Leaving the Comfort Cafe (6 page)

“I can assure you, you’ll receive no bill. But I’m curious, how is it Blythe came to Conyers? I mean, you said she was living out West.”

“Well, her grandfather died. Or maybe he went crazy. One or the other. Maybe he died from being crazy. Said she wanted to get away from it as far as she could. Someplace far away where nobody knew her. What could be farther than eastern North Carolina?”

“You’ve got a point. So I guess you won’t be suing the town over any snake eggs?”

“The day’s still young.” She hung up.

Austin took the phone cord and let the receiver untangle itself, dangling it by the cord, watching it spin like a disgruntled top. It spun clockwise, slowed, and then started spinning counterclockwise, as if the ground beneath his office was some type of vortex that caused objects to bend, toss, spin and hurl at its whim. When the phone was set free, Austin placed it back in its cradle and rubbed his eyes.

Hoed it to death?

He stood up and walked out of his office toward Queen’s desk, somewhat rubber-kneed. He felt like he had received some magical type of “do over,” just like when he was playing backyard baseball and just missed the sweet spot of the bat. Do over! Do over! Then he’d get another chance to swing. He went to the small coffee station in the corner of the lobby and poured himself another cup.

“Who was on the phone to make you wear such a silly grin?” Queen asked.

“Snake Lady. Her snake problem is solved.”

“She’s moving?”

“No. Blythe took care of her snakes. Even gave her some type of touchstone that changes color whenever a snake’s around.”

“A what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s a magical stone.” Austin made air quotes around the word “magical.” “I’m not complaining. That Blythe lady has already made my life a lot easier.”

“For now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, the mayor hates her. Don’t let him know she did anything on behalf of the town.”

“It wasn’t on behalf of the town.”

“Then don’t let her say it was on behalf of the town.”

“I thought the mayor was obsessed with the homeless and hated hippies.”

“Hm. Well, maybe hate is a strong word. I’d say he resents hippies. Probably because his daughter is one.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Dropped out of college to find herself. Or maybe she got kicked out. Girl smoked way too much weed. I think she’s living on Ocracoke Island renting jet skis to tourists, which is where you’ll end up if the mayor thinks you’re cozy with Blythe.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Which one? Renting jet skis in the middle of nowhere, smoking weed, or getting cozy with Blythe?”

Cozy with Blythe.
It seemed to run off her tongue too easily, as if Queen had some type of crystal ball hotline to the future and she could sense trouble heading into town long before it showed up on the horizon.

“I guess I’d better keep an eye on her,” Austin said.

“Well, don’t keep that eye too close. That’s some baggage you don’t need.”

“What do you mean?”

Queen looked around the office, giving Austin the impression that even though the lobby was empty, she wanted to be sure no one was in earshot. “I’m not trying to sound hateful…I mean, bless her heart, she’s had a tough life.” Southerners always prefaced dishing dirt on someone with “bless her heart” or “God bless him” as if these compliments in someway diffused the venom of their gossip.

“Are you talking about her grandfather?”

Queen sighed and formed a “tsk, tsk” purse with her lips. “It’s a sad story. Worst of all, her brother was driving and she lost both of them in one accident. Off of I-ninety-five. He was decapitated, and then the car caught fire. His head plum rolled off into the Sapony Swamp, and the rescue squad had a hell of a time finding it. Head rolled plum off.”

“So…he was killed nearby?”

“Well, just beyond the Virginia state line.”

“I thought he was Navajo or something.”

Queen snickered. “Blythe’s grandfather was as white as your behind. I think he owned an army surplus store right outside of Savannah.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Why?”

“Because Snake Lady told me something different.”

“And you’re surprised Snake Lady’s stories don’t match up? Seriously though, Blythe’s really kind of pathetic when you think about it. I heard Blythe’s parents died from some rare skin disease. They were living in Knoxville at the time, until they moved to Baltimore because Johns Hopkins medical school wanted to study her folks. They figured, hey, it was free health care. But they never made it. Less than a week after they arrived, both her parents were dead. That was the last of her line. She’s the only one in town with no relatives living nearby. I thought it sounded strange, but Blythe could never tell me enough about what skin disease they were supposed to have. Said she’d much rather forget the whole thing happened.”

“No relatives at all?”

“I think she was shuffled back and forth through foster homes for a while, she lived with her aunt in Charlotte who is some famous writer and raging alcoholic, although I’d never heard of her, and I read the best-seller list all the time so she mustn’t be that famous if I’ve never heard of her. Other than some hissy fit at the Comfort Café every now and then, she kind of stays to herself. Kind of like you, I guess. Only with a personality.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember that when I step off my desk to hang myself.”

When the mayor arrived for this weekly roundup, he was wearing one of those fancy, formal cowboy hats country music stars wear in photographs for their CD covers. Austin didn’t know if the mayor regularly wore cowboy hats, or if he was just trying to add some local flavor to the weekly roundup. As if Conyers needed any more local flavor.

“Austy, how are you making it this morning?”

“Good morning Mr. Mayor.” Austin escorted the mayor into his office.

“I don’t have much time this morning. I’ve got to go over and review the specifics for this ribbon cutting I’m doing on Friday for Jill Brown’s new beauty shop. It’s going up down over on Third Street. Just a rehearsal.”

Why would you have to rehearse a ribbon cutting? You cut a ribbon—that’s all. How hard can it be?

“I know what you’re thinking, boy.” The grinned. “You’re thinking how hard can a ribbon cutting be? Why do we have to rehearse it?”

Austin froze. Dear God, he can read my mind? He’s one of those really crazy people with ESP. He can probably bend spoons with his mind. He couldn’t read my mind, he…he…

“It’s not about the ribbon. It’s about the votes. The key is to let someone realize, or feel at least, they are the most important constituent out there. That’s why I wanted to see Jill early. So I can look through her beauty shop before all the crowd comes through and maybe, maybe I might suggest my wife take a look into getting her hair done there, unless they have those Cosmo magazines there, Austy. Those things are just smut. Do you know what they write articles about? No, no, I guess you wouldn’t.”

Once Kerry submitted her photography portfolio to Cosmo to see if they would give her an internship. She never heard back from them. Austin told her maybe she had accidentally sent it to the wrong address or maybe it got lost in the mail…and it seemed these half-hearted but well-meaning attempts to make her feel better actually had the opposite effect. She handled rejection best just like she said—ripping off the bandage. Not picking at the scab. Just ripping the hair out by the roots. Because sudden, strong pain was better than a slow, deliberate one. Austin didn’t understand it at the time, but he later realized the worst insult you could give an artist—a true artist—is pacifying insecurities by saying things were going to be okay, even when it was very, very obvious that it was not.

“You listening to me, Austy?”

“Loud and clear.” Austin shifted his weight in his office chair, trying to give the mayor the impression that he was distracted by weighty matters of vital importance to the town instead of Kerry.

“Anyway, do you think you could do that? Get it on the agenda for next week?”

“Sorry?”

“It’s the monthly meeting, Austy. I want to see if Jane’s Bed & Breakfast is in the proper zoning area for a business.”

“Well, it has to be or she wouldn’t have gotten the business permit in the first place. There’s actually a lot of licensing that has to go into—”

“Now, I know you’re new to town, and you’re not really up to speed on the way we do things around here, but don’t you think there may be a need to re-zone her neighborhood, you know, to be sure there aren’t any undesirable elements or disruptions that can be brought into town with her bed and breakfast? Especially if she brings in those artists and hippies.”

“Well, first, we can’t simply change the zoning because we feel like it. Even if we did, I’m not sure it would have much effect on what you’re worried about. Jane could simply have an artist visit her as a personal overnight guest. We don’t have the right to pry into what goes on in her private home. We’re not the Gestapo.” Austin regretted it the moment he said it. Too bold, too aggressive, too soon. What if, what if just maybe, maybe, the mayor did have the ability to read minds? Maybe the man was reading him right now, pulverizing Austin’s temples with some type of invisible radiation that had been passed down throughout the mayor’s family due to some errant DNA.

“Austin…do you know about her last guest?”

Austin immediately paid attention because the mayor hadn’t called him Austy.

“Her last guest showed up at midnight. Said her Honda broke down. She had walked all the way from the interstate. Gave Jane this sob story. So Jane lets her call someone. Then the woman says this person can’t come pick her up until the next morning and can she stay over. Jane says sure, because, hell, it’s a bed and breakfast. I don’t even think she charged her the full amount. Next morning, Jane notices some funny things about her, like her shoes. She was wearing these hiking boots, but the next morning at the breakfast table she was barefoot, and her feet had all these scratches on them. Fresh ones, too. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere. Jane asked how her car was and the lady said she’d have to take it down to the BMW dealership because it was the only place that would work on it. Only the night before, the woman told Jane it was a Honda. So Jane gets suspicious, calls the police. It ended up this woman’s from the state prison. She’d broken out. She shattered the window of a thrift store and got her some new clothes to get rid of that prison orange jumpsuit. That’s how come her feet were all bloody. She got some glass in them or something.”

Austin lowered his eyebrows. It was what he liked to do when he was mulling over what someone was saying to him. It was an effective way of not letting them think he was skeptical.

“Well,” Austin said, “it’s unfortunate, but it sounds like it could happen to anyone.”

“It could have put everyone in danger. She’s like that, Austin. So trusting, so, so Pollyanna about everything. Like she’s going to just start this artist residency and everything will just be peachy, just plum peachy. Like after that all the town’s problems will be over, and we’ll all hold hands and sing “Kum Ba Yah” and buy everyone a puppy.”

“So…”

“We’ll talk about it at the next meeting. And bring your appetite—we’re having the Comfort Café bring in snacks and desserts. Kind of give us a sugar buzz to get through the evening.” The mayor laughed as if this was also funny. He stood up and rubbed his chin like he was posing for a portrait that would be painted in his honor.

“The Comfort Café,” Austin began…dare I even mention it? Or can his ESP already pick out what I’m going to say? “Doesn’t that waitress work there, that, what’s- her-name?

“Blythe?”

“Yeah. What’s her story?” I’ve got two versions. Let’s see what else is out there.

“You stay away from that girl, son. She’s nothing but a harpy straight from Manhattan.”

“Manhattan?”

“Yeah, from up North somewhere.”

“Really? I thought she was from out West.”

“No, no, heavens no. She’s got questionable breeding, son. I think her dad is a Canadian.”

“Who told you that?”

“Well…” the mayor paused, as if for the first time he could not string words together. “She did. That is, I think she did. I mean, who would make up something like that?”

Indeed. Who would?

After the mayor left the office, Austin sat in his temperamental office chair and stared at his computer screen. A screen saver displayed a bouncing cube that changed colors and shapes every time it hit a corner, transforming into something slightly different every few seconds. Nothing too dramatic, just a color shift here and there, and an occasional spiky corner that transformed the smooth cubed corners into a star. Austin found a small notepad beside the computer mouse. He felt his mind trying to wrap around the embezzling waitress, the desert vixen, the bill scofflaw warden, the snake-slayer, the warrior, the magician, and maybe even…

He made broad, dashing strokes with his pen, crafting together diagrammatic lines that could, at first glance, be mistaken for a doodle drawn by someone who had been placed on hold by a computerized phone tree and was forced to listen to horrific arrangements of Billy Joel songs performed by flutes. But closer examination demonstrated that, like Blythe’s magical touchstone, the lines had purpose. He drew her red hair flaming behind her, her eyes leveled at some enemy she sensed sneaking behind her. She grasped a coffeepot in one hand and two snakes in the other, choking the life out of them like the infant Hercules of ancient lore.

Austin knew that, as always, the truth would be much, much more bizarre.

Austin returned to the Comfort Café that afternoon although he wasn’t even remotely hungry. He felt obligated to order something and give Blythe a nice tip as a thank you for alleviating his problems with the Snake Lady and providing a dessert courtesy of the mayor. The sign in the café window advertising the best pecan pie in the world had been reprinted in a nice bold font, evidently completed on someone’s home computer. Though much more legible, it didn’t hold the same kind of inviting taste bud temptation of the handwritten version. Outside the café on the pay phone, a lovely Latina with thick, shoulder-length hair met Austin’s eyes as she talked slowly and deliberately on the line. “Si…mi novio nuevo…es muy divertido y guapo…amiable…”