I wonder if God half likes half ugly? Because I think that’s what Grandpa was.
“Oh, that’s just BethAnne. You can’t let her get to you. So how’d the hot dogs go over yesterday? Did you have enough? Your dad was worried when he ordered them.”
“We ran out about three. So it was just enough.”
“Good. I’ll make a note of it for next year.”
As she bagged up my things, I had her keep separate the items I was dropping off at Vaughn’s. Then I got lost thinking about how handsome he was. BethAnne was a busybody, but she was right. He was fine.
That train of thought skidded to a halt as Rhonda said, “Earth to Mutt. Fifty-nine, seventy-two.” I blinked a few times to regain my focus and handed her my debit card.
“You feel okay, honey?” Rhonda asked.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just thinking. I’m fine. Thanks, Rhonda.”
“You’re welcome. See you later,” she said. Seeing I could manage all of the bags myself, she stepped away from the register and started restocking the movie wall.
There weren’t too many bags, so I hauled everything without a cart to the truck, then ran back in for the milk and case of water.
Lewis, the owner of the boat dealership, honked and waved at me as he drove by.
That’s what Wynne was like.
Everyone knew everyone.
For the most part—except for election years, which were brutal in a small town—everyone was friendly and welcoming. People waved, or at the very least, lifted their index finger off the wheel, as they drove by.
If someone needed help, the town had a benefit.
If someone was sick, we’d rally around them until they were feeling better.
It was a great place to grow up, but at times it was smothering. You literally couldn’t take a shit without someone knowing it and three others smelling it.
Forget Facebook or Twitter, social networking in Wynne was actually social. The men—or the local Liar’s Club, as I liked to call them—met every morning at Diana’s to talk over town happenings. Who hadn’t mowed their yard. Who bought a new truck. High school sports, crops and the weather.
The women had the grocery store and the hair salon where they’d solve all the world’s problems, and still have time to set up all of the singles within a twenty-mile radius.
However, small town living was a double-edged sword, and oftentimes you had to take the good with the bad, keep your chin down, and take care of business. I’d like to think I did all of those things.
My truck roared to life, and I silently made a note to have Dad look at my exhaust. It was normally on the loud side, but it was getting obnoxious. I could barely hear the radio, so I turned it up.
I didn’t know if I was a country music fan or if I simply didn’t know much of anything else, but that’s what I listened to. I mean, I didn’t have a choice, there was only one station in town and that’s all Sunny played.
If I had to exclude Dean and my dad, Sunny was probably my best friend. Her mom was my babysitter when we were little and we always got along. Of course, we were as different as night and day, but that’s what made her fun.
She’s bubbly and charming. I’m … not really.
Sunny Wilbanks had the blondest of blond hair to match her name, which was thanks to the salon downtown. She always looked put together. Laughter and good times followed her around, just like her dog Andy Two did. If you’re curious, Andy One was hit by the school bus a few years ago. Andy Two wasn’t even the same breed as Andy One, but Sunny liked the name. She was a huge Shawshank fan.
She didn’t work on Sundays, but she would pre-record segments to play when she was out.
“All right, Wynne-ers, it’s Sunday afternoon and the sun is shining. How about a feel good song from a few summers back? It certainly brings back a few memories for me. Now put on your boots and go cause a little trouble. It’s good for you.” The recording broadcasted over my radio as I drove through town.
The music filled the truck, and before I knew it, I was approaching the old Robinson house, or Vaughn Renfro’s house, I supposed.
I came to a stop on the shoulder of the road in front of the old home and killed my beast. Before I got out I sat there for a moment and thought about how nice it would be if he actually renovated the whole house. Most of the neglect was cosmetic, but it would be a tough project to tackle alone.
His vehicle sat in the driveway and the garage door was open, showing boxes and furniture piled inside.
All of the windows were open in the house and I heard the same song I was listening to filter through them.
I was a little nervous.
Wynne didn’t get many new people. Sure, people moved away, and sometimes they came back, but it was an entirely new thing to have a total outsider with no ties to our small town.
It was exciting.