Not Spelled Like the Color

A couple weeks ago, as I was driving to church on Wednesday evening, I was struck with what I considered to be a quite brilliant idea for a story (Actually, most of my story ideas occur when I'm driving to or from somewhere). At the time I didn't want to write it out because I'm already in the middle of so many and I should really focus my attention on things that I've already started before I start more. But inspiriation rules over most other things, and I for sure didn't want to lose the idea. So yesterday I pulled out my miniature notebook and began writing things down; I'd intended to keep it short, just the basic idea and enough to remind me of the feel that I was looking for when I first thought of it, but I just couldn't help but get sucked in to writing it out and, lo and behold, before I knew what had happened it was suddenly 6:00, post meridian, and I'd written four and a half pages worth of story when I'd only intended to roughly sketch a plot.
So here it is, the first few pages of an accidental story that I have no inclination of setting aside for the summer while I finish other things up because it is just too much fun to miss. "Not Spelled Like the Color".

Aubern switched on her left turn signal as she swung into the shell station just past Melbourn County’s one and only Dairy Queen. There were four small towns in the country county and each one that she’d driven through in the past three quarters of an hour had looked more outdated than the one before. Which was saying quite a lot considering how ancient the first one – Elhurts – looked. So far she’d gone through two and this one was the third, the fourth was a little farther to the east than the reast and therefore not within her designated “path of least resistance”.

            The gigantic shell that announced the gas station was barely recognizable beneath several layers of grit and paintball remnants; though somehow, as dirty as it was, it managed to reflect all too well the gleam of the summer sun – Indian summer. September had come and gone and, half way through October, the air was still suffocating those who were unfortunate enough to lack a working A/C unit in their cars. Even the grubby pole that held up the old shell sign appeared to wilt in the stubborn heat… like the stem of a dandelion that was picked yesterday droops in your hand when you pick it up off its forgotten place on one of those black park swings.

            After putting her car in park beside one of the neglected gas pumps and switching off the ignition, Aubern noticed something odd (aside from the three inch coating of grime that was caked over everything), there were no tire marks on the dirt covered pavement – not one set except for hers and the tread of a bicycle. She groaned as she wiped beads of perspiration from her hairline. She’d been driving on nearly empty for the last twenty-five miles and there was no way she was going to get lucky for the thirty mile leg between here and the next point of civilization. There was nothing to it, she would simply have to backtrack the twelve miles to Riddleton, where she would have her choice of two gas stations, one of which must be in proper working order.

            She turned the key in the ignition, bracing for a sound similar to that of a thousand screeching monkeys to bombard her ear canals – but it didn’t come.

            “Shucks.” Aubern breathed to the empty station. She hadn’t thought that she might already be too low on gas to continue “Don’t you dare stop working on me mr. 1997 for whatever-kind-of-car-you-are.” She waggled her index finger at the peeling dashboard. A tap on her side window alerted her that she was no longer alone. She rolled the dusty window down to be greeted by a woman who looked to be somewhere in her mid thirties or early forties.

            “Honey,” the woman said, her voice thick with southern back-roads vibe. “you ain’t gonna get no service here, sweetheart.”

            Aubern cringed at the double endearment “Thanks. I was just realizing how empty the place is.”

            “Yeah, darlin’, there ain’t been no one here for somethin’ ‘round a year now.” The woman’s hair, which was the same colour as the dirt that covered everything in a fifty foot radius, shifted limply as she made a move to lean on the pump behind her. “You been in these parts afore?”

            “Nope.” Aubern waited a moment before continuing “There isn’t another gas station in town, is there?” she asked. “Because I’m on empty at this point.”

            The woman let out a triplet of laughter “Not s’far ‘s I know!” She said it as though it was the funniest joke ever heard “But it I was you, Id g’over t’ ‘Merigo’s place there.” She gestured north with a sunburned hand down an unkempt road “He ‘n’ ‘Lumbus ‘ll bring ya over some ga-so-line. ‘Nuff t’ get you the Emberlin gas station.”

            Emberlin? The fourth no-where town in no-where county? Great. Just great. Aubern wanted to say it aloud, but instead she said “Marigold? Isn’t that a flower? Or a girl’s name?”

            Another set of triplets. “Uh-mare-Ee-go, sugarplum. After that ‘spoochee fella – the one that America ‘s named after.”

            Amerigo Vespucci? ‘Merigo and ‘Lumbus. Columbus? Aubern couldn’t keep a smile from lifting the right corner of her poppy-red lipstick mouth. “Oh. How much does he charge?”

            “Oh, honey, pretty near nothin’ if you got a smart manner ‘n’ you don’t cause too much trouble.”

            “Uhm… like, how much?”

            “Polly a cup of iced tea from Mandy’s.” That dust brown hair swished over the tops of the woman’s spaghetti strapped shoulders as she adjusted her meager weight to settle more on one sandaled foot than the other. “Any way, darlin’, I got ta be goin’. Fred ‘s likely goin’ bo-listic that I ain’t home yet.”

            “Your husband?”

            The woman lifted a ringless left hand “My dog, punkin.” She grinned, her clean white teeth out-dazzling the October sunshine. “Bai now.” She turned on her heel and walked off, her long blue skirt skipping against her ankles as she went.

            “Bye!” Aubern called after her “Thanks for your help!” she watched as the woman’s back disappeared around the corner of the DQ building and then opened her door. Not bothering to lock or roll up the window, she started out in the direction that the woman had indicated. Each step on the blisteringly hot pavement seamed to sear through her flip-flops and melt the soles of her feet. Even the thick coating of orange polish that she’d put on her toenails the day before was starting to feel goopy again.

            A few blocks down she reached a mechanic shop with the inscription “Auto Body Store” on the door.

            “Oh, very original there” she murmured, not bothering to add in sarcasm “Well, I guess this is probably where I want to be.” She pushed on the door and it swung in, smooth as olive oil, letting out a gasp of cool air from inside. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior and, before she could see quite clearly, was greeted by a voice that she could only assume belonged to one of the brothers.

            “Hey, there! How c’n I help you?”

            Now able to distinguish the shades of relative dark she saw the speaker. On the shorter side of tall, close cropped hair of an undefineable color, brown eyes. Dimples. Elton had had dimples. Long nose, cheerful smile, a shades of brown plaid shirt worn unbuttoned and with the sleeved rolled up to just above the elbow, underneath that a plain white shirt. Aubern assumed that he was the type to wear jeans and not shorts, but it was hard to tell where he was standing behind the counter across the room.

            “someone said that you might be able to help me put enough gas in my car to get to a gas station?” she said it as a question.

            “Shore thang. Whe ’re you parked?” He asked, then, without waiting for an answer, “Hong on just a sec’ while I get ‘Merigo.”

            Ah. So this was… Columbus? “Thanks. Sure. I’m parked at the shell… the closed one.” She waited while he came out from behind the counter and went into a back room. Black carhartts, not jeans. As he came out again, followed by his brother, another man burst from the sweltering sidewalk.

            “Hey, Lumber Jack!” He oozed excitedly “You’ll never – woops, sssarry, tooootsie roll.” The more than slightly intoxicated man apologized after slamming into Aubern as he ran headlong towards the brothers – what was in with these small towners and their pet names for complete strangers? “’Lumbus, some kid ‘s gone ‘n’ broke inter a car ‘at’s parked at the old shell and –“

            “My car!?” Aubern froze where she stood.

            “Darnnn, was it yoursss, sssweetie pie?” the drunk asked confusedly “Aaany way, sooome kid done broked the winnnd shield, even though the window ‘sss down ‘n’ – “ the man broke off in a round of hiccups and then passed out on the floor.

            “Disgusting” Aubern muttered under her breath.

            “I’ll head over there ‘n’ see what th’ fuss is all ‘bout.” Amerigo said. “Don’t worry, Burt here is prone to ‘zaggeration.” He paused “I’m Amerigo Hantce, by the way, and that’s my brother, Columbus” so it was Columbus “Hantse, and that…” he looked down at the drunken man “well, that’s Burt, or… he used to be Burt, ‘till ‘e started drinkin’.”

            Aubern was suddenly at the end of her string. “That’s great, but my car just got broken into and I really have to go.” She ran to the door and pushed it.

            “Ya have t’ pull it t’ op’n it.” Amerigo’s grin was almost too much to bear.

Aubern’s face flushed crimson as she pulled the handle as quickly as she could to get away from that grin. “Thanks.” She lied just before she made a break for it out into the boiling sun, even worse after she had acclimated to the atmosphere of the Auto Body Shop. She jogged the three blocks to the empty shell and when she reached it a small crowd had already gathered around her car, which, as if it hadn’t been falling apart before, now looked like an advertisement for Geico. “Hey! Get away from my car! Go away! You got nothing better to do?” someone who had been poking their head through the open window pulled back and mumbled something akin to “Saarry, grouchy head”.

            Aubern threw the little girl a sharp look. “Watch it, kiddo.” The woman who had directed Aubern to the Hantce brothers grabbed a shoulder strap of the girl’s denim jumper and told her to shut her mouth if she wanted any supper that night.