Dreams of the Sleepless

Let the Spinner Land Where it May

Arriving at my little dirt lane, I scoured the first few feet, looking for footprints or car tracks but found none. Feeling more at ease, I walked on through the shadowy, thick cover of pine trees, emerging into the sunlit clearing. I double checked the lock and peered into the windows. Satisfied, I unlocked the door and walked into the welcome, cool air-conditioned room. I quickly showered and scrubbed to remove the paint on my arms and hands. Changing into clean, dry clothes, I felt human again.

Sitting at the table with a cold beer, I struggled with my thoughts. I held the neck of the bottle and swirled the contents, mesmerized by the spinning liquid. It reminded me of when I was a kid, playing board games with my friends. After flicking the spinner, I would hold my breath in anticipation, a mix of hope and trepidation. I willed the needle to a positive result and sometimes it worked. But, it was just as likely to turn out bad. In a way, I was sitting in this old cabin, playing the adult version. I watched the beer spin, wondering where I would land. Knowing that, despite all my "willing it," the outcome was out of my hands. In that moment, I decided to let the spinner land wherever it would. I looked at my fancy, plastic timepiece. It was 2:00 p.m. Walking out and locking the door behind me, I headed down the lane. I swept my path as I walked and threw the pine branch into the trees when I reached the highway.

I'm not sure why I showered because, by the time I reached Duke's, I was damp from the humidity again. I pushed open the door to the savory aromas of Sunday lunch - fried chicken, mashed potatoes, collards, cornbread, succotash, and peanut soup. It brought me back to childhood memories of Sundays at grandma's house. For a moment, I was a boy again, playing tag with my cousins in the afternoon sun as we squealed and chased each other. Or slinking off in the darkness during nighttime hide-and-seek in grandma's big backyard. Next, our legs weary, we would catch lightning bugs in the dark and watch them flash and glow in a Mason jar. Finally, we would set them free just before going inside. That was a happier time.

As I moved toward a booth, I saw Molly behind the counter. She looked weary, sad. She glanced up. I waved and she brightened. I kept telling myself that coming to Duke's was a mistake, but myself wouldn't listen. I could still feel the touch of her reassuring hand on mine. It comforted and haunted me. It made me feel something . . . something I wanted to feel all the time.

Molly hurried over to the booth. "What can I get you, Hun?" Her face was beaming.

"What would you recommend?"

"The fried chicken is excellent."

"Then that's what I'll have . . . with mashed potatoes and gravy . . . and some fried okra. Oh, and I'll have sweet tea to drink."

"That's all?"

I cocked my head. "Yeah, why?"

She smirked. "Just seems like you've lost your appetite after that large breakfast the other day."

We both laughed as she went to place my order. She was back in a moment with the sweet tea and a basket of hot cornbread and butter. She lowered her voice as she set the cornbread on the table and drew nearer. "I was afraid that you wouldn't come."

I smiled up reassuringly, "There was never a doubt." Once again, I lied, but telling her that I struggled with the decision would only hurt her and do no good.

A broad smile swept across her face. I remember thinking that making her smile did even more for me than it did for her.

I ate my lunch quietly with Molly stopping by several times to refill my tea. Each time she smiled. It made me a bit uncomfortable. I wasn't sure where this was going, but I could tell that she had definite ideas, hopes. Now, I was starting to regret coming to Duke's, but here I was. I would let the spinner find its mark.