THE ACCIDENTAL REBEL

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THE ACCIDENTAL REBEL

Joshua Graham

SO HERE'S THE DEAL.  I'm a pretty strong girl emotionally, but there's one problem that's plagued me all my life.  I can't stand violence.  When they invented the phrase, "couldn't hurt a fly," I'm sure they had me in mind.

This became clear to me while sitting alone in Rob's Restaurant one late afternoon in October, as the sun's dying rays flowed through the windows and bathed the wooden planked floor, the fishnet strewn beams made of logs, in a somber orange hue.  

Amidst all that was going on (multiple conversations, guests laughing) the thing I noticed was a tiny black ant, crawling across the blue Formica table top and looming dangerously close to my bowl of Rob's Clam Chowder.

Deal with it.  Just squish it and get it over with. 

Sheila, my server, must have picked up on my tension.  Without a word, she smiled and pressed her thumb down on the poor little ant and wiped it away.

For a moment, time stood still.

The sound of classic rock piping subtly over the speakers blended with the rhythmic bump, then clank of the bus boy sorting the silverware on the countertop and tossing them into the grey plastic bins.

It's just an ant

But the thought of its body being crushed, its entire existence snuffed out like that… 

I opened my eyes.

Felt like such an idiot. 

It's just an ant, I could hear Dad say.  And Mom.  And my sister Teresa, and… well, you get the picture.  But it was enough to make me sweat, make my head spin, and shorten my breath.

"Thanks."  I released my grip on the smooth, cool--but now damp--edge of the table.

Sheila pushed her glasses up her face.  "No problem.  Sorry about that, we don't usually have ants here."

"It's not a big deal, really."

She cast me a doubtful look, then put her hand on her hip.  "Honey, you look familiar.  Should I know you?"

"I'm nobody, trust me."

"We've had some famous people come in here, you know." She pointed to some photos just by the cute little gift shop near the entrance of the restaurant.  "Did you know Paul Newman, Henry Fonda, and Joanne Woodward have all been here?"

My cellphone buzzed in my purse.  Couldn't have been Mom and Dad, they knew better.  Too stressed out to answer any calls or texts now.  Not until after I had my chowder, anyway.  And not just any chowder, Rob's Chowder.

"You an actress?  I mean, you look like…like…" she tapped her chin and stared up at the redwood blades of the ceiling fans, spinning and spinning.  "Oh shoot!  Now what's her name?"