A few minutes later, Jason came back, and he said, "Oh my God, you are such a freak."
"Seriously, he is not allowed to come back here, if you see that guy again, go another way," Jason said. He looked at the cookies on the floor, looked at my pale, trembling face, and he sighed, "A more serious question is, what shit did I do in my past life, and I ended up doing it in this shit place. A coffee bastard?"
"Be careful," I said, "Don't let the boss hear you. He is a real company guy, and he must be obedient or go for a walk."
Jason raised his chest with his hands on his hips, "Don't pay attention to the murderous Pharaoh Mr. Misè. You must have been very good in your past life to be lucky enough to work for your real boss."
"Friend, luck is just a personal opinion."
I knelt on the floor to collect the destroyed chocolate chip cookies. Jason knelt down beside me to help.
The next morning, the day of the wedding, I felt much better. much better. I feel rested from the deep sleep of a dreamless night.
I took a hot bath, put on makeup, beautiful hair, ate breakfast, and brushed my teeth. I not only feel better, but also look better than yesterday. I look like myself. I smiled at myself in the mirror. This will be a good day.
I am wearing shorts and a vest. I will change when I get there. My skirt has just been dry cleaned and hung behind the door, still wrapped in a plastic bag from a dry cleaner. I like that skirt. I don't consider myself a person who likes to wear clothes, but this dress is different from the other clothes I have worn before—or for that matter, I haven't tried it either. I bought it at a discount, but I still have to eat tomato soup for two months to pay. This is worth it. Every woman needs one to make her feel that this dress makes me feel.
I put camera equipment, skirts, and other things I thought might be needed in the car. My car is very old. There is no other way. Every time it starts, every time it goes home, I am surprised. I turned the key of the ignition device and it suddenly came alive. I turned on the air conditioner to its maximum volume. It's not cold anymore, but it's cooler than the outside air, and it's a bit cháo wet, smelling a bit like wet wool. Hey no need to pay for the car. This wheel full of garbage is mine, all mine, and I refuse to feel embarrassed about it. I am wise. People should respect my sensitivity. Although when I went to a wedding, out of consideration for the bride, groom and their guests, I parked the car as far as possible from the main entrance. Of course, dragging my gear in the parking lot of Siberia is a painful thing, but the wedding is about a beautiful, new beginning and hope. I am worried that my car will become a dim reminder of what real life is like. No one wants to see real life at the wedding.
The wedding was held on the Oregon coast. If you are lucky, it takes about an hour and forty-five minutes to drive, but most of the time is through the Cascade Mountains on a two-lane, winding highway. If the traffic situation is terrible, it is terrible. It took me five hours to get there once.
Today, the traffic is smooth. Thank goodness. I tuned the sound of the music to the maximum, and most of the time, I sang with all my strength.
The sky is blue, and light white clouds are dotted with high ground in the atmosphere. Lush, green evergreen trees are walking back and forth on the hillside. I like to imagine living on the mountain, far away from the rest of the world. I have the idea of isolation from the world.
From time to time, a clear bald spot appears on these magnificent green hills, or small green stubbles are planted again. I don't know why, but every time the trees are replaced by empty spaces, I am surprised.
Near the coast, near the 8 mile sign from the top of the mountain, there is a place where you can rise directly above a natural spring. Water taps and concrete basin fountains can be found on both sides of the highway. A blue information sign says drinking water, inviting drivers to directly fill water cans or any other type of container with fresh drinking water from the mountain spring. I always wanted to stop, but I didn't. On the way back, I told myself.
I arrived at Cannon Beach in record time. Near the outskirts of the town, there is a charming little burger shop, typical beach style, surfboards are made into furniture, and there are sand dunes along the sidewalk. Even if it is too far from the beach, the sand dunes will not form naturally. I always want to stop, like a spring faucet, I usually decide I will stop next time.
But today, I stopped.
Without warning, I started to feel uncomfortable. heavy sick. When I passed the burger shop, a burst of nausea came. I suddenly turned into the parking lot. The green minivan that I turned around in front honked loudly to express my dissatisfaction with my sudden turn, because, if you ask me, it's more than the time needed.
I staggered into a parking spot and leaned my head on the steering wheel. I feel like I'm going to throw up. I was soaked with sweat immediately. My hands and legs began to tremble uncontrollably, and I gripped my stomach tightly. It was tumbling, wearing flip-flops. I am going to lose it.
I opened the driver's door and stuck my head out of the car. I tried hard and hard, but nothing happened. I sat on the door with my arms for a long time, waiting for the nausea to pass. My car wiped, reminding me that the door is open and the key is still in the igniter.
I pulled out the key and put it on my knees. The nausea began to fade. I left the door open and leaned my head on the headrest. A cool sea breeze blew in from the open door. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I can smell the salt in the air.
I breathed slowly and intentionally until the nausea disappeared and I stopped shaking. No matter what I have, it is obvious that I have not forgotten.
When I opened my eyes, the restaurant did not look like a surf hut, but more like a soda shop in the 1950s.
I have a familiar feeling about that soda shop. My heart is beating. Even dancing with excitement.
I blinked and saw sand dunes and surfboards again.
I blinked again. Stationary surfboard.
I got out of the car and followed the smell of cinnamon rolls and bacon.
I think ーーNo, I need to walk into this restaurant. I have an incredible feeling that I have been here before. Seems familiar. I had a cold war. Someone is walking on my grave.
I looked around the parking lot. It's too early to be crowded, even though I have never seen such a crowded. There are only a few cars in the parking lot.
I walked down the boardwalk, which looked like a boardwalk; there were sand dunes decorated on both sides. This sand is not beach sand. It sparkles in the sun, clean and smooth, like sugar.
The huge door was opened, and I walked in.
To the right of the gate is the bar counter. A man turned his back to me and walked to the back of the bar to sort the bottles. When I walked in, he glanced at me.
"I'll be here soon," he said.
Russell.
I thought of this name. It just appeared in my mind.
"Russell?" I said.
I feel sick again.
He looked back at me.
"Kevin," he said. "Russell is my father."
He squinted, "Have we seen it?"
"No, at least I don't think so," I said.
He walked over.
"Only one?" He said, picking up the menu and rolling the cutlery into the napkin.
"Yes," I said.
I followed him to a stall in the corner. I stumbled on.
He grabbed my elbow to help me keep my balance.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
He smells good. keep clean. It's like the ocean. I approached him. Kevin is a muscular, angular black man. All I can say is that he is in his early thirties. He has short hair and a trimmed goatee. He helped me into a cubicle. Of course, the shape of the bench is like a surfboard.
He frowned.
My forehead and upper lip were sweaty. I don't want to attract the attention of others.
"Is this place a fifties-style soda shop?" I asked.
"It used to be Sugarman's soda shop. That was a long time ago.".
I gave in, opened the bundle of silverware, and wiped the sweat from my forehead and lips with the white cloth towel.
"I want a bacon cheeseburger and fries," I said, "and a glass of water, thank you."
"This is breakfast," he paused, ready to tell me that I need to order from the breakfast menu. "But the grill is already heated. I can do this for you."
"Sorry, Russell!" I blurted out.
He just turned to walk away, then turned back. His head tilted to the left. He squinted at me, trying to see what I was like.
"Say it again?" Kevin said.
"I don't know why I said that," I said, but I didn't. I didn't even realize that I had said these words until they came out of my mouth.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"Are you okay?" he asked again.
I shook my head, no. Then nodded, yes.
"I'm just overcoming something, a virus. I'm sorry. Can you give me a cup of coffee too?"
He took a step back, started the treatment, and didn't look away from me until the last minute.
I stared out the window, watching the coming cars, some driving towards the beach, some driving away. I twisted my fingers. A tingling numbness and tingling sensation enveloped my whole body, especially my fingers and toes. Coupled with the feeling of fever and dizziness, I am not myself. I felt light and reeds, as if I was floating outside my body.
I should go to bed. All I have to do is get through this wedding. I can do it. I can't help it. Everyone is counting on me. The only reason I was considered for this job was that a friend recommended me. But the most important thing is that it brings me more income than my photography income for the whole year of last year combined.
When the bacon cheeseburger was placed in front of me, I almost immediately felt better. Anchored. The feeling of floating disappeared, and I squeezed into my body neatly again. I haven't realized how hungry I am. I ate with relish. Bacon rǔ cheese hamburger is the best panacea. French fries can also help. I ate the last piece and licked the salt from my fingertips.
"Are you inquiring about Sugerman's shop?"
I looked up from the plate. An elderly black man looked down at me and pointed at my face with a crooked finger. His spine is straight and his head is straight, even though he is leaning heavily on a crutches to the side. His brown eyes are covered with a thin white film. He blinked quickly. He squinted his eyes and leaned closer. (To be continued) (End of this chapter)