Full Circle

Intrigue

Several weeks later, my ankle has improved so much that I venture outside for a quick run on the paved trail that winds through town.

As I'm cooling down, a runner in a crimson-hued hat quickly approaches from the opposite direction. He studies me quizzically, his brow furrowed, head tilted as if I've said something he doesn't quite understand. The hat's color sets off a pair of striking sea-glass green eyes. Shaggy blond hair pokes out wildly from underneath it. He grins sheepishly as he passes by. I'm gratified that my polarized sunglasses prevent him from seeing that my stare matches his. 

When I arrive at Mollie's, the only diner around for miles, I head directly to the restroom for a quick appraisal. When nothing is obviously amiss, I'm perplexed. Our paths have never crossed: him, I would remember. Perhaps it's a case of mistaken identity for him, but I'm intrigued. Without appearing too interested, I must probe Becky for details. She knows everything about everyone in this town.

Sara-Beth, a beloved waitress with the longest tenure at Mollie's, comes by to take my order. I ask for a large coffee with extra cream. It's so good to see her, and she says that she's missed me. She doesn't even say a word about Bill. I sense that she never felt we were right for each other. Her motherly kindness and tactful nature are comforting right about now. This is the perfect place for my first solo outing without him. 

I decide to stay a while longer, add a double cheeseburger, gravy fries, and a slice of homemade coconut cream pie to my coffee order. It's striking how famished I am, and I can't wait to inhale the simple comfort food that this place does so well. Sara-Beth is pleased and tells me that my order will be right up. I give her a broad smile of anticipation.

Mollie's is full of memories. It's the first restaurant Bill and I tried when we moved here. Regular fixtures, we stopped by at least once a week. Even though I'm conflicted and know deep down I don't belong here, I'll miss it - and Sara-Beth - when I finally summon the courage to move on. And maybe, I allow, I'll even come back from time to time for a visit. Maybe I'll someday remember this town not as the place to which Bill led me, but instead as the place where I regained my footing and became strong again. The place where I learned to look past the bad to see the good, where I learned to feel genuinely grateful for what I still do have, and where I let go of the things that I've lost or given up. This is what I aspire to feel when I someday reflect on my days spent here. 

When the time arrives, I'll know with certainty that it's finally time to move on. While I'm not there just yet, there are little glimmers of light starting to poke through the gray that's shaded my world, my outlook. I hope that in time, I'll look back fondly instead of with anger and regret. That's how I aspire to leave, anyway. Who knows if it'll actually turn out that way, but it's a good, solid start.

I devour every last morsel on my plate and order an extra slice of pie to go. It's just too unbelievably good to pass up. 

Unbeknownst to me, the man in the red beanie intently watches my every move from a secluded corner booth in the back. I don't see him, though, and won't learn about it for some time - until Sara-Beth finally spills the beans one day. I leave her a generous tip, give her my thanks and a heartfelt hug, and step out into the brutally cold wind and light snow that's now blanketing the sidewalk, eagerly anticipating the warmth of my down comforter and the next chapter of the new novel I've finally started reading after months of watching mind-numbing reality television shows and round-the-clock cable news programs. 

This is real progress, and I'll take it as it comes.