I replied that I didn’t know what she was talking about. I told her that we were friends. That’s when she set me straight. Apparently, Felicia used to tell people what an airhead I was. She even had a nickname for me—Flakey Finley. My inability to discern her true feelings made it clear she was right.
In adulthood I’ve learned how to mask who I really am. Or at least I thought I had. Ever since Allie told me that she thinks I’m quirky, I’m starting to second-guess everything all over again. It’s not a feeling I welcome, either.
“Finley? You there?” Faith looks concerned, which makes me wonder how long I’ve been spacing out.
“Here. Good,” I tell her while forcing a smile. “Just let me know what you and Teddy decide and we’ll set something up.” I wave awkwardly before turning around and walking out of the bakery.
One of the reasons I became a photographer was that I like spending time with people. I like studying them and capturing their moments of joy. Doing so while wearing a camera around your neck makes this acceptable. Whereas, staring at people like you’re trying to commit their image to memory makes them nervous. Note to self: asking them to take their shirts off and greasing them up with baby oil also makes them uneasy, especially when they aren’t expecting it.
CHAPTER TEN
THOMAS
It’s March so it’s still cold and crisp outside. It rained again today, as it’s done every day since I arrived. As such, my walk from the hospital to the diner is a pretty soggy journey. Turning onto Main Street is a sensation unlike anything I ever experienced at home. New York streets are constantly busy. Pedestrians, taxi cabs, and cyclists are everywhere. There’s a continuous hum of activity accentuated by sirens and honking horns. The streets of Elk Lake feel nearly abandoned in comparison.
Opening the door to the diner is like walking back in time. Its raw vintage-ness appears authentic and not staged. The red vinyl booths are straight out of a movie from the nineteen-fifties. There’s even a juke box.
Looking around, I spot Kevin and Shelly in a back booth. I point at them before telling the hostess, “I’m meeting some friends.”
When I arrive at the table, Shelly stands up and gives me a hug. “Look who’s here!” I can’t imagine she’s really this excitedto see me, but one thing I’ve learned about the people of Elk Lake is that they’re very free in expressing their feelings. There’s no passive-aggressive pretense that seems to thrive in big cities.
I return Shelly’s hug before extending my hand to Kevin. “I’m glad we’re doing this.” After driving all the way from the airport with him, I had the feeling I would be seeing him all the time. That hasn’t been the case.
“I thought life would slow down once the kids were out of the house,” Kevin says, “But the truth is, Shel and I like to keep busy.” He winks. “You know what they say? A rolling stone gathers no moss.” He looks down at his Green Bay Packers jersey and adds, “And look at that, no moss!”
The waitress comes over and Kevin orders an extra-large curd platter along with a pitcher of beer. When she leaves, he tells me I can drink whatever I want after, but the only way to enjoy curds properly is with an ale.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I tell him truthfully. Even though I’ve never been a big beer drinker, my new neighbor seems like a man to be trusted with this experience.
Shelly takes her napkin off the table and puts it into her lap. “How’s the hospital?”
“It’s fine. Good, actually. Just a lot different from what I’m used to.”
Kevin’s gaze narrows like he’s looking for a hidden meaning. “Hard to get used to, huh?”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “The reason I left New York was because I was reaching the point of total burn out. Which is not something I expected to happen by thirty-six.”
“Our son is thirty-six!” Shelly says excitedly. “He owns a house painting company right here in Elk Lake.”
“Collin,” Kevin adds.
“How many kids do you have?” I ask them.
“Three.” Shelly beats her husband to the punch. “Collin is the oldest. Then there’s Chris. He’s thirty-two, and Camille is twenty-eight. They all live in the area.”
“That must be nice.” I feel a momentary pang of guilt that by moving here, I’ve broken up my own family unit.
“It’s the only way we’d want it,” Kevin says. “Collin has three kids, so we get to see the grands grow up.” Both of my neighbors are positively beaming.
“What about you?” Shelly wants to know. “Where does your family live?”
The waitress brings over a pitcher and pours the beer into three glasses. When she leaves, I tell my new friends, “My parents and sister are in New York City.”
“They must have been sad to see you go,” Kevin says.
I take a sip of my drink before answering, “I don’t think they were thrilled.” I hurry to change the subject away from my disappointing ways. “So, tell me, have you ever gone to Happy Snaps?”
Shelly claps her hands together loudly. “Finley takes our family photos for us. Do you know her? Isn’t she lovely?”
