Merriton

“Kevin, I need your help.” Random’s friend pretended to ignore him. Random looked at Roscoe and glimpsed Curly watching everything from the kitchen pass through window. Roscoe whispered to Randy, “I think he wants you to call him Samson. He won’t answer to me unless I do.”

Random rolled his eyes. “SAMSON, I need your help. It’s about Sierra.” He thought that would be enough to get Samson to leave Mt. Zen Cafe for a few minutes, but his old friend sat at the table with Roscoe and even waved Curly and Angie over to them. “It’s alright. I’ve had all three of them keep an eye on her. They know how important it is that she not run.”

Angie wiped her hands on her apron. “She pretty much stopped talkin’ to me the minute she realized I was tattlin’ on her.” Curly came out of the kitchen and folded his muscular arms over his chest. Angie sat down and all four of them looked at Randy intently. What he had hoped for was a quiet conversation with Kevin… no, Samson. Instead, he was facing a town meeting.

He cautiously started, “She’s running…” They all nodded and he felt a little better continuing. “I’ve tried watching her like a hawk, but I can tell that she’s still running…” He hesitated. He had felt perfectly comfortable saying all this to his old friend. Kevin and Sierra had gone to high school together. Long before Kevin became Samson, he helped Sierra through her first bout of this obsession. When cross-country had become far more than an extra-curricular activity, his old buddy had been there for her. Randy felt at a loss and could barely keep his voice steady as he whispered, “I can see her ribs. I haven’t been able to catch her running, but I know she is.”

The five of them were huddled around the small table. Even Curly had unfolded his arms and was leaning on the table with one hand, straining to hear Randy’s words. The weight of them dampened the air and the usually noisy and bustling cafe took on an air of terrified and silent panic.

When the silence was broken, it was Angie who spoke, “We all thought it would be you…” Her words penetrated Randy’s fear. He looked around the cafe and wondered where all the tourists were. It was too empty for a February morning. Had the economy hit Merriton that hard? He tried to focus on Angie’s words, but he wondered about the cafe instead.

Curly stood up and folded his arms over his chest again as Angie continued, “That house drives people crazy, Randy. Since you just lost your company, we thought it was you who was gonna go nutty.” The room was quiet again. Randy looked at Samson’s half eaten plate of food. A fresh Egg Thing sat there, getting cold. Egg Thing was the only thing keeping Mt. Zen Cafe from closing its doors, he thought.

“I didn’t lose my company. I sold it.” He didn’t know why he felt like he had to justify himself. At his words, Curly dropped his arms in frustration and paced a little. It was Roscoe who finally spoke, “Who ever heard of goin’ crazy by runnin’?” Samson shook his head. “Back when she had this problem in high school, they didn’t know what to do with her. Her parents thought she was getting so skinny because they were vegetarians.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned into the table. “They even started cooking meat just for her.” He leaned back, nodding knowingly.

Randy shook his head. “She’s eating just fine, but her body can’t keep up with all her running. I just can’t figure out when she’s doing it.” Samson crinkled his brow and looked at Curly. The hulking man ran his massive hand over his bald head and then put his hands on his hips. His wife noticed his discomfort. Angie’s voice became strong and angry, “Buford James Robinson, if you don’t tell me right now what you know, there’s gonna be hell ta pay when we git home!”

Curly backed away from the table and wiped sweat from the top of his shiny head. Randy could smell a hint of men’s antiperspirant coming from the large, uncomfortable man. Randy spoke up, “Please, Curly. If you know anything, just tell me.”

Curly fidgeted some more, but he finally spoke, “Don’t know if it’s somethin’ or not.” He paced a little more and then looked at Randy. “I’m not supposed to talk about my project, so I don’t know what I can tell ya.” Both Samson and Randy stood up and urged Curly to just tell them what he knew. Curly paced a bit more and then plopped down into a chair. The chair wiggled under his weight and the large man tested its stability by wiggling. It took all of Randy’s composure not to chide the hulking chef while Curly stood up and moved the chair to the back of the room.

When Curly returned, he told his story. “For my project, I wanna open a gym here in Merriton.” Randy felt his hand rise to his forehead and wipe his face in one, long movement. “We ain’t got anything like a gym here and my basement’s gettin’ a little full.” The large man sat on another chair, wiggling to test its stability. When it proved worthy, he continued, “So for my research, I went up to a couple of the gyms Up North. One of my buddies from high school,” He turned toward Angie, “You remember Spike, don’tcha?” Angies head tilted as she nodded. It was obvious that even his wife didn’t quite follow him.

“Well, Spike, he runs the North Bruins Gym up there. They’re just a small gym, but they stay open all night. He was showin’ me the ropes and I told him that I thought we wouldn’ta need to be open 24 hours, but then he told me he gets a buncha people signin’ up because they think they’re gonna be able to come in real early or real late. It’s more about the people signin’ up than the people actually usin’ the gym at that time.” Curly leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped. He looked a little guilty.

“Then Spike pulled up his records and showed me that he only had a coupla people show up in the middle of the night. He has this cool computer thing that logs when everybody comes to the gym.” Curly sat up and used his hands to pantomime the next few sentences. “You see, when they walk in, they need to scan their cards.” His hands held an imaginary card in front of him. “Then the computer knows they came in to workout.” His finger ran down the imaginary computer screen at the list of names.

“I noticed the name Sierra McCain on the list of people who come to Spike’s gym late at night.” The cafe was quiet and Curly stood up again. He put his hands in his jeans pockets. “Can’t be that many Sierra McCains in the world…”

Randy didn’t believe it. There could be NO way that Sierra was a member of a gym. He took care of the finances just as much as she did. If there was a charge from a gym every month, he would have known it. “What was the name of that gym again?” Curly fidgeted. “It’s not Spike’s fault. You can’t go beatin’ down his door just ’cause of her crazy.”

Randy wiped his face again. The feel of his fingers and palm running down his cheeks helped him speak calmly, “I just wanted to know the name of the gym. I promise not to do anything except look for charges on our account.” Curly shrugged, “North Bruins Gym.” Randy wrote down the name.

“If she’s going in the middle of the night, then she’s waiting until I am completely unconscious before she leaves. What do I do? I’ve got to sleep sometime.” The group’s somber mood was interrupted by a group of laughing ski jackets entering the cafe. Curly and Angie silently stood up to take care of them. Roscoe and Samson put on their heavy brown ranger coats and headed to the mountain. Randy was left with the name of a gym scribbled on a napkin and a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach.