On the Road
It was a longer drive than Fern had anticipated. She had originally just planned to fly, but there was no way she could carry all of her plants onto a plane, and she just couldn’t trust a moving company to carry them for her. They’d probably all die en route; it’s not like they would bother to take care of them. There was always chartering her own flight but even then, it would cost a pretty penny to get them into the cabin and more still to fly all the way from the east coast into the Nevada desert.
No, it made the most sense to drive. She just hadn’t really fathomed the time.
It took two days to hit Illinois, the navigation on her phone telling her to stay further south but something else driving her a little further north into the heartland of the Midwestern state. A little past noon, she pulled into the parking lot of a diner called the Dime and Dine, parking her SUV just beneath the buzzing mid-century neon sign that announced the place. She had stopped a few times already, mostly to grab food or a catnap, and expected she would several times more before reaching her destination.
Now, she could use a good stretch of her legs and a bite to eat. To-go, of course. She still had a long way ahead of her and she didn’t want to stop anywhere for more than a few hours at a time.
The girl behind the counter was friendly enough and took her order quickly, leaving Fern to ease onto a vinyl-covered stool to wait for her burger and fries to be ready. She felt oddly out of place; the little diner was doing brisk business and everyone seemed to know each other. Maybe it was normal for a small town, all the friend smiles and pleasant greetings, but it put Fern on edge, a strange little tingle running up and down her spine while she waited. Without even realizing it, she began tapping one sneakered foot against the steel footbar on her stool.
She didn’t see him approaching, and jumped when he spoke.
“We don’t get many people passing through town,” the man called, and Fern jerked hard in surprise, nearly slipping off her stool. The man caught her by the arm, steadying her easily before letting go.
He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”
It took Fern a moment to regain her composure and smile in return. “Oh… it’s fine,” she said, shaking her head so her long blonde ponytail bounced. “I’ve just been driving awhile, I guess I’m still… caught up in my own head, a little.”
“Yeah I thought you looked a little lost,” he told her, nodding. There was a kindness to his demeanor that left Fern feeling strangely unsure. If this really was one of those little towns where everybody knew everybody else, none of their other diner patrons found it odd that this man would approach the only stranger, and that seemed somehow appropriate. He didn’t look like the typical Nowheresville USA welcoming committee, not with his sleeveless red t-shirt exposing a maze of tattoos running up and down his arms, disappearing beneath the fabric only to reemerge on his neck. He was wearing jeans and heavy work boots, but Fern had the idea that if she were to peek, the tattoos would be there too. She recognized some of them, arcane symbols and designs, and lettering in a familiar script.
“That’s the Futhark,” Fern said, reaching out to touch a rune on the hand he had braced against the counter. It was inked in black but beneath it she could feel the ridge of scar tissue; it had been carved into his skin and scarred over before he had tattooed it.
The man chuckled softly. “Good eye,” he agreed, not tearing his hand away in spite of the breach of politeness. Fern remembered herself and pulled her fingertips away from the rune, blushing just gently.
“Sorry about that,” she muttered, and forced a smile. “I’ve been driving for awhile, I guess I’m…”
“Still caught up in your own head, yeah, you said,” the man agreed, nodding. “You think maybe it’s time for a break from all that drivin’? No motels in town, but we got a couple B&Bs starting up, I’m sure they’d give you a room on the cheap.”
Fern shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stop somewhere tonight, I just want to get a few more miles in,” she lied.
He leaned against the counter casually, as though he did it every day. “Where are you headed?”
“West,” she told him. “Nevada.”
“You really do have a long way to go,” he said, frowning slightly. She could see the concern in his dark eyes, the mental calculations he was making of how far she needed to go, how far she would be before nightfall. He was going to try and convince her to stay.
She pasted on a smile. “Really, I’m fine. I haven’t talked to anyone but to yell at my radio since I started out, that’s all. Just came in to grab a bite and then I’ll get back on the road.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “If you think that’s best,” he said, making it clear that he didn’t agree. He sighed. “Sorry. I guess I got a habit of tryin’ to take care of everybody I meet. Didn’t mean to hassle you.”
“Not a hassle,” Fern said quickly, making sure to use the friendly, dulcimer tone of voice that her adoptive parents had loved her to trot out. “I like your ink, though. I recognize some of them. There’s Týr… and Mannaz… and… what’s that blank square?” In the midst of the many runes on his collarbone was a blank square inked in a place of prestige, as though it were meant to hold something special that hadn’t yet been decided. The man reached up and touched the spot absently, a funny smile on his face that Fern couldn’t quite discern. It seemed happy but sad at the same time. God, but reading feelings could be a bitch.
“The rune for Destiny is a blank,” he explained, voice quiet and carrying the same mix of emotions she had spied in his smile. He looked at her oddly then, this time with a more curious expression. “You know, you’re the first one to notice that.”
“Call me perceptive, I guess,” Fern said with a shrug. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her; it was too knowing.
“Y’know, might be good for you to stick around here,” the man offered again, glancing out through the diner’s plate glass window as though he were searching for something -- or someone -- in particular. “I have a friend, she’s into the same kinda things you seem to be… the runes? That kinda stuff. I bet she’d like to meet you.”
Strangely, even knowing what she had to do, Fern felt a sudden impulse to take him up on the offer. She really considered it, as much of a shock as the idea really was. There was a moment where she could see starting anew in this little town in the middle of nowhere, befriending the man with the dark eyes, taking her lunch in the diner everyday. And just as quickly, it was gone.
These people, they’d never truly care for her. Sure, they’d act nice, some sort of weird Midwestern politeness culture that made it impossible for them to tell her what they really thought, but they wouldn’t really care.
Only the Lady cared. She was the only one who had ever made Fern feel loved; the Lady was all that mattered.
“Sorry, no time,” Fern said, shaking her head again. She smiled. “Just a burger for the road.”
The man nodded slowly; he looked like he had more to say but the counter girl showed up then with a bag too large to be Fern’s order.
“Here’s your order, Aidan,” the girl called in a chipper tone. “Em said to tell you it’s already paid for so don’t argue.”
He laughed and took the bag, shaking his head. “Figures,” he told the girl, and took the bag. He turned to go and cast another glance at Fern. “If you change your mind, it’s the little shop down the street. That’s where my friend and me will be. Big Egyptian eye in the window, can’t miss it.”
“Thanks,” Fern said, smiling again. She was smiling so much it was making her cheeks ache. “It was nice meeting you.”
She watched him go, letting the false smile slip from her features, eyes following as he walked past the diner windows, carrying what was presumably lunch for him and his friend.
What a strange guy, she thought. But it was no matter. Better to think of what was ahead of her; there were still so many miles to go.