Fireflies

Chapter 4: The Little Princess

SAGE

May 30th

It was 3:00 in the afternoon and a scorching hot day, even inside the bar. Folks were slowly coming in. Not much to do but wipe down the counters behind the bar and help run the orders to the back. This was unusual for me. I usually worked the evening shifts, but someone called out an since I had nothing better to do I filled the shift on the condition that I could be let out to pick up the little monster from school at 4:30.

It never dawned on me that Sally's served as a restaurant during the day. I'd only been around to see it lit up and raucous. Yet, during the day, it seemed to be a quiet, local lunch spot for the workers in town and, for me, it gave Sally's more of a homey feel than ever.

"Sex on the Beach, just like you like it Marge." I slid a napkin in front of Margaret Peach, and placed her fruity drink on top of it.

"Thanks, Sugar," she spoke lightly with a clipped southern accent.

Marge, as she was called by the locals, was a forty-five year old single mother who owned a Pumpkin farm down the road from my father's place. She was tall and sturdy. Had brown hair with blonde highlights, no doubt from the spending everyday outdoors. I'd gone to school with son Conor, a shy boy.

"Hey, how's Conor doing?" I ask flicking a dish towel over my shoulder and leaning over the counter.

"He's alright. Joined the army and is off training somewhere." She looked a little sad.

"Well, you must be proud. Your son's one of the bravest men I know."

"I am. I am..." she murmurred listlessly, "is just that it's so frightening. Never knowing what's going to happen. Whether or not they're gonna send him to Iraq. I just worry."

"I understand. But you gotta know Conor's strong. You gotta have faith that he'll come back to you."

"I pray everyday."

I smiled at that. "That's good, Marge. Real good."

"What about you, Sage?"

"Me? Join the army? I'm afraid of spiders let alone machine guns and tanks. I'd probably shoot myself in the foot." I joked and she smiled.Truth was, I had no interest in fighting for this country. I considered myself a lover not a fighter.

Just then the door to Sally's swung open and the bells chimed. An older man walked in with a bandana tied around his forehead, a faded t-shirt and cut off jean shorts. He sat at the bar with a huff, the sides of his face wet with sweat.

"What can I do you for, Old Man." I asked. Old Richard came in here often as well. He was the town "entrepreneur", which was code for conman. The locals have since caught on to Richard's thrifty ways; it was the visitors who always took the hit. And Riverdale received a lot of touristy type visitors because of it's beautiful lands. There were a lot of rich people looking to rent or buy cottages amidst the thick foliage of the woods. It was a beautiful place to grow up.

"Heller, boy. Lemme get the house brew. Lots o' foam on the top." He gave me a toothy grin.

"Uh, you got it."

"Say ain't you Walker's boy?"

"Sure am." I slid a large glass mug under the tap and pulled a lever. Cold bronze liquid spilled forth.

"What's a boy like you doing working in a dive like Sally's?"

"Hey I heard that!" came Sally's voice from the back room. The woman had the ears of bat. "You answer wisely now, Sage."

I chuckled and slid the dish towel from my shoulder. Leaning on the bar, I looked at Old Richard and told him that I was looking to go into business one day - a lie, of course - and that I wanted to find a mentor of sorts. "I figured, why not work under the person who probably has the most successful establishment in town - Sally's. It's the oldest and longest running establishment yet."