Water Tower

Hello Dear Readers!

I haven't been able to buy any groceries yet because my fridge doesn’t work.  So I decided to go down the coffee shop, the Steaming Mug to start my morning off with some Earl Grey tea and breakfast.  This works out great since Comcast had rescheduled my wifi installation for the third time, now I can use the cafe’s free wifi.

The coffee shop has a brick exterior with a mural on it.  The front of the building had two large plate glass windows, both crowded with plants.  The interior is filled with old mismatched couches and chairs.  Most of the customers are locals.  The college in neighboring Telford is too far away for most students, except for the few with apartments in Kevin's Crossing because it's cheaper.

At the counter was a barista named Gemma who had taken my order several times before.  She has a warm but gruff demeanor, like a scratchy wool sweater.  She has a nose ring and heartagram patched pinned to her apron.  This is how it went when I approached the counter to place my order:

Me:  Can I get an Earl Grey tea and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?

Gemma: No.

Me: …

Gemma: No PB&J sandwiches today.

Me: Are you out?

Gemma: No.

    I stare at her in confusion.

Gemma: It’s March twenty-fourth.

Me: So…?

Gemma sighs.

Gemma: It’s Carly Hawkins Day.

Me: Which is?

Gemma sighs again.

Gemma: Do you not know what Carly Hawkins Day is?

I thought I had established that by that point.  But decided to repeat my new favorite expression.

Me: I’m new in town.

Gemma looked over her shoulder at a clock on the wall with a sign that read ‘A Good Time for Coffee’.  It was 10:43 am.  She then shouted over her shoulder to the back room.

Gemma: Janet, it’s before eleven, is it too early to do that story of Carly Hawkins?

From the back, Janet responded.

Janet: Fuck it!

I have been to the coffee shop several times since moving to town at the beginning of the week. While I have not yet seen Janet, I have heard several similar pronouncements from her.

Gemma removed her apron and sat on the counter, announced in a loud voice, “Alright folks, we’re going to do this thing.  Service will resume in five minutes.”  There was grumbling from some of the patrons, some picked up their things and left, others gathered around.

“You’ve seen the big ass water tower on the hill, right?”  She pointed northeast, through the wall, her nail polish was chipped.  I nodded.  It was one of the first things I had seen on my bus ride into town.

“Well teenagers used to go on dates up there,” she made air quotes with her fingers when she said ‘dates’.  The room snickered.  “You can see the whole town from there.  There used to be a gate across the road that went up to the water tower, but kids kept cutting the locks so they stopped locking it.”

“Now I think the kids go out to some rocks in the woods.  But on this particular March Twenty Fourth Carly Hawkins and Matthew Myers took the drive up the hill and parked in front of the tower.  Mathew had prepared a romantic dinner of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and MD 20/20 to celebrate their two month anniversary.  Matthew's older brother Charlie had purchased the booze for him.”

“Now Carly was allergic to peanut butter, and she knew it.  But this was back before everyone was allergic to everything.  And she could tell that Matthew had worked very hard to put together this sumptuous feast.  So she ate it and hoped for best.”

“Carly’s father worked at the factory, this was before it closed down.  And her family wasn’t able to afford EpiPens.  So when her throat closed up, all Matthew could do was drive her to the hospital over in Telford as fast as he could.  But the road was badly in need of repair, full of holes and ruts.  Matthew had driven careful on the trip up, but now he was driving like a bat out of hell and wedged his tire in a rut and couldn’t get it out.  Since this was in the days before cell phones he was forced to run to the nearest house, nearly two miles, to call for help.”

“By the time an ambulance arrived Carly was dead.  So as a sign of respect, every March Twenty Fourth no one eats or serves peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  “Now,” she said putting her apron back on, “I can get you a bagel with cream cheese.”

Me: Okay

Gemma: Original or veggie cream cheese?

Me: You choose.

    I barely managed to get the words out.  I realized I had been holding my breath the whole time.

Gemma: Original, it is.

She took my money and I shuffled down to the end of the counter to wait for my order.  Gemma began to take the next order and the tense, somber mood that had fallen over coffee shop seemed to dissipate.  But then she turned back towards me and announced to the room.

Gemma: Oh yeah, almost forgot.  And on clear nights they say you can still his headlights up on the hill. Ooooooooooooowwwwww.

She raised her hands and wiggled her fingers menacingly.

Gemma: Haha

She cackled and went back to work.  I was handed my order by another barista.  I graciously accepted it and headed for the door.  I decided to eat it on the walk back to my apartment.

So there you have it, readers!  In town less than a week and already my first tale of the macabre.  More sad and tragic than strange and unusual.  But a good start nonetheless.

I’ll keep you updated!