RJ pulled his Honda into the roadside Park and Shop. When he was last here this was just a repair shop and some guy named Shorty did all the car repair, drove the wrecker and sometimes even the school bus. You need similar skills for all three he thought wryly.
Getting out of the car, he paused with one foot on the ground and looked down. This was the first time he had ’set foot’ in West Virginia in 10 years. Should it feel so strange? It wasn’t really ground or soil he was touching just oil stained concrete. Shrugging he popped the gas tank open and turned to swipe his card thru the reader but the pumps weren’t new enough for that feature. They were dingy and rusted and had a lever to lift on the side when you wanted to start pumping fuel. They were probably old when he left had left this town, and it surprised him that they still worked. He decided to take a chance on whether they would only accept cash and started the pump. The only money he’d spent on the drive down was for a quick tollway burger late last night. As he filled the tank, RJ noticed the cost per gallon was higher than in Indiana. Some things he guessed, had kept up with modern times.  He could have done with seeing some 1985 prices on other things he might pick up and take back to Indiana with him.

He went inside, blinking in the sudden dark of the shop. The floor of the place still carried a hint of oil-soaked sawdust from its days as a garage. The floorboards were old and grey, and they creaked as he walked down a few narrow aisles. He had a look at the meat counter, it bore a handwritten sign proudly proclaiming “Get your deer butchered here!” Moving toward the register he picked up two small bags of peanuts and a Diet Coke. Apparently diet Dr. Pepper was still a rumor in these parts.

The lady at the register was chunky and wore a stained butcher’s apron over a voluminous t-shirt and blue slacks. Maybe she did double duty, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the shop. RJ tried to remember when deer season was and couldn’t quite place it, sometime in the fall or winter he thought. October might be too early. Didn’t really matter, he was as likely to go hunting while he was here as he was to do car repair or coal mining for that matter.

The lady snapped him out of his reverie with a loud “Is this gonna be cash or charge honey?” RJ noticed he was being closely scrutinized, but wasn’t sure what the lady thought of his rumpled clothes and road weary face.
“Charge please, and I topped off my tank out there too.” The lady nodded, “Hee! “topped off”, that little car doesn’t hold much Go juice, does it? I saw ya out there trying to figure out the pump, didn’t know if you were gonna drive off without paying since I didn’t recognize you or the car.”

Grief, thought RJ, this town is so small they know people by their cars. I’m probably the only one here with a Honda Civic and this is probably the only place to get gas without driving back into Huntington. He smiled back without comment as he handed her his credit card. She looked at it –actually looked at it — front and back, then looked back at RJ, one eye squinting and the other owlishly wide. “Just who’s boy are you?” She asked critically, tilting her head to the side as if that helped her hear his response.

RJ was taken aback at the unexpected challenge and he blushed before answering. He wanted to say something flip like “I’m nobody’s boy, Lincoln free’d the slaves years ago.” But he wasn’t sure just how that would go over. No need to antagonize random people here, he admonished himself, despite their nosiness.
“I’m a Selkirk, I’ve come home for my mother’s funeral.”
The lady leaned across the check out lane and looked closer at RJ’s face. He tried his best to return the gaze. “One of Gerri’s boys? You’re the one that’s been living in Indiana all this time aren’t you?”
Again it bothered Rj that this lady somehow knew about his family business without his knowledge. He reminded himself that she might have been a close friend of his mother’s and would have heard all about her family. Mom had always been proud of her family, no matter how fragmented it had become. He swallowed his outburst and said “Yes. I’m from Indiana now.”
The lady laughed harshly and shook her head “No you’re not! Once A Local,  Always A Local. Can’t run away that easy, especially you Selkirks. You have roots in the earth here, if you know what I mean.” She paused as if waiting on some confirmation that RJ did indeed know what she meant, but he was clueless how to respond. It was if he was being singled out in Sunday School and asked what some parable meant while the whole class watched. He picked up his things and signed — signed — the credit slip before heading back out the door. “Well…they don’t know I’m here yet, I better go.  Nice to meet you…bye!”

He stepped back out into the sun, noticing that she watched him from the store doorway as he walked around his car. Another pair of eyes belonging to an equally rotund mechanic sitting back in the shade was following his movements too. The man called out “How far did you drive from Indiana?” RJ wanted to confront him and ask how he knew he was from Indiana then realized as he walked up to his car that the mechanic could see his Indiana license plate from where he sat.

“453 miles in 9 hours.” RJ answered, wondering why he bothered be so accurate. Diving back into the car and latching the door, he saw the man stand up and move toward the car. He quickly put his Honda in gear and called out “Say hello to Shorty!” as he drove off.