Peggy, December, the previous year – the evening of day two
The office lights are off, and Jake fears his evening may be over before it even begins. The snow is swirling around like the fake stuff in one of those miniature glass balls, except this snow is cold and wet, and it sticks to his shirt, dampening it, and making him shiver. Crap! He’s starved and thirsty. He tries the door, but it’s locked tight. Double crap! He knocks hard on the metal surface, and is rewarded almost immediately when the small, dark-skinned, Middle Eastern-looking owner unlocks the door, and opens it a fraction.“Yes?” he says. “Can I help you?” The singsong tenor of his voice is friendly, but somewhat wary.
Who could blame him? “Yeah,” replies Jake, “I was hoping you’d have a soda machine. Or, better yet, maybe one of those machines that sells snacks; chips, pretzels, something like that?”
“We do,” replies the man.
“Can you tell me where it is? Me and my friend are really starved. We haven’t had anything to eat since this morning.”
The motel owner hesitates, looking the young man up and down cautiously, then opens the door just wide enough to permit Jake access. “Come in,” says the man. “It’s here, inside the office.”
Jake brushes the snow off his shoulders, stomps his feet good and hard to remove any of the white stuff, and enters the office. The little man quickly closes and locks the door behind him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But, you can never be too careful, you know.”
“Hey, no problem,” says Jake. “I don’t blame you. It’s pretty remote out here. You never know who’s going to come knocking on your door. I really appreciate you letting me in.”
“Yes,” replies the man. “Well, okay, here are the machines.” He motion toward several battered machines lining the left-hand wall of the office.
Not much choice, thinks Jake. “Hmmm, let’s see,” he says, scanning the selections on the soft drink dispenser. “Whatta ya think a lady would like?” he asks the proprietor.
“I really can’t say,” replies the little man. “Well, actually, my wife always likes the Dr. Pepper—diet, of course!”
“Dr. Pepper it is,” says Jake. “Oh, do you have change?”
“Right over there,” says the man, pointing to a change machine in the far corner. “You can use a dollar, five dollars, or a ten,” he advises.
“Right,” replies Jake. He pulls out a dog-eared billfold from his back pocket, and riffling through its contents, extracts a weathered five-dollar bill. The first time he tries it in the machine, it is expelled with a loud buzzing sound. He takes the bill, and carefully smoothes down the edges of the corners, then inserts it into the machine again. This time, there is a humming sound, followed by the cascading of quarters into a metal trough below. He scoops up the coins, counts out three, and quickly inserts them, one after another, into the soda machine.
Five minutes later, Jake exits the motel office carrying a can of diet Dr. Pepper, another of Mountain Dew (his favorite), and two cellophane packages of peanut butter and crackers. It’s not great, he thinks. But, it’s better than nothing.
Back at the room, he is welcomed with open arms by Peggy, who has apparently showered and changed into pajamas. A broad smile crosses her face when she sees the Mountain Dew.
“Oh, Jake. You got my favorite,” she says. Unaware of her preference, Jake hands her the can of diet Dr. Pepper.
“No, silly,” she says. “not that. I hate Dr. Pepper.
So, do I, thinks Jake.
“Gimme the Dew!” says Peggy.
“Oh, sure,” he says. “I should have known better. Here.” He reluctantly hands over the can of Mountain Dew. Triple crap!
Peggy takes the can of soda, pops the top, and chugs down half of its contents in one long swallow. “Did you get us any food?” she asks.
“Yeah,” replies Jake, somewhat embarrassed by what he’s brought back. “Got some cheese and crackers.” Then, almost by way of apology, he adds, “It’s all they had.”
“Hey, no sweat. Can I pay you for the soda and stuff?”
“No way,” he replies. “I already told you. My folks have plenty of money. It’s my treat.”
“I know,” says Peggy. “But…well…okay, but I really appreciate it – everything, I mean – especially the room. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along. I really mean it.”
Jake blushes. He hopes she really will show her appreciation – the right way – the only way that really makes sense. He pops the top on the Dr. Pepper, and takes a sip.
Ugh! He hates diet Dr. Pepper.