Where Are You From?  Where Are You Going?

Written with the prompts:  I found the strangest thing in my pocket, they were so loud they couldn’t hear her, staring at the ground, the story of your name, brews, bacon and French fries and eggs, snippeting, chance to see the world, Patricia might disagree, where are you from, a woman named__, lost in the delusion that things will work out, spontaneous, we are not, a ribbon of bats, sex drugs and coco puffs, black diamond, companion

Ellie was from a town in the valley where it seemed everybody ate too much bacon and French fries and runny eggs, bingeing on brews, sex, ludes, and coco puffs, late at night after chaotic concerts where everybody yelled so loud you couldn’t even hear the singers singing.  That was the weekend, week after week, waking up on Monday wondering how you got bruises on your shins and cuts on your knuckles, poker chips and a stranger’s earrings in your pockets, plus the fading ink from a dance hall stamp on the back of your fist.

It was a Tuesday at lunch time at the Starbuck’s where Ellie worked.  She was sober and alert when a woman named Patricia came in.  She was blond and blurry, ordered coffee black, then leaned in to tell Ellie, “You need to get over this delusion that things are going to work out.”

Ellie stared at the ground, then shifted her focus to stare at the blurry Patricia.  “I’m not—” she started but Patricia was shaking her head, tut tutting, even snippeting at Ellie.  “Don’t you tell me what you’re not.  No!  you are deluded.  Get a little spontaneity in your life and get out—Get Out!!—of this town.  Go someplace where they grow fresh vegetables and bake whole grain bread.  Find your very own Black Diamond.”

“Black Diamond?” Ellie repeated.  “What are you talking about?  Some kind of ring?”

“No, a Black Diamond is a metaphor,” Blurry Pat said.  “It’s a metaphor for a challenge.  Push yourself.  This is your chance to see the world.”

Ellie squinted at Patricia, sure the woman was nuts.  “How did you say you want your coffee?” she asked, hoping to distract her.

“Forget coffee.  Leave now or be stuck forever.  Follow the ribbon of bats into the night.  Trust me.”

“You’re crazy,” Ellie muttered.

“And you, Ellie, have more compassion that you realize.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Come with me,” Patricia invited.  “I will teach you the story of your name.  Come now.”

Ellie took off her apron.  It seemed it was time.

Photo by Anton Ponomarenko