Syrup dripped on Kay Marten's orthopedic shoe before she realized she had knocked the dispenser over.
A man in booth 13 waved her over with a hand holding a fork with a sausage link impaled on it.
Kay gave him the index “ just a second finger,” and looked out the window again.
She was positive the man who exited the bus was Blake Cossmeyer.
Her third grade crush had been tremendous, all encompassing. The little boy with the buck teeth, the funny mole over his right eyebrow, the strange, uneven hairline. The buck teeth were gone, everything else was the same.
Kay was good at Jeopardy and good at waiting tables for the same reason.
She remembered everything.
It could be debilitating.
It probably has been debilitating, Kay Edna Marten, you could have been a journalist and you're a server at The Melbourne.
She watched Blake Cossmeyer walk toward town.
He had family up there.
An uncle in a doublewide on Scotia Hill.
Kay poured more coffee for the guy in 13 then cleaned up the syrup.
Her grade school heart was fluttering, and her brain was fluttering too.
After the syrup was wiped up, she hustled through the kitchen and opened the back door.
The guy ambling down the street was sure as cement Blake Cossmeyer.
His brother was a psychopath. Moved out of state, Michigan, then Maryland.
Murdered 14 women.
Kay promised herself she'd write a letter to Blake, asking if he could arrange an interview with his brother, or maybe she’d write down questions he could ask his brother to answer. She'd write a book.
Blake was looking around, seemed kind of lost.
Kay got a shiver, beyond the cold. Mental illness runs in families.
What if Blake hated women like his brother did?
The Melbourne wasn't so bad.
She walked back to the dining area, and a guy in booth 8 waved her over with a
fork in his hand.
***
A great reminder sometimes it's better to be content with what we already have in hand.
Another winner of a story.
Great run, Jimmy!
Blake is back! What a great sequel! Encore! Encore!