The Largo
Roads are weird. They lead us to places, take us on adventures, guide us home, or take us to people who feel like home. That’s on the good days. Sometimes roads lead to nowhere. We have to turn around, take the same road out again. If we’re smart, we take our time, find a map, look up where we want to be on GPS, find the right road the first time.
But what if we don’t know where we want to be?
What if we don’t know where home is?
What if we don’t know who we even are?
I guess that’s when the road itself can become home. The people we meet along the way become our family. The places we go become part of who we are, molding us into who we’ll eventually realize we’ve become.
Of course, I’m not anything special. I didn’t go through my life drawing these kinds of deep ruminations from my every day. Like most of society, I was just trying to survive.
“Look, I got a sandwich,” I reach into my car and pull out the greasy paper sack that holds what was going to be my breakfast, “That’s all I got to offer you, man, if you’re hungry you’re welcome to it.”
He shakes his head, “You don’t got a couple dollars on you? I need cash, I have food allergies, I can’t eat that.”
“The only money I got is going in this gas tank,” I shove the nozzle into the tank of my car and pull the handle to start pumping, “I’m sorry you have food allergies. This is a sausage biscuit from Hardee’s, you’re allergic to that?”
“I can’t eat pig,” the man argues, “It’s against my religion.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” I shake my head at him, watching the numbers quickly climb as the couple increments of a couple gallons of fuel pour into my car’s tank, “I don’t have anything else to offer you.”
“I just need a couple dollars,” he inches a little closer to me, “That’s all I’m asking.”
The tank shuts off when it hits the five dollars I’d paid for, “If I had it, I’d give it to you, I don’t have it.”
“Its bad, you know?” He rambles, “I fought in two wars, and I’m living on the streets. Ain’t nobody got time to help me, I lost my house when my wife left, I can’t work, you know? Couldn’t pay my bills,” he holds his hand up, “I got bit by a snake under the bridge, you know the bridge?”
I nodded. I don’t know the bridge, don’t know anything about this town, I just stopped for gas.
“I got bit by a snake under the bridge,” he repeats, “And I fought in two wars!”
“I’m sorry to hear that, man,” I ease my car door open again, “You sure you don’t want this sandwich?”
“It’s against my religion,” he shakes his head, “You don’t got some change in your cup holders?”
“Nope,” I slide into my seat, “I hope you find some food you can eat!”
He was still talking, but I pulled my door shut and put the car in drive, easing away from the pump. He was still standing there, I’m pretty sure he was still talking, when I pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road.
I grip the steering wheel with both hands and breathe deep. So maybe the guy had food allergies for real, maybe he didn’t believe in eating pork, maybe he wasn’t just desperate for money so he could buy a beer instead of actual food like he said.
If I had cash, I would have given it to him just so he’d leave me alone.
But I didn’t have cash, didn’t have change in my cup holders. I’d honestly spent my last ten dollars on the gas I’d put in my tank, and the sandwich I’d offered to give away.
I was sorry to leave him standing there, claiming to be hungry and rambling on about wars and snakes, but I also was glad I still had my sandwich. My stomach was growling hard enough that it hurt into my back. I knew I’d have killer heartburn later, putting this greasy sausage on an empty stomach, but right now I just needed to eat something.
I’d gone about fifteen miles from that little gas station before I’d relaxed enough to take one hand off the wheel and open my sandwich. It was the best damn thing I’d tasted in a long time. I guess I could have stretched my money buying a loaf of bread and some cheese or something, but I wanted this biscuit.
I’d left Wells two weeks ago with fifty dollars, three cans of tuna, a box of crackers, and everything else I could prove was mine stuffed into a raggy, hot pink duffle bag I’d had since I was twelve.
I’d traveled north, then turned west, making good time first on the interstate, and then getting off on back roads trying my best to get as lost as I could.
I had no idea where I was. I’d stretched the gas in my tank and the tuna I’d brought for as long as I could. I’d crossed two state lines, one Virgina, the other Kentucky, and I just crossed a third as I finished the last bite of my sausage biscuit.
I was in Illinois. I’d never been here in my life, despite how much my family traveled as I grew up. I didn’t recognize anything around me, especially now that it had started to snow.
I kind of had an idea where I was going, though. I was headed to a little hotel called The Largo, off a road called Paris Street, in a town named Branch.
There’d been an ad in a paper at one of the stations I’d stopped at in Kentucky.
Night clerk needed. Family-owned hotel. Room and board offered, besides salary. Apply front desk.
The paper had been a week old, but I hoped they still needed help. I could have a place to stay, food to eat, and maybe make a little money to replace the windshield wipers on my car. If they didn’t need a night clerk, maybe they needed a housekeeper, or knew some other hotel that did.
Worst case, I’d find some place that needed cleaning work, keep sleeping in my car like I had been, until I’d made enough to pay for a month at a cheap hotel. Then I could finally shower and maybe figure out what the hell I was doing.
Branch was a tiny town. Paris Street was the main road, and The Largo sat off a curve in the road, a one level hotel, with a long stretch of rooms on either side of a little lobby in the center.
It almost looked like a tourist type hotel, even if I didn’t see any reason at all why anyone would come way out here to tour anything. There wasn’t anything here, unless Paris Street turned off somewhere and Branch got a little bigger.
“Hello, young lady! Welcome to Branch, Illinois! How may I help you?” The woman at the front desk had exhaustive energy.
“Um…I’m here about the night clerk job?” I tried to sound like I was put together, and hoped there wasn’t bits of sausage seasoning in my teeth, or biscuit grease on my face.
“Oh!” The woman seemed surprised, “Really? We haven’t had one person come in asking about that job! Of course, we can’t offer much in pay, and there isn’t anything else to really keep someone in Branch,” she smiled at me, “But don’t let me scare you off, I really love our little town, and even if you have to stay up all night, there isn’t much to do as night clerk but watch the desk. We have a TV,” she comes around the desk and pushed the swinging half-door open so I could see, “You can watch it all night if you like, there’s wifi, and of course, if you like you’re welcome to a room and the free breakfast for as long as you work here.”
I’m not sure why she thought she had to sell me on it, “I’ll take the job, do you have an application I need to fill out?”
She laughs, a sweet, kind of melodic sound, “Oh no! If you want the job, it’s yours! Now, we don’t offer insurance or anything like that,” she stops a minute, “And the pay is going to be less than three hundred before taxes, we don’t have to pay minimum wage because we’re offering you a room, do you want the room? Even if you don’t take it, we can’t pay anymore.”
She had no way to know what she offered me sounded like a fortune.
“I’ll take the room,” I kept my voice as level as I could, trying not to sound excited at all, “And the pay sounds fine.”
“Well!” She again seemed surprised, like she was sure I would’ve told her to forget it, but then she smiled, “That sounds wonderful! Let me get you a key, I’ll get your information, you know your name, phone number, social and all.”
“I don’t have a phone number,” I set my little purse up on the counter, “But I have my social security card, and my name is Emily Reid.”
“Reid,” the woman stops and shakes her head, full blonde bangs bouncing, “I don’t know that name, and you don’t sound like you’re from here either.”
“No,” I smile and hand her my social, “I’m from farther south, I’ve never been here.”
“Oh!” She takes my card and steps over to an old copy machine that looked like it had been pulled from a 90’s era library, “I’ve got family in southern Kentucky, my mom’s dad was from the mountains there. What brings you this way? And looking for a job, no less!”
I shrug, “Just life, you know? I needed a fresh start.”
“Fresh start?” She glances at my license as she hands it back across the counter to me, “What are you, nineteen?”
I laugh, trying not to sound anxious, “I lived in the same place all my life. I wanted to travel.”
Both of those were lies, I’d rarely lived above a year in one place growing up and even spent some months living in a van we traveled so much. But it sounded like a good story, so I said it.
“Hey, if you’re looking to get into school, Branch University is renown!”
I had to stop at that. Branch University? This town was big enough for a college? A renown college?
“I might check it out!” I smile at her.
“You should! A bright, independent girl like you wouldn’t have any trouble getting in!” She pushed an envelope across the counter to me, “I’m Darla Hipp, by the way, my family’s owned and ran this little hotel since my grandfather built it back in the 20’s. It’s me and my brother Toby running the place now, and we got a couple girls who clean up and a maintenance man; you’ll meet them,” she smiled at me, “You’re in room 113, that’s on the right wing. Right wing is 100’s, left wing is 200’s, we only have thirty-one rooms to let all total, but you’ll learn all that stuff tonight,” she waves me off, “Night shift doesn’t start until ten, you’ll have plenty of time to check your room out, get settled, and grab a bite to eat!”
I thanked her cheerfully and showed myself back out the front door to my car.
It was easy to find room 113, it was almost at the end of the right wing of the building. A concrete walk ran down the front, a hedge of holly bushes separating the parking lot and the sidewalk. Pretty sage green doors with bright gold numbers were separated by wide windows, each with its own cream-colored curtain, and window box of evergreen hostas.
I parked my car and sat looking at the door in front of me.
This was it.
What I’d left for.
What I’d ran for.…
