Chapter 10
After work, I arrive at the Bean to meet Murray—time and place set by Whitley.
We haven’t spoken since Sunday, and I can’t help but wonder what’s left to say. For me, we’re at the end of the phone call, just listening to silence, him waiting for me to hang up.
The diner isn’t actually named the Bean, but that’s what most people in town call it.
It’s an oversized silver Airstream van that’s long since faded to brown.
Trains rumble past on the railroad tracks beside it, kicking up dirt with every trip.
Over time, the dust has settled onto the diner’s outer shell, giving it a sandy coating that makes it look like a baked bean.
The management never bothers to clean it, so everyone in Penango leaves their mark, etching thoughts and messages into the dust with their fingers as they leave lunch. Most recently I’ve seen STHS Seniors, dick, I’m dirty, and God Bless Penango.
As soon as I park, I spot the side of Murray’s blond head through the window, hovering above one of the red leather booths like a tall, yellow flower growing above its fence, but I know his pretty facade is fake and full of pests.
My earbuds die before the latest podcast finishes.
I started a new one called LGBTQ rather he exits like he can’t hear me. The bell above the door jingles as it swings open, an innocent sound that feels out of place, like wedding bells at a funeral.
“It appears he’s ignoring you, honey,” the waitress says with a frown.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” I say, sighing.
I press my palms to my temples, feeling the pressure of Penango’s last-ditch effort to hold on to me.