Carver Pike - Scalp

Grant was a handyman. He would have his breakfast, talk to Sally a bit, and then he’d go home and get back to working on the fish tank stand he’d been commissioned to craft for the Fish & Things down the street. He furnished a lot of the local shops, and he always did mighty fine work, but this thing was going to be a real piece of art. He thought he might focus on fish tank stands for a while. He might even be able to sell some of his work to the bigger shops in the city. They’d pay more. His priority would always be to the local stores though. That was the American way, and Grant Pope was a true American.

Damn, it’s really quiet out here.

Poe’s Pets still had the lights off inside. Poe wouldn’t open up shop until at least ten. His dad used to be up before dawn taking care of the animals in there. The newer generation didn’t respect hard work. They slept in until the last possible moment and closed shop as soon as they could.

The Smoke Shop, which was now called The Smoke and Vape, wouldn’t open until noon.

It’s a wonder these places make any damn money around here.

A car turned into the small parking lot behind Lyle’s Barber Shop. Old man Lyle would be stopping by The Diner too. He was one of the few people in town Grant got along with.

Grant finally got out of his truck and made his way into The Diner. The bell rang above his head as he entered. Sally glanced up, smiled, and waved hello.

“Sally,” he said.

“Grant.”

“See I’m your first customer.”

“You’re always our first customer.”

He took a seat at the counter. Sometimes he picked a booth, but today he wanted to be closer to her. She continued doing her chores but stopped long enough to pour him a cup of coffee. It was an easy and quick interruption since he drank his coffee black with no sugar. Grant wouldn’t dare blow on his cup or take a cautionary sip the way other people always did. He liked it hot, and when it was blazing enough to burn his tongue, he enjoyed it even more.

Grant sipped and then winced, savoring the sting that scorched his throat.

“Mmm, nice and hot,” he said.

“You always say that.”

“‘Cause your coffee always is.”

“I know how you like it,” she flirted.

“You damn sure do.”

If anyone else were around to hear the conversation, they might have thought the two were engaged in dirty talk. This was their usual way. He’d say something normal, she’d spice it up a bit and toss the ball back to him, he’d add something on top of that, and it would go on like this until one of them ran out of stuff to say.

“Ready for something to eat?” she asked. “I’m sure Roy’s got the grill heated by now.”

Roy was a big ol’ country boy who’d been working at The Diner nearly as long as Sally. He wasn’t much of a talker though. He enjoyed cooking and hardly ever left the kitchen.

“In a bit,” Grant said. “Right now, I’m just here to enjoy the view.”

Sally blushed and looked down at the counter. If there was a moment he fell in love with her, it was right then. Her dimples were more pronounced than usual and that sparkle in her eye woke him up better than any cup of coffee ever could. He wasn’t ready for breakfast because he was filled with a fondness for her.

Fondness. Really? Fondness? That’s the best you can do?

Their flirting was always interrupted at some point, and this morning, it was interrupted by an elderly couple stopping in for breakfast.

Grant glanced over his shoulder, saw them, and returned to his steaming hot mug. “Kind of early for regular customers, ain’t it?”

Sally shrugged. “You ain’t the only person in my life, Grant Pope. I got others.”

“I knew it.”

“Keep that in mind if you ever decide to do me wrong.”

“Noted.”

They both laughed as she walked over to the couple now seated in a booth.

“We just need some breakfast,” the old man said. “We need to get on the road. Visiting our granddaughter at Marshall today.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Sally replied. “You mean Anna?”

“No, she’s at WVU,” the old lady replied. “Leeanne is at Marshall.”

Grant didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but they weren’t exactly speaking in hushed tones. This was another reason he was infatuated with Sally. She knew and cared about every person who walked through that door. She didn’t even own The Diner. Guy Miller owned the place but was too old to make frequent trips through his restaurant doors. Grant always wondered if Guy would leave something to Sally when he passed. With no kids of his own, she was the closest thing he had to a daughter.

Maybe Sally will end up owning this place someday. It should be called Sally’s Diner anyway.

As Sally took the couple’s order, a younger couple entered and sat in a booth not far from the first. It seemed breakfast time was starting a little earlier than usual today. This younger couple told Sally something about visiting a family member at Marshall too. It must have been one of those open house days. It made sense folks would want to get an early start then.

Fifteen minutes and a fresh cup of coffee later, a few other patrons were seated. Ronald Mosley read his newspaper at the corner booth the way he always did. Harrison and Constance sat together sharing a giant plate of biscuits and gravy. They came in for breakfast a few days a week. Harrison made Constance breakfast at home the other days. Her dementia had taken its toll and Harrison now took care of her the way a dad might have to look after his daughter. They were a sweet couple though.

“Ready for another cup?” Sally asked as she swung back around his way.

She was a great waitress. She never missed a beat.

“Two is fine for me. You know, three and I get jittery. Need my hands to be calm so I can work.”

“What are you building now?”

“Finishing up a fish tank stand.”

“Don’t forget you promised me a coffee table.”

He had, and he hadn’t forgotten. He wanted to make that table for her so badly, but he got nervous thinking about it, and Grant never got nervous. Something about her excited him, and he was terrified he’d make a mistake and ruin it.

“You promised me if I made it, you’d invite me over to watch a movie and set my feet on top of it,” he reminded her.

“I did promise that. Seems that wasn’t enough to get you working on it.” She slapped his shoulder with a folded over newspaper as she walked away.

Grant wasn’t much of a reader, but he did enjoy some of the classics. He’d read The Great Gatsby once, and he remembered his tenth-grade teacher giving him an assignment involving that damned green light in the book. He’d hated the assignment, but now, as he thought about the coffee table, he realized it was his green light. Having that possibility of building it and spending time at Sally’s house with her almost seemed too fragile. Like if he touched that dream, it might shatter and cease to exist. So, he didn’t build the table. If he did, it would be like grabbing hold of that green light. Once he did that, it was all over.

Or maybe it all begins, you dummy. Maybe that’s when the dream truly begins.

He wanted to believe that would be true, but he had a feeling even if Sally gave him a chance, she’d grow tired of him soon enough. He was boring, he didn’t have energy like he used to, and he was pretty set in his ways. Women didn’t like men like that. She deserved better.

Grant’s thoughts were disturbed by the bell jingling over the door. Another customer had entered. Only this one didn’t look so great. She was slumped forward, her fingers curled, and it looked like drool was dripping from her mouth. Her hair hung down from the sides of her head, practically covering her face, and it looked wet. Like she’d swam through a river to get here for breakfast.