Page 23 of Reformation

“It’s fine,” she begins, taking a breath before replying. “The technical answer is a small town in Alabama that you probably don’t even know exists. So small that I was related to half of my graduating class of twenty-eight students. It doesn’t even have a newspaper that covers the town. The football team made it to the playoffs one year and no one was there to document it.”

This makes me laugh because I can’t even imagine a town that small. I didn’t even know every member of my high school graduating class because it was so big. “That explains your accent.”

Before she can respond to that, the waitress comes by and we place our order: two orders of French toast, one order of pancakes.

“Yeah, I can’t seem to shake it,” Paige continues. “If you can imagine, it was a lot thicker when I moved here. And I goreallySouthern when I’m angry.”

“Well, I can’t imagine you angry. When did you move here?”

“Yes. I can get angry. I have to be pushed to my absolute limit. And I moved here for college. I went to Virginia Tech. Majored in education. It took me a few years to find a job after I graduated, so I substituted before I landed at Jefferson. But it was worth it.”

“What made you pick Tech? It’s not exactly close to Alabama.”

She brings her coffee mug to her lips, taking a careful sip of the hot liquid before answering. “This is really good coffee. You wouldn’t think that a small diner like this would have really good coffee. I know good coffee and this, this is good coffee.”

I give her a knowing look, realizing a stall tactic when I see one. “I take it that talking about Alabama is off the table? And yes, the coffee here is amazing. Anytime I’m out this way, I swing by and pick up a cup.”

Paige sets her mug down, staring at it like it’s going to give her the answers to the world.

“I’m sorry. I just… that’s the most I’ve talked about my hometown in years. When I left Alabama, I promised myself that it was going to stay in my past. I really don’t like talking about it.”

I nod, understanding wanting to leave the past in the past.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… hell, I didn’t even mean to bring the topic up. I just… you’re like no one I’ve ever met.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

My comment hangs in the air as the waitress puts our meals in front of us. I dive straight into my French toast as Paige separates her two meals into a to-go box she asked for immediately.

“So now, I have to ask you, where did you come from?”

I look up at Paige, and from the smile she’s giving me, she’s not talking about where I was born, but since she shared, I should too.

“New York by way of Boston. I’m originally from Virginia. My mom still lives in Norfolk.”

Paige smiles, shaking her head, knowing what I just did. “Thank you for that, but I was meaning today. Why did you come to volunteer?”

“You.”

The look on her face is pure shock.

“Me? How did you know I would be there?”

I didn’t mean that I went there to see her, though I must say she was an added bonus when I saw her this morning. But since she’s taking it this way, why not have a little fun?

“Well, it was a charity event. And you apparently volunteer for every nonprofit in the county. I figured the odds were in my favor.”

She shakes her head, a shy smile hitting her lips. “I don’t volunteer everywhere.”

“Name one place you don’t.”

She starts to speak, then stops about five times, which of course, causes us both to laugh.

“Fine. I volunteer at a lot of places,” she says, trying to hide her smile behind her coffee cup. “You didn’t answer my question. Why did you come to the race today?”

I take a sip of coffee, stalling for a second to find my words. I don’t know why I’m embarrassed by admitting this. Well, I do. It’s because this new version of me, or the person I’m determined to try and become, feels like a foreign skin still. Then again, this is Paige. I doubt she could make me feel bad or embarrassed about anything.

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