When Darkness Calls

As we approached town, my mother spotted a drive-in eatery called The Burger Shack.

“Aw, it’s not open yet.” She pouted and continued driving until she pulled up to a tiny ’50s-style café. It had large chrome-trimmed windows and a checkered tile facade. “I suppose this place will suit our needs.”

Inside, a host popped out of the kitchen to greet us with menus. He guided us to a red-vinyl booth accented with even more chrome.

“This town seems obsessed with the past,” I commented as I assessed the decades-old menu.

“A lot of people romanticize the past, believing it to be a better time that should be resurrected,” my mother said.

“It was for men,” I muttered under my breath, aware that we were the only female patrons.

My mother stifled a giggle and gave me a warning pinch on the arm as our server launched into her spiel. “My name is Macey. I will be your server today. Do you folks know what you want to drink?”

“Coffee, black,” we said in unison.

“I just brewed a fresh pot,” Macey said. “I’ll have it out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

As Macey walked away, my mother sighed. “Not a single burger on the menu.”

“Can’t you put aside your love for burgers until lunchtime?” I chided her.

“I wasn’t craving beef until I saw that burger place,” she grumbled.

“I never understood your beef obsession,” I scolded her lightly. “You of all people should know how bad red meat is for you.”

“There are worse things in this world. Besides, in my younger years, I wasn’t allowed to eat red meat, so beef became my forbidden fruit.”

It wasn’t often that my mother spoke about her youth, so I leapt at the opportunity to learn more. “Why? Were your parents vegan?”

“Not consuming beef is part of our culture; cows represent goodness and are hailed for the nourishing milk they provide. It is believed that Krishna favored cows,” she divulged.

“What do you believe?” I pressed her.

“I believe that cows are delicious,” she quipped as Macey returned with a steel coffee pot.

After filling two mugs with steaming coffee, she left the pot behind. My mother lowered her chin so she could gaze at her reflection in the polished silver.

“I look terrible…,” she moaned, running her fingers through her short bob.

My mother looked anything but terrible. She had a pretty face, dark features, and a high brow.

Until this past year, her age had been indeterminable. Stress and grief had not completely ravaged her features, but she did now sport crow’s feet, and there was a permanent worry line between her brows.

“You look beautiful, Mom,” I assured her. “We’re both just worn out from the trip.”

A few minutes later, we ordered and ate in silence. Though the food was cooked to our specifications, it was bland.

“I don’t think we are the target demographic for that cafe,” I commented as we exited.

“I wonder if the local grocer sells paprika,” my mother said.

“I’m sure they do, Mom,” I said, rolling my eyes as we got back into the car to visit Conners’ Market, Grandville’s family-owned grocery store.

Small towns have their own set of social politics, and outside influences are rarely welcome. My mother and I knew this, so we did our best not to take offense when other shoppers gave us odd looks or openly gawked as we shopped.

We had once been those people, and we knew full well that within the next few days, we would be the subject of speculation and gossip.

“Just avert your eyes and pretend you don’t notice them,” my mother advised as we passed another customer who shamelessly stared while we browsed the freezer aisle.

“Do you remember what happened to the Peabody family?” I whispered to her.

“That was different. The demographic here is more diverse. I’m sure most of these people were transplants at one time.”

Our old neighborhood was the kind people were desperate to move away from, not to, so the Peabodys moving in had naturally stirred curiosity.

When a private neighborhood chat group led by the town’s most prominent conspiracy theorist had suggested that they vet the Peabodys, they’d come across an article about a scandalous couple who just happened to have the same surname.

For months, the Peabody family had been harassed until they were forced to move. When the story had gone viral, the county had issued a formal apology, and the town had paid reparations.

At the time, I’d thought it had been a sufficient punishment, but now I wasn’t sure it had been enough.

“I wish they would stop gawking at us,” I hissed, feeling annoyed.

“They’re just curious,” my mother said, doing her best to appear unbothered. “Their minds will be eased once they get to know us. Now, stop scowling and do your best to appear friendly.”

“That’s a bit difficult when you feel like people are boring holes into your head,” I grumbled.

“Didn’t you say you needed shampoo? Why don’t you go over to the hair care aisle?”

“Why?” I whispered dramatically. “So I can suffer alone?”

“So I can shop in peace,” she replied sharply, then, in a calmer tone, said, “I’ll text you when I’m done, and we can meet at the register.”

I huffed. “Fine, but if we end up like the Peabodys, you’ll have no one but yourself to blame.”

When my threat didn’t elicit a response, I marched off in search of the shampoo aisle, and within seconds, I was lost.

I glanced up at the sign again, just in case I’d misread it. Though the sign above aisle three stated that it carried shampoo, none was to be found.

Assuming the aisles may have been mislabeled, I rounded the corner and found myself in the baby formula section.

“Do you need help, miss?” a voice piped up from behind me.

“Whoever stocks these shelves needs to be fired,” I spat as I spun around to address whoever had spoken.

“That would be me,” a young man with mahogany-brown hair and soulful eyes told me. “I’m in charge of stocking.”

Blanching slightly, I stammered. “I…I mean…I am trying to find the shampoo aisle.”

Thankfully, the young man appeared slightly amused. The name tag pinned to his smock revealed his name was Toby.

“I apologize for the horrible job I have done, though I was only following orders,” Toby said. “I’ll be sure to tell my boss that I should be fired immediately.”

I shook my head. “I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“I was just yanking your chain.” He couldn’t suppress a grin. “Come on, I’ll show you where the shampoo aisle was relocated.”

I trailed along behind him as he led me to the back of the store, where a wide selection of shampoo was displayed.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “We decided to rearrange the store today. I’ve been busy moving the products and haven’t had a chance to change the signs.”

“I hate it when stores move their aisles,” I complained. “I end up wandering around, trying to find what I need.”

“That’s the entire point,” he said. “The theory is, the longer customers have to linger, the more products they will buy.”

“Does that really work?” I asked him in a faint voice.

“It’s very effective,” he revealed with a playful wink.

Judging from his youthful looks and demeanor, I deduced that Toby was around my age, maybe a year or two younger.

“I guess you would know that from years of customer service experience,” I joked.

“I haven’t been working here long,” he said, confirming my suspicions. “But my family owns the place, so I am pretty familiar with the ins and outs of being a grocer.”

“Oh, this can’t get any worse!” I cried and clapped my hands over my mouth before my lips could betray me again.

Toby waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not a big deal, really.” Then he leaned forward and added, “If it were up to me, the products would stay put.”

“Thank you,” I managed. “I better get my shampoo and go before I say anything else and everyone in town hates me.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Are you the one who bought the old Johnson house?”

“My mother purchased Virginia Cole’s former home, yes,” I corrected him. I didn’t want anyone to get the impression that my mother and I were death-obsessed psychos that wanted to bask in murder scenes.

Toby nodded. “I heard it sold. My mother actually went to Virginia Cole’s estate sale.”

“I hope she snagged something fancy.”

“Only a few first editions, most of them classics. My father was so mad when he found out how much she had spent,” he said, his eyes widening at the memory.

“I bet some book collector out there would be willing to take them off her hands if she ever wanted to recoup her losses,” I said. “When I say book collector, I’m talking about my mother.”

“Ah, so your mother is a book enthusiast,” he surmised.

“It’s a new hobby,” I said. “She got really into reading after my father died.”

Toby looked taken aback by my bluntness.

I shook my head, mortified at myself. “Sorry, that was too much information. I didn’t mean to overshare, it just slipped out.”

Without bothering to look at the shelf, I plucked a bottle of shampoo and turned to leave, afraid that if I stuck around any longer, I would find a way to make this encounter even more awkward.

But before I could slip away, Toby asked, “Will you be attending Yellowstone in the fall?”

“Yeah, I think so. Do you go there?”

“It’s my junior year,” he offered. When he paused for a moment, I realized he was expecting an exchange.

“I’m a senior this year,” I said, and though I could have been mistaken, I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment in his expression.

“I’m Toby,” he said, offering his hand.

“Dharma,” I replied, accepting it in a hearty shake.

“Dharma. That’s an unusual name,” he remarked. “I can assume your family practices Hinduism?”

“Um, not really,” I said, letting out a nervous laugh. “But I’m surprised you know the origins of my name. Most people assume that it is something my parents made up.”

“I like to read about other cultures,” he said and pointed at the tiny silver pendant around my neck. “I also have a pendant with the wheel of dharma.”

“Maybe if we both wear them, we can be twins,” I jested.

“As long as you don’t copy my outfit on the first day, that’s fine with me,” he retorted, flashing me a smile that exposed two rows of perfect white teeth.

There was something about his smile that lit up his face and transformed him. Suddenly I wanted to linger a little longer, but before I could think of a way to continue the conversation, my phone started blaring.

“Not now, Haylee,” I thought as I fished it out of my pocket.

“Is that your boyfriend calling?” Toby attempted to keep his tone light, but I suspected he was fishing for information.

“No.” I gave him a knowing look. “It’s my mother. She’s waiting for me up front.”

“I better not hold you up, then,” he said, stepping aside so I could pass.

“It was really nice meeting you,” I called over my shoulder. “Thank you for helping me locate the shampoo. I will be sure to give your store a five-star Google review.”

As I hurried down the aisle, Toby called out to me. “Dharma, how can I get a hold of you? Just in case we move the shampoo again!”

I glanced back. “I’m dharmadupree18 on all my socials.”

I hurried forward, knowing that my mother would be upset if I kept her waiting. By the time I reached her, she was by the door with her phone in hand, prepared to send me another text.

“Sorry I took so long. All of the aisles are mislabeled.”

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Tell me about it. I was trying to find coffee, and there was nothing but kitty litter.”

I hesitated. “But you got coffee…right?”

“Of course!” she exclaimed. “I got lost physically, not mentally.”

“Good,” I said, taking the cart from her to roll it out to the parking lot.

“I guess letting you wander off on your own did you a lot of good,” my mother commented. “You seem less tense.”

“I met one of the kids from school,” I informed her. “He seemed pretty nice.”

“Was he lost as well?”

“Actually, his family owns the store. He told me they’re rearranging the merchandise. That’s why it’s so chaotic.”

“Hopefully they have everything sorted when we return,” she said as we loaded the groceries into the car.

My phone dinged again as we were exiting the parking lot. It was a notification, and for a moment I found myself hoping it was Toby.

“How is Haylee doing?” my mother inquired.

“She’s fine,” I said, attempting to keep the mild disappointment out of my voice. “She seems super excited about something and wants to call me later.”

“Well, by all means, call her.”

“It may be something private. I’ll call her when we get back.”

My mother smirked across at me. “You know, I was young once too. There is nothing you and Haylee can say that would shock me, and if you ever need someone to confide in, you can trust me.”

I smiled. “I know, Mom, and I love you for it.”