by C D Cain
Sam stirred her fork around her potatoes. “Do you really believe that?”
“I have to.”
“I need that.”
“Need what?”
“Belief.” Sam sighed and looked out the window again. She had continually been drawn to the two large boulders that lay in the green grass out by the picnic tables. “Belief in something. Anything really at this point in my life. I have no idea what or where I’m supposed to go from here.”
“Open your eyes.” Gentry’s tone was matter-of-fact.
“You make it sound easy.”
“It is. Open your eyes to it and you’ll see it.”
Sam looked back at Gentry. “You’re like this total bad ass in a tiny package. I’ve done things that rock a subtle badass exterior but nothing insane like what you’re doing.” Sam paused. “I don’t mean insane as a bad thing.”
“Ummmm. Okay.”
“It’s a compliment. Trust me. I mean you’re like…” Sam ran her hand through her hair and glanced around the room as she tried to find the right words she wanted to convey. “Idgie,” she said loudly as it came to her. She quieted her voice. “You’re this tiny little woman with this huge zest for life. You’re going to do it your way. By your own hands. With or without anyone. Yet, there’s also this tender side that cares for the people around you. That wants to take care of them. Look at me. Here I am some total stranger who you knew would enjoy this place so here I am invading in on your time.” Sam shook her head. “I’m impressed with the person you are. And I’m entirely envious of your bravery in taking life by the horns. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Thank you,” Gentry said quietly. She watched as the thin branches from the tree blew lightly to scrape over the roof of the shack beneath it. She heard the words Sam said and the sentiment behind them. Sure she fashioned herself to be like Idgie, yet she couldn’t deny that a large part in her felt more like Ol’ Smokey Lonesome, the lonely drifter who slept in the shack out back of the Whistle Stop Café.
“Fresh from the oven. Hope you saved room.” The waitress placed two plates filled with peach cobbler on the table.
“You know we did,” Gentry said. She waited for the waitress to move on to her next table.
Silently, the women ate their cobbler with their attention kept outside—Sam’s upon her boulders basking in spring’s sun and Gentry’s on the log shack with a rusted tin roof. The corner of the wooden-plaque sign that displayed “Home of Ol’ Smokey Lonesome” lifted off the side of the building when the wind blew the strongest across it.
“Have you not? Have you not ever been brave in something?” Gentry asked as she designed a perfect bite of both peaches and crust.
“I have, but it’s different.”
“How so?”
“It’s not like I took off across the country to start a new life or built a home out of a retired bus. All I did was stand up to my father when it came time to choose my career. That’s it. Then I became a weak blubbering mess when something I hoped for didn’t work out.”
“Tell me more about your dad’s thing.”
“He wanted me to be in cardiothoracic surgery like he is. Join the family practice, if you will. I never wanted to practice cardiac medicine. And I especially never wanted to work with him. To be with him every single day would’ve been utter hell. At UAB, I was in a specialized OB/Gyn fellowship. That’s what I wanted to do—women’s health. More specifically complicated pregnancy and reproductive medicine. I fought him every step of the way to stay in the program.”
“See. You made your own choice and fought for it.”
“True. But here I am, sitting in a diner with absolutely no idea where I want to go the minute I walk out the door. If I was as strong as you, I wouldn’t be here. I would be back at UAB practicing the medicine I fought to practice, no matter what had happened to me. But one thing goes wrong and bam, I break.”
“What went wrong?”
Rayne’s face flashed in Sam’s thoughts. “I fell in love. For the first time in my life,” she said quietly as she cut into the remaining pie with her fork. The vision of Rayne grew stronger to bring her voice and laughter to Sam as if she was sitting right next to her. “She was amazing.” She inhaled and shook her head. “But she broke my heart. She destroyed me.” She played with the pie until she had it piled onto her fork. “I couldn’t stay anywhere that reminded me of her. Seeing places that we had been or things we had done, broke me a little more.” Eventually, she released the fork to leave the perfectly designed bite resting on the plate. “Besides, how could I work there? All I thought about was her or how bad it hurt to lose. It’s all I focused on. How in the hell could I practice like that? My patients deserved better than me. They didn’t need some broken doctor who might fuck up life and death choices because she kept running to the bathroom to cry.” Sam huffed. “So, I ran away. It hurt too much to stay. Now, I don’t even know what I want to do anymore. A woman did to me what my asshole father had tried to do so many times before. She broke me.”
Gentry studied Sam. Sam had laid it all out on the table and it had left her speechless. Broken. She actually described herself as broken. Gentry knew exactly how that felt.
The silence began to make Sam uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I said too much.”
“Too much?”
“Yeah. I was too blunt. I’m sorry.”
“You’re apologizing to me for being hurt to the point of feeling broken? Why on earth would you apologize for that?”
“Not really for that. For the lesbian part.”
“You’re sorry you’re a lesbian?”
Sam balled her napkin up and tossed it onto her plate. “No. For blurting out I was,” she said with frustration.
“Sam, I could care less about you being a lesbian. Who you fall in love with is who you fall in love with. It doesn’t matter what sex they are. You’ll get no judgment from me about anything at all.” She leaned down to make eye contact with Sam who was staring in her lap. “Ever. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’m just sorry you were hurt so badly.”
Sam looked up. A fresh tear trailed down her face to her jaw before she roughly wiped it with the back of her hand. “Yeah, me too.”
“You know, I already knew that about you. That you’ve been hurt. Are hurting. It’s written on you like it’s been tattooed to your skin. A permanent stain you can’t wash, wipe, or cry away. I’m sorry for your pain. But can I tell you something?” Gentry ran her fingers across her bottom lip.
Sam looked up. “Sure.”
“It takes a special soul to carry the hurt like you do. I know now that it’s why you’re here. Here with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s why you’re the one and only to know where I’m headed. Why you’re sitting here with me. Sam, not everyone can feel the depth of pain like you are. It tells me things about you that you can’t possibly describe in words. It shows me your soul.”
Sam looked up at the light and wiped forcefully at the tears flowing down her cheeks. “It tells you I’m weak.”
“Is that what you think of me? I’m weak?”
“Of course not.”
“How do you think I see it so easily in you? I’ve worn this pain. Not for the same reasons but the depth to your pain. The brokenness you feel? I’ve carried it all with me. Tattoos buried below my skin.”
Sam eyed the big bus and thought of the woman who built it as anything but weak.
After finishing lunch, they decided to walk outside to see more closely the objects that had captivated them during lunch. Sam brushed her hand across the top of the boulder to feel the warmth the sun had left. She wiped the dirt from its crevices and sat down. The sun felt warm on her face. Not hot, just warm. She closed her eyes and listened to the branches scratching over a tin roof. Gentry ducked h
er head to peep inside the shack. An opening in the logs from some kind of crack or defect let light shine into the center of the dirt floor. Otherwise, it was dark…cold. She ran her hand over the engraved lettering of the plaque. Her finger traced along the word “Lonesome.” She turned back to see Sam sitting in the sun. In the sunlight her hair looked blonder. She could make out the highlights in it more clearly. Her head was lifted up into the sky as she sat still on the rock. She seemed content to sit there. No movement needed. The stillness seemed to be her companion. Gentry walked to the rock barbecue pit, yet another memorable prop from the movie.
“Come with me,” Gentry said as she sat on its edge.
“I’m sorry?” Sam looked over her shoulder to where Gentry’s voice came from. She stood from the boulder and walked over to her. The feeling from the dirt was held upon those rocks as well when she ran her hand across them and sat down next to Gentry. “What did you say?”
“I said come with me. For as far and as long as you need or want. Driving around aimlessly or staying in motels along the highway may not give you the answers you need, but maybe a road trip with a new friend will. You can come all the way to Maine or pull off of the road at any point you want. When you’ve found your answers, you’ll know it’s time to go your own way. But while you feel this unknowing, why not come with me?” Gentry shrugged her shoulders. “I have room in the bus. No strings attached.”
Sam felt a scream within her of a resounding yes. Except, wasn’t it totally insane to consider such an offer? She was a professional, educated woman…how in hell does an offer like that sound plausible in any way? But…it did. In fact, it sounded like the first ray of light in her otherwise gray world. It sounded like sunlight warming the top of a boulder as it lay in the grass. That’s what it sounded like. “Why? Why would you offer such a thing to me?” she ended up asking.
“I told you. I’ve worn pain like this before. It chokes the breath from your lungs. If it hadn’t been for a woman selflessly helping me to process it, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. Now it’s my turn to do the same for you, if you want it.” She strained her neck to see the light from the defect in the wall shining onto the dirt floor. “Besides, you’re a light. A ray of sunlight.”
“I feel nothing like that.”
“You don’t, but you are. Trust me.”
Sam rubbed the dirt from the rocks between her fingers. She didn’t see any of what Gentry seemed to see in her. Although, she wished she did.
“Look. I don’t mean to freak you out. It’s just an option for you. Nothing more,” Gentry said with a hint of regret in her voice. Her goal hadn’t been to make Sam feel worse than she already did. She honestly thought it would be a good solution for where Sam was. She was going with her feelings without thinking them fully through. She didn’t regret the offer but did regret the uncomfortableness it was causing Sam. “It felt right to ask you to come along. That’s all. I learned a long time ago to let life guide me instead of trying to control what happens to me. You had absolutely no control over what happened with this woman. But you do have control over your next step. It’s in your power to decide where you go from here. I was merely giving you an option.” She watched the expressions on Sam’s face as she stared across the lawn. She started to reach for her arm but withdrew her hand to place it back in her lap. “Do you believe in universal guidance or God or anything along those lines?”
Sam was surprised with Gentry’s question and looked back at her. “I guess I do.”
“Do you believe we are led to the paths meant for us? That there is some force showing us the signs toward the path we need to take?”
“I used to.”
“Bad things happen sometimes. Bad things we can’t explain. I have to believe there’s a reason we have to go through those things or well,” Gentry paused and looked back at the shack, “why even keep on going if there isn’t? For me, I believe the bad stuff is a way of opening us up to truly appreciate the good when it comes. If we follow the signs, we’ll find that good. Trust me. I’m just as shocked as you that we’re here.” She motioned between them. “Look at us. What pieces of the puzzle added up to put us here? It has to mean something. I didn’t picture anyone on the road with me before this very moment. Now, it seems unnatural for you not to be going with me. Open your eyes to them. That’s all I’m saying. Just open your eyes.”
“Them?”
“The signs. I’m following them. Are you?”
“I would be absolutely no help to you. You know that, right? I’m a city girl. I know how to function in a hotel room. That’s it. I have no idea how to do what you do.”
“From here, I’m only looking at stopping three more nights. Unless of course, I see something I want to do. If it makes you more comfortable, you can always grab a hotel room close to where I’ll be.” Gentry pinched her bottom lip between her thumb and index finger as she thought about hotel options for Sam. “There were signs for hotels not too far from where we are now. We can stop here for the night to give you time to think about it. I don’t mind. But if you’re worried about being helpful, I’ll let you do the dishes. I hate washing dishes.” Gentry smiled and hoped the joke would lighten the tension.
Sam had seen Gentry’s eyes. Without putting a description to it, she had noticed the pain there. She had even noticed the change in the lightness to her eyes when they came up to the Whistle Stop. Yet there was still a darkness to them. Still pain inside of them. You can’t hide your eyes. Rayne had taught her that. Rayne. Sam took in a deep breath. To be truthful, where was she going to go the minute she left The Whistle Stop? Rayne had changed her. It had all changed her. No longer did she find herself wanting the fast-paced life of a demanding career in a big city filled with entertainment and perpetual dating. Over the last months, she had tried desperately to pinpoint how Rayne got in so deeply. What it was about her that changed everything. She had fallen in love with everything about Rayne. The simplicity of what loving her meant. The completeness she had found when she was at the small cabin on the bayou. She had seen happiness in Rayne’s eyes there. She had felt it too. When it all came to an end, Sam knew her longing was as much for Rayne as it was the feeling she got in the effortlessness of life while with her. Maybe feeling that again would ease her pain or at least start her healing. Drinking herself into oblivion alone in a hotel room sure as hell wasn’t doing the trick.
Chapter 8
“Gentry?” Sam knocked again on the doors of the bus. She stood on her tiptoes to look into the well-lit windows. She saw no motion in the living space. She looked around the dimly lit campground. “Are you here? I’ve got Chinese food,” she said with a quietness in her voice. The sounds of shuffled dirt and cracked twigs was too much for her city girl nerves.
Gentry’s head popped from around the back of the bus. “Great! I’m starving.”
“Shit!” Sam screamed. If not for the bag resting on her wrist, she surely would have thrown dinner all over the ground.
Gentry made no attempts to suppress her laugh. “What the hell?”
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“I see that.” She finished her laughing as Sam bent over with her hands upon her knees.
Sam hadn’t noticed the small tent lying at the edge of the woods when she originally walked up. Or if she had, she assumed it was another camper. Not Gentry. “What on earth are you doing?”
“I’m getting my camp ready for the night.”
“You’re sleeping out here?”
“Yep,” Gentry said over her shoulder as she ducked into the tent.
“But why? You’ve got like this mountain cabin beach thing on wheels going on. Why in the hell would you sleep outside in a tent?”
Gentry walked over to Sam and looked up into the sky. “Look up, city girl. Take a breath in and smell that air.” She inhaled deeply. “The better question is, why the hell would I not?”
>
Sam followed Gentry and took in a deep breath herself. The smell of clean air devoid of industry’s exhaust and contamination filled her nose. Along with it came the smell of fresh pine. “I love the smell of pine.” She breathed in deeply again, seeking only its smell.
“Me too. I could live out here.” Gentry picked up three pieces of wood, carried them closer to the fire ring, and dropped next to it.
“It looks like you are for the night anyway.”
“Truth.”
Sam looked around at the forest in the darkening sky as it went from dusk to night. Soon the trees would blend in together to form a varied line of black against the night sky. She marveled at the different types of pine trees that she saw here at the campground just as she had on their hike in the Green Mountains of New Hampshire. “These aren’t like the pine trees back home.” She walked over to run her fingers along one of the short pine needles. “Some look like them. They’re tall with thick trunks and long needles but there are also some with smaller trunks and short needles in bunches. They remind me of Christmas trees.”
Gentry looked up from the firewood toward Sam. Inwardly, she smiled at the child-like stance she carried. She was standing in front of a smaller pine tree, gazing at it like a child would it’s favorite Christmas tree of the lot. “Do you like Christmas?”
“I love it.” Sam turned to Gentry. “Or well, I used to. The last couple haven’t been that great. Let’s just say Santa didn’t bring me what I asked for.” Sam walked over and stood next to the soon-to-be fire. “Time before last, I wanted to spend it with Rayne so bad that I didn’t enjoy being at home with my mom. Last Christmas was pure hell.” Sam kicked her foot against the stone ring. “Grant had proposed to her at a dinner right before. I didn’t even realize I missed the holiday until I noticed my boxes of decorations hadn’t been touched.”
“Wait a minute.” Gentry held the unlit match in her hand. “Did you say Rayne?”