Wallflower Girl

Chapter 33

He smirked at her and combed his hair in front of the mirror. She sat up on the mauve and white comforter that they, in their hurry, hadn't even bothered to pull back. Her clothing was askew, her body half exposed. She blushed deeper and pulled her bra back into place. The crotch of her underwear was soaked, but there was still dinner to get to before it spoiled completely. She had seen a big free-standing porcelain bathtub when she was looking for a place to hide, and the thought of soaking in that after dinner was nice. Her apartment only had a shower, as had the motel room, assuming either of those even existed in this alternate universe.

Anne's husband chatted about the farm all through dinner. The food had been superb, just the way she would have made it under ordinary circumstances, with herbed butter up under the chicken's brown and crackling skin, rich buttery gravy to be ladled over potatoes, and garden fresh green beans, lightly boiled but still crunchy, with a sprinkle of salt. The commonality between cooking in 1968 and 2013 was reassuring, and the familiar flavours comforted her greatly. Her husband devoured his meal with the enthusiasm only a young husband who worked hard with his hands could muster, and she took a great deal of pleasure out of watching him relish the meal, taking big bites between snatches of chatter.

She learned that she worked at the diner she had seen, and that information only added to her confusion. She had remembered the place when she had seen it on Friday.