Lonesome

Eric Deters
Sep 5, 2018 · 8 min read

Every day but the Sabbath, Paul walks the three miles between his cabin by the lake to Joseph’s Generals and Specifics. Joseph’s is on the edge of town, which puts Paul’s cabin in what you might call the middle of nowhere. Paul never could afford to buy a car, and besides he’d never drive more than these three miles that he knew better than any person that ever lived. As he leaves, he lights his last remaining cigarette and lets it dangle from his lips, which, if not for that protrusion, would form a straight line.

He walks through the thicket that surrounds his cabin then along the path by Lake Lynette. The lake itself is fairly large. It might attract more folks than just Paul were it not so far away from them all. If it happened to be a particularly beautiful morning, if the sun happened to shine perfectly off the lake’s surface, if Paul happened to see a little critter stop and stare at him, you might see a smile tug at the ends of his mouth.

When he gets to Joseph’s Generals and Specifics, Paul buys a new pack of cigarettes and a Milky Way. Once, after Jean had left, when it was still just him and his daughter and Paul stopped having extra cash to carry around, Joseph jacked up the price of the cigarettes. Paul called him out.

“You can’t do this, Joe. Ain’t fair.”

“I can, though, Paul. Store’s got my name on the front. Go on out and read it.”

“I ain’t got nothin’, Joe. Nothin’. At least let me have this. Don’t make me walk home without ‘em.”

“Paul… Paul, I got a store to run. Folks realize I’m cuttin’ ya a deal on these cigs and they’ll wonder if they can even trust me. If ya can’t trust the clerk at yer local convenience store, who the hell can ya?”

Ever since that day, Paul brought a little more change than he should’ve.

Once he gets what he needs, he begins the walk back to Lake Lynette. Three miles later, he casts off his fishing boat from the shore of the lake and fishes for the rest of the day. When the sun goes down, he grounds his boat and walks back to the cabin. He stores the fish in his fridge and waits until someone comes to pick them up. After that, he reads some of whatever book he’s reading at the moment and then goes to bed.

The day prior was the Sabbath, so Paul stayed home. It had been snowing for two days straight, so Paul was very glad to stay indoors. He got a little further in the book he’d been reading for a month. Today, though, was Monday, so when Paul woke up and left the house, he walked to Joseph’s Generals and Specifics.

As he came round the bend, where he ordinarily saw the store, he instead saw rubble and ash and smoke, the snow on the ground soiled. Joseph stood beside Sheriff Peggy, answering some of her questions, before he caught sight of Paul and walked over to him. Peggy went off to speak with Deputy Martha.

“Joe? How’d this happen?”

“The Sheriff tells me it looks like a gas leak. She said she’s not ruling out arson just yet.”

“Damn… Anything survive?”

Joe looked back at the rubble and hesitated.

“All gone, Paul. All gone.”

“What are you gonna do now?”

“Wife wants to leave, says we can’t just do the same thing in the same place again. I’m thinkin’ she might be right.”

“But what am I gonna do for cigs, then?”

“Sorry this is such an inconvenience for you, Paul,” he jabbed. “Closest place is the SupreMart another five miles from here. You gotta get a car. You shouldn’t be walkin’ so much.”

“Can’t afford a car, you know that. Besides, five ain’t so bad. Won’t catch as many fish every day, but I can manage it.”

“I hope you’re right, friend. Don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

“Yeah.”

Paul sat on the ground across from the wreckage of Joseph’s Generals and Specifics, taking a moment to catch his breath and prepare for the next five miles. The last time anything around here had changed so much was when they’d paved a path from the store to Paul’s cabin, for anyone wanting to visit Paul or purchase his fish or pick up his daughter for school or repossess his belongings. Paul realized he couldn’t stop if he wanted to make it to town before noon, so he got up and kept walking.

Paul had gotten used to those three miles between his cabin and Joe’s, but it had been years since he had walked to town. He knew he should follow the road, but he also knew that he couldn’t afford to waste any time, so he tried to take shortcuts wherever he could. Often he would step off the road into the woods briefly, but soon enough recognized that he didn’t know enough about this particular spot, so he’d backtrack to the road.

Once, though, he committed to a shortcut and ended up lost in the woods. He walked the direction he thought he came from, but couldn’t see any roads or paths. The more lost he became, the more he realized exactly how hungry he was. He had only had a bite to eat before leaving, but it was just enough to get him to Joe’s. The Milky Way bars were what got him back. Paul was walking on an empty stomach, and he didn’t even have his cigarettes. Paul had only had withdrawals from cigarettes twice before; the first time was the day he met Joe, and the second time was the day Joe ripped him off. He was starting to feel that itch return for the third time.

At one point, Paul collapsed to the ground in the woods. Snow fell gently on him as he laid there. Soon he closed his eyes, trying to find the source of the sounds he heard. When he finally got back up, he kept his eyes closed and followed his ears back to the road. He still had not eaten nor smoked, though, so the thin line that his mouth ordinarily made was now clearly a frown. He followed the road until he finally saw street lights, parked cars, and strip malls.

When Paul reached the door to the SupreMart, he collapsed again, swinging open the door with him. A customer and a clerk helped pick him up and sat him down against the counter inside.

“Sir, do you need anything? Can I get you something?”

“A b-b-b-blanket. Please. A-a-and some tea.”

Paul pulled out the cash he hadn’t spent this morning and started to put it in the clerk’s hand.

“Oh, sir, keep it. You don’t need to pay for anything.”

Paul’s eyes grew heavy and his hand fell to the floor, spilling the money he held.

Paul awoke in the back of a car driving on a path through the woods. The sun was beginning to set. He sat on hard plastic, wrapped in a blanket. The driver tilted her head back towards him, looking through a metal barrier.

“How was your trip to town, Paul?”

“Peggy? Or is that Martha?”

“Right the first time, there, champ.”

“Hey, Sheriff. How you been?”

“Better than you, it seems. I asked how your trip to town was.”

“Oh… not good.”

“Did you walk again?”

“Yep.”

“You old coot. I told you to give me a call if you ever needed to go into town.”

“I didn’t want to bother nobody.”

“Paul, I drive around all day. It takes me longer to get from home to the station than from the station to here. I’m happy to go outta my way for you.”

“I said I didn’t wanna be a bother, Peggy. Besides, walkin’s good for the soul.”

“You can’t be doin’ that to yourself at this age. How old are you now, exactly?”

“64. Where you takin’ me, Peggy?”

“You’re goin’ home, Paul.”

“What? I ain’t got my cigs! I ain’t eaten, Peggy!”

“Relax. I’m cookin’.”

Peggy stepped out of her vehicle and walked around to help Paul out. They walked to the front door of Paul’s cabin and he opened it. It was as cold inside as it was outside. Paul walked to the space heater and turned it on, then sat down on his only couch and picked up his book. Peggy looked around at his barren cabin.

“Have you even got anything I can cook?”

“I got some groceries from Joe’s a few days ago. Should be plenty left.”

“Poor Joe. Shame what happened to him. He didn’t deserve that.”

Peggy walked to the fridge and pulled out some milk and eggs. Paul fiddled and fidgeted and coughed.

“You doin’ all right there, Paul?”

“Not really. Bad day.”

“I hear ya.”

Peggy looked in every cabinet for a pan but couldn’t find one. After a few seconds, Paul stood straight up.

“Why’d you take my baby girl away?”

“Are you kiddin’ me? Did Martha not send you that notice?”

“I’m not jokin’, Peggy.”

“Have you seen how you live, Paul? This is an unsafe, insecure environment. It’s unfit for a child. We were right to take her.”

“Y’all made it insecure! Comin’ in and takin’ alla my shit. I coulda provided for her myself if it weren’t for you.”

“You know that ain’t true. That girl belongs with Jean.”

“Jean doesn’t-”

“That’s not the point. The point is you could still be with her if you asked somebody for help every once in a while.”

“I don’t want help! I don’t need help! I just want to be left alone.”

“I don’t believe you do.”

Peggy walked to the door and stopped.

“I’ll be back.”

She walked out and shut the door. Paul sat back down. He scratched and coughed for half an hour but otherwise did not move from that spot. Then he got up, put the milk and eggs back in the fridge, and picked up his phone. He dialed a number and raised the phone to his ear, the corners of his lips sagging down and forming a deep arc as he did.

“Hey Jean.”

Those words hung in the air for several seconds.

“I thought I asked you, with a calm you did not deserve, never to call me again.”

“You did.”

“You always were an awful listener.”

“Is Tess there?”

“No, she’s at a friend’s house.”

“I wanted to see if she’d like to visit soon.”

“You know she hates that cabin. There’s nothing for her there.”

“I know, but… doesn’t she miss me?”

“She talks about you often. I try to stop her.”

“Could I come see her, then? Next weekend, maybe?”

Silence. Paul’s lip quivered and trembled.

“I’ll call you back.”

When the door to Paul’s cabin opened again, Peggy was holding cups and bags from a fast food joint. She sat on the couch next to Paul and pulled out two cheeseburgers, passing one to him.

“Hope you like Wendy’s.”

“Don’t know the last time I had it, but I do.”

They ate their burgers and their Frosties. Paul finished quickly.

“I should’ve gotten you more, huh?”

“Say, Peggy… what kinda jobs you know need doin’ round town?”

“All kinds. Benny’s always lookin’ for help at the diner, and I know they need clerks at the SupreMart. Why you lookin’ for work all of a sudden?”

“I think I’m gonna move. Sell this place to some hipster with a car who don’t mind the trip. Speakin’ of, do you think I could get a ride on Sunday?”

Eric Deters

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is a game designer and writer