Page 22 of Believe in Caloosa Springs

“Right?” Then, after a moment, she spoke up again. “So, have you figured out what you are doing with your life?”

“Yes, Mandy,” I said sarcastically. “After a day and a half, I’ve completely figured everything out. I’ve emailed you my detailed five-year plan; make sure you check your spam folder. Oh! I almost forgot, I have something I wanted you to look over…”

I lifted my ass off the lounger and dug into the pocket of my jeans. When I pulled my hand back out, I had my middle finger raised high. “Oh, look at that. Look at that little guy right there, isn’t that something?” I turned my hand around a few times in front of my face, as if I was really examining it curiously.

“Fuck off,” Mandy spat.

“What I’m doing with my life is helping my favorite cousin.”

“Flopping down on a chair scrolling through your phone is your idea ofhelping?”

“I’m here for moral support.”

“Right. Why don’t you morally support yourself across the street and order me an omelet from Cassie’s?”

“Oh, that sounds good!” I got to my feet. “You need another cup of coffee, too?”

“Is that a real question?” she deadpanned.

“My wallet is in your car. Is it unlocked?”

“Here…” Mandy opened the cash drawer and pulled out a 20. “Just take this.”

I looked down at the bill in her hand. “I’m going to get two omelets and two cups of coffee for 20 dollars?

“Yeah. Just leave the change for a tip.”

“How does anyone make any money in this town?”

“Weird when you are so far removed from general society and the ever-lurking tendrils of capitalism, isn’t it?”

“What does that even mean?” I scoffed.

Mandy chuckled. “It means that we have what we need, and don’t need to exploit our friends and neighbors for profit. Cassie can sell a cheese omelet for four bucks because she has 15 chickens in her yard; eggs cost her nothing. She gets the dairy straight from our neighbor's farm about 20 miles down the road for free because Oliver supplies the farmer with the pot for his wife’s glaucoma. It’s a beautiful system that works well as long as everyone remembers we are all here to support each other.”

“That’s… kinda incredible.”

She nodded, “It’s how society is supposed to be.”

***

I sat at a small two-top next to the door, taking micro sips from the piping hot coffee cup in my hands. Cameron had told me it would be about ten minutes for Sam to whip up the omelets. I was surprised it wasn’t going to be longer, considering the diner was packed. Most of the booths were full of Caloosa residents enjoying their breakfasts.

I thumbed through my phone, waiting a good three to five seconds for each reel to load. The service out here was shit, to say the least. I looked up as I heard the slight squeak of hinges as the kitchen doors swung open and Sam came through holding a steaming plate of food in each hand. He walked around Cameron, who was taking an order from a plump man in a brown cowboy hat, and dropped a plate of pancakes off to one table and then headed for a tall man with a buzz cut wearing a sheriff’s uniform.

Sam dropped the plate of eggs and bacon down in front of him and leaned over so they could share a quick kiss before Sam quickly went on his way back through the kitchen doors.

Aww. That was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

I looked around the diner, trying to take a good look at its patrons without being clocked staring at anyone. There were people of all ages in Cassie’s. An older couple sat in the far corner next to the window, sipping coffee and playing a casual game of cards. If I had to guess, I’d say they were in their late 70s and probably been married for 50+ years. I wondered if this was their morning routine. Had they lived their entire lives in Caloosa Springs, or just retired here?

The woman tucked a stray lock of white hair behind her ear and smiled as she laid her cards down on the table. I had no idea what they were playing, but I picked up that she’d just won as theman leaned over the table to scrutinize her cards before shaking his head and tossing his hand into the center of the table. The woman beamed and clapped her hands together silently.

My attention was pulled to the other side of the room, where a father was working on feeding a toddler propped up to the table in a wooden high chair. The dad was wearing cargo pants and a plain white shirt. I’d seen him at the Baker farm carrying some tools from one of the cabins. I figured that he must be a construction worker or something. The counter was blocking most of my view, but from all the giggling coming from the little one, I imagined that there was some tickling going on.

I’d never considered someone raising a kid here. Was there even a school? I hadn’t seen one. Maybe they were just in town visiting their parents, or something.

I looked over to a woman in her 30s eating a plate of fruit and yogurt. She had her AirPods in and was typing away on a laptop. The rest of the patrons were all pretty similar… lots of cowboy hats and blue jeans. There was a rough-looking bunch of guys towards the center of the room; seven or eight of them. They’d pushed a couple tables together to accommodate the party. They all seemed cheerful, laughing and slapping each other on the backs. It was obvious they’d already put in several hours of work. Probably more farmers.

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