“You call this a restaurant?”
“Hey, this is your kind of joint. Probably filthy with greasy spoons and ’characters’.”
Sherri managed a smile. “Okay. But let’s keep the freak to ourselves.”
Neala turned onto the gravel parking area, and shut down the engine. They latched the roof into place, rolled up the windows, and locked the doors. Before starting across the gravel, Neala stretched. She was stiff from the long day in the car. Standing on tiptoe, shoulders straining back, she felt the luxury of her tensing muscles. The movement pulled her shirt taut across her chest. She liked its feel against her nipples, and thought how long it had been since she’d felt the eager touch of a man’s fingers or tongue on her breasts.
Maybe up in Yosemite, she’d get lucky.
Meet a rugged mountain man.
“I feel almost human again,” she said, meeting Sherri behind the car.
They crossed the gravel lot to the entrance of the diner. Sherri pulled open the screen door, and they entered.
Neala liked the warmth. The familiar aromas made her long for a cheeseburger and french fries. “Counter?” she asked, seeing a pair of empty stools at the end. The other half a dozen were occupied.
“Let’s take a table,” Sherri said, surprising her.
Sherri usually preferred the counter, where she struck up conversations with nearby strangers.
Not tonight, apparently.
They slid into a booth on the side, facing each other. Sherri’s eyes briefly met Nealas, then lowered.
“Buck up, pardner,” Neala said.
“Sure thing.”
“Don’t be this way. Please.”
“Oh, how should I be?”
“Be the gutsy champ we all know and admire.”
That didn’t even get a smile from Sherri.
Neala needed that smile. She’d never felt so frightened, so alone. This was a hell of a time for Sherri to go silent and glum.
“Would it help if I apologize?” Neala asked.
“It’s not your fault.”
“It was my idea to go backpacking.”
“The freak wasn’t your idea.”
“That’s for damn sure. But if we’d stayed home…”
“It’s all right. Forget it.”
The waitress came. “Sorry to keep you folks waiting,” she said. She set water glasses on the table, and handed out menus.
When she left, they studied the menus. Usually, they would talk over the offerings, maybe decide to split an order of fries or onion rings, discuss whether to “blow it” and have milk shakes. Tonight, they were silent.
The waitress returned. “Ready to order?”
Neala nodded. “I’ll have one of your Terkburger Specials and iced tea.” She watched the gaunt, unsmiling woman write it down.
This gal ought to be happy as a lark, with a ring like that on her pinky.
“A patty melt,” Sherri said. “Fries, and a Pepsi.”
The woman nodded and walked away.
Sherri watched her, frowning.
“Did you get a load of her ring?” Neala asked, hoping to break the somber mood.
“How could I miss it? The thing nearly blinded me.”
“Do you suppose it was glass?”
“Looked real enough to me. I’m no expert, of course. Besides, I left my jeweler’s loupe at home.”
Neala laughed, and saw the hint of a smile on Sherri’s face. “It looked like a wedding ring,” she said.
“Wrong finger. Wrong hand, too. She probably outgrew it.”
“Her? She was nothing but bones.”
“Maybe it’s a friendship ring,” Sherri suggested. “I could use a friend like that. Money coming out his wazoo. If I were that girl, I’d blow this burg in about two seconds. Grab hold of the guy, and light out for the big city.”
When the waitress brought their supper, they both watched her hand.
“What do you think?” Neala asked when she was gone.
“I think it’s real.”
Neala bit into her Terkburger: a thick patty on a seed bun. Juice spilled down her chin. She backhanded it off, and reached for a napkin. “Delicious” she said.
“Same here,” said Sherri. Strings of limp onion dangled from the sides of her sandwich.
“Onion breath.”
“You planning to kiss me?” Sherri asked.
“Not tonight.”
“Gee, and I had my heart set on it.”
“You’re sure going to stink up the tent. Maybe we’d better sleep under the stars.”
“What if it rains?” Sherri asked through a mouthful that muffled her words.
“Then we get wet.”
“I wouldn’t like that.”
“Better wet than onion gas in the tent.”
“Yeah?” Sherri pulled off the top slab of rye bread, pinched a matted glob of onions, and dropped it onto Neala’s plate. “You have some, too. Insurance.”
Laughing, Neala piled the onions onto her Terkburger and ate.
Soon, their plates were empty. Neala thought about returning to the car. She didn’t want to.
“How about dessert?” Sherri asked, as if she were in no hurry to leave, either.
“Good idea.”
This was no time to worry about calories. Neala never worried much about them, regardless; she had no trouble keeping her trim figure. Still, gloppy desserts made her feel guilty. Tonight, it would be worth the guilt to postpone returning to the car.
They both ordered hot fudge sundaes. They ate slowly, picking at the mounds of ice cream, the thick warm syrup, the whipped cream sprinkled with chopped nuts.
“This’ll add an inch to my hips,” Sherri said. She was several inches taller than Neala, with broad shoulders, prominent breasts, and big hips. She wasn’t fat, but an additional inch on her hips wouldn’t be that noticeable. Neala decided to keep the observation to herself.
“We’ll work it all off, this week,” she said.
“A great way to spend a vacation, working our asses off.”
“You’ll love it.”
“Sure I will. I’ll love it plenty if Robert Redford wanders over to our campfire and I bowl him over with my wit and charm, and he drags me off with him. My luck, though, he’d fall for you.”
“I’d share.”
When the sundaes were gone, they ordered coffee.
After this, Neala thought, we’ll have to go. Back to the car. Back to the narrow, dark road and the woods.
We can’t stay here all night.
She watched the waitress shut the main, wooden door. Through the window, she saw that dusk had fallen. The gravel of the parking lot was a gray blur. Across the road, the sign of the Sunshine Motor Inn blinked gloomy blue. It showed a vacancy.
Her eyes met Sherri’s.
“No way,” Sherri said.
