I'd been living in my Grandparent's house for three weeks. I found myself sometimes referring to it as "Weathering Heights" but no one beside Mom and Wes got it.
"You make the perfect Catherine baby bro," Wes had said when he found me waiting at the end of the drive way for him one night when we had a huge rain storm.
I found a job at the local bookstore, and I was enjoying it as much as I had enjoyed working with Seth. Only I didn't have a crush on any of my coworkers, yet.
Heading to the bar, we only had one, for a beer after work was slowly becoming a ritual for me, though I'd only been in once or twice, usually too tired to drink. I had been happy to see that the biker chick and the old Indian man followed me out to the country.
"Hello Reed," Mac, the owner, called to me and waved me over one night when I stopped by.
"Hi," I said and thanked him for the house beer he placed in front of me.
"How's life down here for you so far?" he wasn't the first person to ask me that today. A few people from around town had dropped by the house earlier to welcome me, it was all nice and good, but I couldn't help but think there was something up I didn't know about.
"Pretty good, how about you?" I asked. He smiled at me and waved around the bar.
"Same as always," he said and turned around, looking for something I guess. He shook his head, and then laughed.
"What?" I asked. I had always hated being left out of things.
"My good-for-nothing kid is hiding in the back room again." Mac said and went into the back room. It seemed every time I came in this kid was hiding, a fact I found extremely odd.
"Hey Mac, I'm going to head out, see you later," I said and finished the last drops of my beer before leaving. I loved bars in small towns, they had taps.
I walked out of the door and onto Main Street, my house wasn't far, an easy walk, but I hated walking it. I hated walking altogether anymore, left me to much time to think.
I was happier here then I had been in the City, but I was lonelier, I missed my family and my old apartment. I knew I'd get over it, but it seemed it would take longer then I'd thought.
*******
"Camble you coward," Mac said. He'd found me in the back room chain smoking. Reed had come to the bar again tonight. And I, again, had run into the back room upon seeing him walk past the windows outside.
"Rhonda was right," I said putting out the cigarette I was smoking before lighting another one.
"That's a first," he said and sat down next to me, pulling the cigarette from my hand and taking a drag himself.
"No, I mean, she was really right. He's beautiful, and it's scaring the shit out of me. I want to talk to him, but I don't know how, I would end up saying something totally stupid."
"Camble, you are the smoothest talker this town has seen since Peter Timmy was a boy, don't go saying shit we both know isn't true." I had learned everything I knew about talking to people from Peter, he'd made it like a game, teaching me things for fun, but really in the end, he'd helped mold me into a person I never dreamed I could be.
"Mac, lets just say I am able to talk to him for once and he is gay?" Mac nodded laughing. "Shut up I'm being serious okay? By some great chance he's gay, and he possibly ends up liking me, I have massive amounts of baggage. Most normal people wouldn't want to deal with it, and I don't blame them, but what if he found out? Do you honestly think that he would stick around from very long?"
"God, you're looking for a soul mate, and all Rhonda wanted was for you to get laid," Mac said and stood up. I dropped my head into my hands and laughed. My family is so fucked up. "Listen Cam, I don't know what he wants, I don't even know if he is looking for someone to date, but I do know that he's a good kid. Remember that he's Emily's grandson okay?"
I nodded and stood also. I made a promise to myself that wouldn't run the next time that I would at least talk to him once. I was never too good at keeping promises to myself though.
*******
"So what you are saying is... you would rather get drunk then talk to me?" Wes asked. He'd called me about the same time I'd gotten home to change clothes.
"No I'm saying that John called and asked me to meet him at the bar at nine, which is about ten minutes from now." I said and sat down on my bed to pull my shoes on.
"Who the hell is John?" Wes asked his voice loud.
"He owns the gas station." This was getting ridiculous. But I could somewhat understand why Wes was acting so weird. I hadn't seen him in a week, and even though we were brothers, we were best friends too. I never thought that my leaving would affect him so much, but it did, and I was starting to feel guilty.
"What were you doing at the gas station?" I don't own a car, scared of driving.
"I walk by their everyday Wes, he's just a local being nice, trying to welcome me, don't be mean," I said. I felt like he was getting too jealous, and I didn't know how to fix it. "I'll call you when I get home okay?" Wes mumbled something before saying bye and hanging up.
I walked down the roads toward the bar, hurrying, not wanting to be rude by being late. When I got there, John was no where in sight. I let out a sigh of relieve, I didn't mind that he was late, I was just glad I hadn't kept him waiting. I walked up to the bar and sat in a stool but neither Mac nor his "good-for-nothing" kid was in sight.
"Hey Mac, you around?" I called out, thinking they were in the back room. "I'm stealing a beer," I said and pulled a mug I knew to be under the bar out, and filled it up from the tap. There were only a few other people in the bar, and they weren't paying much attention to me, which was fine.
I turned around on my stole and watched the windows, wondering when John would get there. Behind me I heard the door swing and I turned to see a man around my age standing there.
"Hey, you new?" I asked him, looking for anyone to talk to. He looked up at me somewhat startled before turning around to look at Mac, who'd just came from the back room also and walked over to where I was sitting.
"Nope," he smiling; he'd gotten his composure back fast it seemed. I smiled back and started looking through my pockets for the pack of cigarettes that should be in them somewhere. I had started smoking once I came to the Town; it entertained me more then anything else, I think. I found them, but then I couldn't find my lighter, I had gotten more forgetful since moving it seemed.
"Here," the man said walking toward me and flicked open a Zippo. It had two male symbols intertwined on its front. I looked up into his eyes as he brought the flame close to the tip of my cigarette. I leaned in a little closer to his hand and inhaled through the filter, lighting it.
"Thanks," I said and gave him another smile. That lighter could only mean that he was playing for my team. That or he didn't care that it could give people the wrong idea. It would be just my luck if it was the second of the two.
