Drops

The anteroom is sparse with its low back couch and matching armchairs. There are no plants to water, the window blinds closed. Approaching a woman tapping away at a keyboard, O’Malley clears his throat. A startled look is quickly replaced with an unassuming smile. “Yes, may I help you?” “We have a three O’clock with Ms. Woods.” “Unfortunately, Ms. Woods went home sick, poor girl. I can reschedule if you like.” “We’ll get back to you on that. Thank you for your time.”

Pushing the steel door aside, Lewis and O’Malley step out into the sunlight. Directing their steps towards the visitor’s parking zone, shoulder to shoulder, neither say a word.

Once they’re situated, O’Malley guides the rig out of the parking zone to where he eases to a stop in front of the crossing arm. After a moment’s wait, the arm rights itself. Watching the whole thing through the windshield, once clear, O’Malley says, “Never had to go through that when I was a kid.” “Me neither.”

Out of the neighborhood and on one of the main arteries of the town, Lewis points up the street, “Hey, pull in there.”

“Pack of reds, please.” “Need matches?” “Always.” Once outside, Lewis removes the cellophane before making use of the garbage receptacle. Around the same time, O’Malley steps out of the rig. “You want a water?” Lewis nods yes to O’Malley who keeps walking. Left to himself, Lewis ambles his way to the corner of the storefront. Cigarette stubbed between his lips; Lewis strikes a match.  Feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin, Lewis thinks of her tracking the ray of light as it inches closer to her. Having another drag, Lewis looks up to see O’Malley walking towards him. “Here, it’s fortified with electrolytes and vitamins.” “Alright, cool. Thanks.” O’Malley takes a good look at Lewis before casting his sight on the slow, moving traffic. “If we’re going out that way, I need to change.” Stubbing out his smoke, Lewis says, “Me to.”

 

Out of their casual wear and into a short sleeve over jeans and boots, O’Malley and Lewis meet in the lobby of the Evergreen Inn. “Six miles east of here is the turn-off. There is also rumored to be a hermit who is getting all the blame if you’re into believing that sort of thing.” “A hermit?” “Got to blame somebody. We should go.”

Traffic sucks for a long minute and with the sun behind them, O’Malley flips up the visor. “Almost there.” Another mile has the two on route thirty.