened. Nice an’ easy. He heard the sounds. Real natural an’ soothing. And the voice. It sounded familiar. It was Eddie. Eddie’s voice-a pleasant surprise.
    “This is a special announcement. At midnight ...”
    Joe checked his watch. It was only five minutes to twelve.
    “At midnight, Sheriff Joe passed away in the Old Hope Diner. He died of a heart attack. The town of Old Hope says-‘Goodbye, Joe.’ Joe died for us. And the town of Old Hope is saved. For one more year. Folks, the storm is over. Bye, Joe.”
    Joe didn’t fight it. He saw the familiar stranger in the corner. “Who are you, boy?”
    “Don’t you recognize me, Joe?”
    “Kinda.”
    “Think back, Joe. The way you used to be. Who you coulda been.”
    Joe looked at the other and a wave of sadness passed through him. The poignant memories and lost dreams touched him deep. “Guess it’s too late.”
    “Only in this world, Joe.”
    At midnight, the painless poison in Joe’s coffee took effect. And Joe slipped away into another world where beautiful possibilities still existed.

    The others emerged and gathered together around the stranger.
    “The town of Old Hope is saved. I won’t be back. Next year, someone else will come in my place. And someone else will die.”
    They nodded in agreement.
    “Don’t let the hate build up. The violence is killing Old Hope. Learn to love. It’s your only hope.”
    “Yes,” they said in unison.
    “In the meantime, you’ve got a year to choose another one. All that hatred-it’s got to be siphoned off. But if you could learn to love. If...”

    Outside, the storm stopped. The snow covered Old Hope, but now it was a blanket of peace. Old Hope was breathing gently, like a joyous baby in the arms of a loving mother.
    In the distance, a familiar stranger vanished in the snow.



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