driving for a long time. I was getting restless and anxious to get out of the car and stretch my legs. Once or twice, I glanced over at the Reverend and saw a strange look on his face—worried, maybe, or concerned at least.
We’re lost, I thought. He has no idea where we are. But then, no we can’t be lost. This is Reverend Childe’s old stomping ground, right? He knows it like the back of his hand.
And then, no. We’re lost.
I decided to let that one brew in my head for a little while and said nothing.
We made Holly Springs fifteen minutes later and found a little diner across the road from a ramshackle garage. Reverend Childe ordered a cheeseburger and fries and heavily sweetened iced tea. My mouth still hurt, so I ate a soft open turkey sandwich, chewing on the right side. The place was clean, only slightly busy, and the jukebox in the corner played country music from the sixties.
The Reverend ate his cheeseburger with quiet intensity, enjoying it, only looking up once in a while to grin at me with his mouth full. I gummed my sandwich, humming “It’s Only Make Believe” with Conway Twitty on the jukebox.
Sipping my Coke, I eyed the Reverend and worked at making my face look impassive and casual. I said, “Say, Rev . . . have you been here before?”
“What do you mean? This restaurant?”
“Yeah. Have you eaten here before?
He cocked his head at me. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondered.”
He shoved three fries into his mouth and said, “No, can’t say as I have. Nice place though, ain’t it?”
I nodded, cleared my throat. “Has . . . has the town changed much since the last time you were here?”
He looked at me sharply. His eyes bored right into my skull.
“Well,” he said, “I reckon it has. I mean, it’s been years, you know. Decades. I hardly recognize the ol’ place.” The thought seemed to sober him, and he continued eating in silence.
I said, “Is it bigger than it was?”
“Yeah.” He looked away from me. “Bigger. You see that shopping center we passed? Wasn’t there last time I was around. That was a big ol’ field there.”
“I just wondered, you know. Seeing as how we got lost and everything.”
He jumped in with, “Meaning?”
“Meaning nothing. It’s just odd how you grew up here and we got lost. Place must’ve really changed a lot.”
“Yeah,” he said. He put down his burger, took a sip of tea. “Like I say . . .”
We were silent for a moment, eating with less zest now, avoiding looking directly at one another. I knew that he was lying. He wasn’t from Holly Springs.
“Charlie. You got something on your mind, I sure would appreciate it if you’d spit it out. You’re hem-hawing around something and I don’t think it’s right.”
He grinned when he said that, and I felt ridiculous, like I was making a big deal out of nothing. I found myself grinning back at him, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, Rev. It’s been a long day, y’know. I’m not thinking straight.”
“No, really, Charlie. If you’re thinking something odd, I’d really like to know. I mean, maybe I can set your mind to ease.”
“Well . . . I was just kinda thinking about the other day, when we met in the laundromat.”
“What about it?”
“When you left, you didn’t have any clothes with you. It sort of made me wonder what you were doing there in the first place.”
He stopped chewing. He set his burger down on the plate, looked at me intently. “Why, I was looking for you, Charlie. I knew you were there, and I came to find you.”
He stared at me for a minute, letting the silence between us build. Then, so suddenly he made me jump, he busted out laughing and half-chewed food spurted out of his mouth. He started choking, reached for his tea, washed the food down until his choking subsided.
I sat there dumb for a few seconds, then smiled and shook my head. I laughed shortly, said, “You’re a real sonofabitch, you know that?”
Wiping tears from his eyes, he
We’re lost, I thought. He has no idea where we are. But then, no we can’t be lost. This is Reverend Childe’s old stomping ground, right? He knows it like the back of his hand.
And then, no. We’re lost.
I decided to let that one brew in my head for a little while and said nothing.
We made Holly Springs fifteen minutes later and found a little diner across the road from a ramshackle garage. Reverend Childe ordered a cheeseburger and fries and heavily sweetened iced tea. My mouth still hurt, so I ate a soft open turkey sandwich, chewing on the right side. The place was clean, only slightly busy, and the jukebox in the corner played country music from the sixties.
The Reverend ate his cheeseburger with quiet intensity, enjoying it, only looking up once in a while to grin at me with his mouth full. I gummed my sandwich, humming “It’s Only Make Believe” with Conway Twitty on the jukebox.
Sipping my Coke, I eyed the Reverend and worked at making my face look impassive and casual. I said, “Say, Rev . . . have you been here before?”
“What do you mean? This restaurant?”
“Yeah. Have you eaten here before?
He cocked his head at me. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondered.”
He shoved three fries into his mouth and said, “No, can’t say as I have. Nice place though, ain’t it?”
I nodded, cleared my throat. “Has . . . has the town changed much since the last time you were here?”
He looked at me sharply. His eyes bored right into my skull.
“Well,” he said, “I reckon it has. I mean, it’s been years, you know. Decades. I hardly recognize the ol’ place.” The thought seemed to sober him, and he continued eating in silence.
I said, “Is it bigger than it was?”
“Yeah.” He looked away from me. “Bigger. You see that shopping center we passed? Wasn’t there last time I was around. That was a big ol’ field there.”
“I just wondered, you know. Seeing as how we got lost and everything.”
He jumped in with, “Meaning?”
“Meaning nothing. It’s just odd how you grew up here and we got lost. Place must’ve really changed a lot.”
“Yeah,” he said. He put down his burger, took a sip of tea. “Like I say . . .”
We were silent for a moment, eating with less zest now, avoiding looking directly at one another. I knew that he was lying. He wasn’t from Holly Springs.
“Charlie. You got something on your mind, I sure would appreciate it if you’d spit it out. You’re hem-hawing around something and I don’t think it’s right.”
He grinned when he said that, and I felt ridiculous, like I was making a big deal out of nothing. I found myself grinning back at him, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, Rev. It’s been a long day, y’know. I’m not thinking straight.”
“No, really, Charlie. If you’re thinking something odd, I’d really like to know. I mean, maybe I can set your mind to ease.”
“Well . . . I was just kinda thinking about the other day, when we met in the laundromat.”
“What about it?”
“When you left, you didn’t have any clothes with you. It sort of made me wonder what you were doing there in the first place.”
He stopped chewing. He set his burger down on the plate, looked at me intently. “Why, I was looking for you, Charlie. I knew you were there, and I came to find you.”
He stared at me for a minute, letting the silence between us build. Then, so suddenly he made me jump, he busted out laughing and half-chewed food spurted out of his mouth. He started choking, reached for his tea, washed the food down until his choking subsided.
I sat there dumb for a few seconds, then smiled and shook my head. I laughed shortly, said, “You’re a real sonofabitch, you know that?”
Wiping tears from his eyes, he
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