Hey Stranger

To: C.Love

From: JJourdan

Subject: Hey

July 15, 2017 12:02 p.m.

Hey stranger. I haven’t heard from you in a while. Over a week to be exact. Have things picked up at the Ice cream mobile? Are you working overtime? I hope not because that’s against child labor laws.

I’m sure you’re out having fun and enjoying your summer. Camp has been busy. We do a lot in a day and we’re not allowed to have our cellphones out. This story is going to sound unbelievable, but it really happened. Believe me.

Last Sunday, we went for a hike and I met a snake. I know you don’t like snakes but I think they’re cool. This one was an Eastern Hognose and I wanted to get a picture of it. Remember that one kid that I told you about who really doesn’t want to be at camp? Well, he decided it would be a great idea to throw a rock at it. The snake lunged at me. I dropped my phone on its head by accident (or maybe not so much by accident). The kids ran and so did I. When I went back for my phone later, it was gone. I tried doing a locator sound but I think the snake had been talking on it and drained the battery. Either that or the crazy monsoon rains we had ruined it.

I was planning to buy a new phone this weekend but then thought about the fact that we aren’t allowed to use our phones much except during our “off times”. My cell carrier didn’t have the best reception out here anyway so I decided to wait. I use the payphone to check in with my parents. I’ve only talked to them a couple of times this week. I’ll probably call them after I send you this email and after I find another quarter.

Can you believe they have payphones? This one kid was like “What is this thing?” He’d honestly never seen a pay phone in his life. He’s nine so I guess that’s not really hard to believe. This weekend, we’ll get a new group of kids. Out with the old, in with the new. I decided to write to you on my lunch break. The food here is subpar. Salads, sandwiches and soup most days. Friday there’s pizza that tastes like wood. It reminds me of that song, “Rapper’s Delight”.  Have you heard it?

Enough about me. How are you doing? Have you made a decision about Las Vegas? If you decide to go, when would you leave? My last day at this camp is August 2nd. When is your last day with your Aunt? When does school start in Vegas?

I hope this email finds you well,

-Jonah

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There’s not one mention of love in Jonah’s letter. He didn’t even acknowledge that he ever said it. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he didn’t mean it. Maybe he doesn’t want me to keep making a big deal out of it like I’ve been doing. I’d decided to take some advice from Xavier and fall back to think about things. I’d purposely chosen not to reply to JJ as urgently as I had in the past.

Before I head to work, I walk to Mr. Sweeny’s market. It’s been open since 1914, a community staple.

A bell chimes when I walk inside. Little kids are counting out quarters and pennies for their candy. Mr. Sweeny’s eyes crinkle in the corner as he smiles at me.

“How’s my favorite employee?” he asks.

I know his grandson is probably his favorite employee, but he calls me that every time I see him.

“I’m great, Mr. Sweeny. My Aunt wanted a Kool-Aid pickle, so I thought I’d pick one up for her before I clock in next door.”

The Kool-Aid pickles sit at the front of the store along with all the candy. The outside of Mr. Sweeny’s market had been redone last year, but Mr. Sweeny wanted the inside to remain the same. It has an old-timey feel to it. Vegetables and fruits on one side, cold drinks in the back, pantry staples in the center, and penny candy and trinkets towards the front.

Speakers at the back of the store are playing a local radio station. I wait my turn in line behind the kids and bop my head along to the song while peering around the store. As I’m bopping, I begin to rap the lyrics. Then I realize what I’m hearing: Rapper’s Delight by the Sugarhill Gang.

I chuckle to myself when I think about how bad JJ said the food tasted. A light bulb comes on inside of me. “I should send him a care package,” I say aloud, but more to myself than anyone else. I glance at my watch to see if I have time.

“Mr. Sweeny, I’m going to look around for some things for my friend. He’s working in Savannah at a camp.”

“Okay, take your time,” Mr. Sweeny says.

There are so many things in this store, from homemade soaps to sodas I haven’t heard of before.

The bell above the door chimes and the kids leave with their candy. I’m sniffing a bar of soap with a loofah inside it when Mr. Sweeney joins me. “My wife makes those soaps. The little thing inside helps exfoliate your skin. Something you young kids are all about these days.”

I pick up a turquoise blue one with gold flecks swirled inside. It’s pretty and it smells good. JJ probably won’t care that it’s either of those things just so long as it cleans his body.

By the time I leave Sweeny’s store, I have way more than just Aunt Didi’s pickle. I purchased double packages of gummy bears and Red Vines because they’re JJ’s favorites, and I purchased the blue and gold swirled soap on a rope for him. I also bought a greeting card. I ended up buying quite a few things just to support all the small businesses whose products Mr. Sweeny carries. I think I spent my whole paycheck there.