A Simple Life: Chapter 73 (Patreon)

On the way back into town I learn that it was no coincidence that Winona had been driving that road at the same time that I was.  Like me she was coming into town specifically to make up.  In the hot, heady flush of new love each us had worried that our little spat spelled an end to something magical that hadn’t even gotten a chance to begin.  We were both being silly, as usual.

Once in town we head for the best breakfast on the island, and for a working class gal like Winona that meant Chub’s.  The whale shaped sign on the historic brick building read ‘Baleine Bistro’ but anybody who had been here for more than a couple months knew it simply as Chub’s.  It got this moniker from the nickname of the previous owner, a loud and portly man with a famously jolly smile.  His son, who took over the place back in the 90’s when Chub Senior passed on, had inherited his father’s grin though none of his girth.  Despite being as thin as a cornstalk the name had been passed on to him.  Tourists believed it was used ironically but we locals knew that it was simply a shortening of Chub Junior.  Though ‘Junior’ was now well into his seventies he was still as spry as a man half his age.  The lunch and dinner menus were your standard American Chinese fare, though his noodle dishes were to die for, but it was his simple, affordable, belly filling breakfasts that made Chub the hero of every man and woman earning an honest living on Ehkolie.

Even at this hour the place was already bustling.  As the bells above the door announce our arrival Winona and I are hit with a concussive wall of voices, laughter, and the clatter of cutlery on plates.  The main room was a large open square with a counter along the left wall, the kitchen at the back, booths around the other two walls, and a dozen or so tables filling the center.  Decorating the walls was a history of our island in photographs.  From the grainy black white early days right up to the construction of the latest tidal power project.

“I see a table.”  Winona says loudly as, on her tip toes, she peers over a group gathered around the register.

“H-H-Hold on.”  I say.  “I w-wanna show you something.”

“What’s that Sprout?”  She leans in to hear my naturally soft voice.

“Look at this.”  I lead her over to one of the framed photos just beside the entrance.  A little sticker at the bottom read ‘Docks, 1980’.  I point at a tiny yellow and black blob on the deck of one of the trawlers.  “That’s my Grandpa.”

Leaning in she pushes her glasses higher up her nose and squints.  “Really?  How can you tell?”

“He told me.”  I say with a smile.  “Cool, huh?”

“Yeah!”  She pats my shoulder and starts to look around.  “Hey, you got any pictures up here?”

“Me? Oh, oh no.  I-I just mostly t-take’em for myself.”

“Oy.”  Comes a sharp voice that cuts through the chaos.  “Micheal’s boy.  Avery, right?”

I turn around to see the scrawny septuagenarian.  “H-Hi Chub.”

“Don’t see you in here too much.”  He points to the far corner where one of his granddaughters was hustling to clear a booth.  “Spot right there.”

“Th-Thank you.”  I say, though my voice is swallowed by the noise.

“How’s that kooky Grandpa of yours?”  He asks as he guides us along at brisk pace.

“He’s…good.”  I lie.

“Good, good.”  He says.  “You got that garage open yet Winona?”

“Not yet.”  She says.  “Soon.”

“Alright!  Great, great.”  And with that as a goodbye he hives off to go schmooze some other customers.  In the times I’d been here I don’t think I’d ever seen him still for more than a few seconds.

We take our seats, opting to sit side by side instead of across from each other for a better view of the street.  The fact that it would allow us to hold hands was ENTIRELY coincidental.  All around us locals traded gossip, political opinions and off-color humor as we peruse the menu.

“The Full Chubby.”  Winona says after just a glance.

I giggle at the silly name.  “Um…I w-wish they served the c-clam noodles this early.”

“For breakfast?”  She laughs and gives me a playful shake.

I giggle more.  “They’re SOOO good.  I-I’ll just get the pancakes.”

“Hold on Sprout.”  She raises a hand and waves to get the attention of the nearest server.  “Amy!”

“Winnie.”  Nods the woman who had just cleared our table.

I am struck with horror as Winona asks, voice loud enough to carry over the din.  “Hey, what are the chances we could get some of those garlic clam noodles?”

My eyes bulge as I shrink in my seat, my face heating with an intense blush as I hear a few chuckles from those around us.  What was she doing!?  You couldn’t order those for breakfast.  It was against the rules!

“W-Winona…!”  I peep.

“Sorry, after 11.”  Amy says.

“Aw, come on Amy.”  Winona prods.  “Hook us up.”

“I-I-It’s o-o-okay!”  I say as loud as I can, which turns out to be a pitiful squeak.  “P-P-Panc-cakes are f-f-fine.”

I am aghast as Amy turns and shouts across the busy room  “Ey Grandpa!  Ey Grandpa!  EY, YA DEAF OLD BUGGER!”

“WHAT!”  He snaps.

“Someone wants the clam noodles.”

“WHA!?  For breakfast?  Who wants noodles for breakfast!?”

“Right here!”  Winona joins the shouted conversation, her arm around me as I try to disappear into myself.

“YOU?”

“Yeah man.”  Winona replies.  “Best noodles in town.  How about it?”

“Why you want noodles now?”

“I got a craving.”

“No noodles for breakfast!”

“Why not?  Come oooon.”

“Come on Chub!”  Comes a voice from the crowd to a sprinkle of laughter.  “Give the lass some clams.”

“Oh sure!  Give her noodles and next you ALL want noodles!  NOODLES ARE FOR AFTER 11!”

“Come on Chub, rules are made to be bent.”  Winona laughs, loving this back and forth.  “Have a heart.  I’m just dyin for them clams.”

“No!”

“Give ya half off an oil change.  How’s that sound?”

“Hell of a deal Chub.”  Comes another voice.  The whole damn place was getting into it.

“Mmm, fine!  Fine!  Give the girl her noodles.”  Chub waggles a knobbly finger at us.  “Expectin big tip!”

“You’ll get it.”  Winona shoots him a wink.  “Thanks old timer.”

“OLD TIMER!!!”

The entire restaurant erupts with uproarious laughter.  In the meantime I’m looking for the nearest hole to dive into.  An ant burrow would have been enough.

Amy turns to face us again with a humongous smirk.  “And what’ll you have?”

“Full Chubby for him.  Sunny side up, rye toast.”  Winona says as she slides the menus over to Amy.

Amy looks at us, eyes twinkling in mirth as her grandpa continued to make a meal of the scene.  “Anything to drink, ma’am?  Martini perhaps?”

“Nah.  Coffee for me.  He’ll have a tea.”  Winona says once it was obvious that I’d been struck mute.  “And waters for both of us.”

“One Full Chubby.  One Garlic Clam Noodles.  Coming up!”

“Ask and ye shall receive Spout.”  Winona says as she gives me a celebratory squeeze.

When I find my voice again I lean close to her.  “I c-c-can’t b-believe you d-did that!”

“What?  You wanted noodles.”  Hidden between us she slips her hand into mine.  “It never hurts to ask.”

“I…I…pbbbt!”

Squeezing my hand she says softly.  “I screwed up again.”

“No.  No.”  I say.  “No.”

As I feel her hand squeeze mine I wonder…what was I actually upset about?  Because she made a scene?  Who cares?  Everyone here seemed to love it.  Even Chub, despite his protests.  It would give them something to talk about and laugh about for a couple of minutes before they move on, brightening everybody’s day in the process.  And while I was sitting beside her it’s not like she’d actually put me on the spot.  She took on the brunt of the oddball order herself.  And, best of all, I was about to get the meal I actually wanted.  I NEVER would have had the courage to ask for it myself.

Looking up at Winona I smile. “Th-Thank you.”

“Anytime Sprout.”  She grips my hand extra hard.  “Hey, I was thinking…oh shit!”

Her wide eyes are suddenly locked on the jingling front door.  The reason for her exclamation reaches my ears before my eyes.

“Amos!”  Chub’s piercing voice calls.  “You and me gotta have a talk about this daughter of yours.”

Chapter 74