Loveland

            Between Fort Collins and Denver, Colorado, there is a great expanse of what used to be nothing. Now, highway I-25 divides the endless land into two parts. On one side there are houses set in clusters, with miles of grass in between. Houses that were built cheaply and quickly and made to seem lavish, when in fact they are nothing but functional. These communities of identical structures spring up when least expected - like a bad memory. On the other side, there are farms, and even some trees, as the plains approach the foot of the Rockies. The mountains do not loom as many do, in fact, they are often masked by clouds, their peaks blurred so that anyone looking has to squint to see them clearly. However, on a nice day, rays of light will spring proudly from between a crevice in the range, the streaks of sunshine smeared across the sky, as though a painter had used the heavens as his canvas. Drivers are often blinded, and passengers are often captivated. Loveland lies somewhere in the middle of everything, one of many inconsequential towns falsely advertised with promising names. It was to Loveland that they were bound.

            "Honey, Im hungry," she said.

            "You're always hungry," he replied.

            She pressed against the back of the seat, arching her feet where they rested on the dashboard, "We haven't eaten since this morning, and I'm starving."

            "Well, next place we see, we'll stop."

            Minutes went by, she looked out the window.

            "Look at that sky," she said, "not a cloud in sight, just blue. Don't you love that, when you can see forever."

            "No," he said.

            "What do you mean no?," she stared at him.

            "I mean, I don't like staring at nothing, I'd like to see what's coming up."

            She remained quiet.

            He pulled off the freeway at the next exit. They drove into the town, which consisted of five different fast food places and a Holiday Inn, and one locally owned restaurant. He parked in front of the latter.

            She waited a moment, watching him walk to the front of the car and pause, then she opened her door. The building was brown like the ground, and the whole front wall was one big dirty window, with the word, "Restaurant", painted across the top in big letters.

            "What do you think they serve here at 'Restaurant'?" she smiled.

            "Food," he said.

            A bell chimed from an unidentifiable location as they pushed through the door.

The main dining area was a large room with tables and booths pressed against the windowed wall. Across the room there were dusty glass counters filled with an accumulation of junk - dolls, rusty belt buckles, Mexican ponchos, pie tins, cowboy hats, silver figurines and more. A moose head looked down solemnly from the wall, it's antlers gray, and it's eyes clouded and sad with age. Next to the counters there was a large opening that led into another, slightly smaller room. This room was darker, illuminated only by a few dim lights hanging low above the pool table which was standing in the center of the room. The bar was right next to the table,  a rainbow of bottles filling the shelves behind it, and a dim TV showing a soccer game was hanging above. At the conjunction point of these two rooms there was a hallway with the word, "Bathrooms", carved into a slab of wood above the entrance. Old piñatas and boxes labeled Cerveza crowded a hollow space above the hallway entrance and below the ceiling. The floor was caked in dust, which to the unobservant eye may have been mistaken for a dull gray wood.

            They sat across from each other in the booth closest to the door--she pushed up against the window, he remaining in the middle of his two-person bench.

            He opened his menu, staring blankly at the printed words.

            She watched him, leaving her menu closed.

            "Anything look good?" she asked.

            "Why don't you read it yourself?" he replied, without looking up.

            "I will, I was just making conversation," she said, lifting her menu off the table.

            He set his down.

            She stared fixedly at the menu's crease, her eyes unmoving.

            "What do you gotta do to get water around here?" he said, looking towards the bar.

            As if on cue, a young girl came over to the table, a dirty apron tied around her thin waist.

            She had long hair that lay loose around her gaunt face, and she stared at them, as if awaiting further instruction.

            "Why don't you order first?" the girl at the table said.

            "I'll have a burger, and a glass of water," he said.

            She glanced quickly at her menu, "I'll have nachos."

            As the waitress walked away, the girl leaned across the table, and half-whispered,"She can't have been more than sixteen! What's she doing waiting tables?"

            "Her family probably owns the place," he said.

            "I guess," she said, looking out the window.

            They didn't talk again until the food came.

            He took a bite of his burger, and grimaced.

            "What's wrong?" she said.

            "It's not cooked right," he said.

            "Well, ask for a new one," she said.

            "No, it doesn't matter, I'll eat it."

            "They can easily make you a new one, don't eat it if you don't like it," she said.

            "I've eaten worse," he said, taking another bite.

            She still hadn't touched her food,"This is silly, you shouldn't have to eat something you don't want."

            He didn't reply.

            She stared at him.

His food kept him occupied for a few minutes, and as soon as he looked up, she blinked, and looked away.

“I don’t understand what you’re so upset about,” he said, wiping his mouth.

She didn’t say anything.

“You’re not the one eating the burger.”

“I know,” she said, still looking away.

“Then what’s the problem?”

She turned back towards him.

He tried to smile, but his mouth just pulled up at one corner, staining his face in a pained smirk.

“Lewis, why are we here?”

“We’re getting food, you said you were hungry.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You mean why Loveland? Well, it’s where your mom is, and I know you want her to be there. Hell, I’d probably want my mom there if she were still alive. It’s what’s right.”

“I know, but why are we doing it in the first place?”

His expression was blank.

“I thought it’s what you wanted,” he said.

She looked at him.

He looked back.

“Why didn’t you buy me a ring?” she said.

“I didn’t know you wanted one.”

“Well, I do.”

“Alright, then we’ll stop and get you a ring.”

“And you too.”

“And me too.”

“Okay, good.”

She picked up a chip, and held it before her mouth.

“Lewis?” she said.

“What.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to send that burger back?”

“I already ate it. What’s done is done. Stop bugging me about it.”

“Fine, but Lewis?”

“What.”

“Never mind.”

He pushed the plate out of his way, and took a long sip of water.

She took a bite of her chip, and looked out the window.