Paradise

Driving, trying to make sense of his directions, Archer heard his phone buzz. No doubt, his fiancé, Winsome, had texted him again.

He stopped to wait for a jaywalker to cross.

‘Of course. He’s in a hurry. Couldn’t possibly walk fifty yards to the light. Can’t miss that urgent appointment with the bus bench. Hope you don’t cross paths with some red-light scofflaw. Could get ugly.’

Archer had many uses for his stream-of-consciousness internal rants. He called them free association brainstorming with a side of channeled anger. Sometimes, he’d latch onto an idea for an article or story to write. At the very least, his acrid takes on humanity’s failings kept him entertained.

‘He didn’t even look. A little free advice, buddy… At least acknowledge those who defer to your untethered sense of reality.’

“One more chapter for ‘Archer’s Etiquette Book, tips for surviving the 21st century.’” Of course, no one would read it. He wouldn’t write it. It simmered in Archer’s brain pan tamping down his ever-smoldering temper.

‘Hate for my head to explode en route to an important meeting.’

While the jay walker’s shopping cart cleared his lane, Archer checked his phone.

‘Winnie, Guiness doesn’t track text messages. You’ll never get a world’s record, no matter how many you send. Repetition isn’t a virtue…’

So far, he’d received twenty-one texts from Winsome this morning. Did she expect him to answer them all?

‘She rushed me out this morning, only to text me as soon as I was gone. One perk to texting - answering when convenient.’

Pounding his steering wheel, he shouted, “They’re all the same! I get it. Doing the best I can…”

Even the jay walker looked startled.

Archer was late for an appointment with Winsome and their wedding planner. He’d left in plenty of time. But the fates had it in for him. Three accidents, street repair, and a parade had caused unforeseeable delay.

That, and the fact he forgot his directions transformed an easy drive into an ordeal.

Horns honked behind him. The jaywalker had crossed. Archer gunned his engine. The light turned yellow and forced him to stop.

‘Should have become a fireman. Could hit the siren and bypass all these know nothings. Sheesh!’

As Archer drove, he felt like he was increasing his distance from his goal.

‘Why pick a wedding planner half the state away?’

He daydreamed about his writer’s block. ‘What if I left the city and found peace and quiet? I could concentrate on the writing without distractions.’

Having left the suburbs, he now saw fields of food crops spread out and away.

‘When writing about a place or experience, one wants authenticity.’

These days, an empty page was the most authentic thing in his life. He’d recently become incapable of writing. Such a funk. Did the funk stop him from writing? Or did the inability to write create the funk?

‘Could I write in idyllic circumstances? Conflict is humanity’s natural state. Without it, then what?’

The ribbon of highway stretched out forever. ‘Where’s the turn off?’

‘If I were happy, would I write at all? Could I? If I were happy, would I care if I couldn’t write? I’d find something else to do. Is that the source of my blockage? I’m happy?’

Archer shook his head. He said, “Doubt it. I don’t feel happy.”

‘But I should be. I’m getting married. I’m in love… Aren’t I?’

Jamming his brakes, he jerked his wheel to avoid another driver’s U-turn in front of him. Another car skidded onto the shoulder.

He spewed a torrent of unprintable words.

‘They used to be unprintable. Now they’ll print anything.’

Literary standards once dictated polite usage. Designed to protect the delicate sensibilities of women and children, they’d become obsolete. Now children don’t read and the way women talk… never mind.

Archer pulled off at the next exit. Checking his phone he couldn’t believe he had no reception.

‘Where am I? Heaven? Where am I? Who knew one could escape from omniscient phone reception? I want to live here.’

The phrase ‘calculated serendipity’ came to mind. Sure to find a use for it, he made a note.

Following the country road, he sought a gas station for directions. He entered a roundabout. Five roads radiated out from it.

‘Middle of nowhere… one’s as good as another…’

Picking a turn at random, he passed into and through a tunnel of trees. The foliage overhead was so dense, his headlights came on.

‘Where am I?’

He emerged into sunlight. A picturesque village with flowering trees lining the streets lay before him. People walking on the sidewalks called out and hailed each other with friendly waves.

‘Weird…’

Spotting a gas station down the street, Archer pulled in. The attendant smiled and walked up to his window.

“Fill ‘er up?”

‘Wow! When was the last time I saw full service?’

“Uh, no… sorry. Looking for a place to get a coffee.”

“That’s easy. Lila’s Café, on the next corner is perfect.”

“Great. Thanks… By the way, where am I?”

“Call it Paradise. Only the locals know about it.”

He shifted into drive.

The attendant said, “You want me to wash your car while you eat?”

“What?”

“I’m not busy. And the road dust messed up your car. You want it looking good, don’t you?”

“Sure. That’s nice of you. How much…?”

“Oh, no charge. Happy to work on such a fine piece of machinery.”

Archer nodded in agreement. He’d never thought his car was anything but transportation, but if this guy liked it…

“Well… how can I refuse that? Thanks!”

“My pleasure…”

Archer walked toward the café. A new brainstorm stopped him. ‘Wait! I have plenty of conflict with this wedding looming. Why can’t I write?’

He shook it off, entered the café and sat at the counter. A few people sat in booths. He glanced at the menu until he saw movement. He looked up to see the waitress smiling at him.

Archer almost heard a heavenly chorus accompanying his thoughts.

‘Her smile makes me want to jump up on my hind legs and beg for a treat… Wait, that’s what Winsome expects from her dog. I’ll just smile.’

She held her order pad ready. “Can I get you something?”

“Oh… right. Which flavor pie do you recommend?”

“Our most popular is blue boysenberry. But I prefer the Key Lime.”

“One slice of Key Lime then. And a coffee. Black.”

She wrote on her pad.

Archer added, “Two forks, if you would like a bite.”

She laughed. “Thanks, maybe another time.”

‘What am I doing? I’m engaged… But do I want to be?’

When she served his pie and coffee, Archer tried another tack.

“Everyone is so nice here.”

“Paradise. A nice little town. We all look after each other.”

“I’d like to move here.”

“You could do that.”

“Is there work?”

“Always work… You do anything special?”

“I write. But I’m not afraid to do real work.”

She laughed. “Our newspaper sells out all the time. It’s not like most papers. Only good news.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Everyone here was raised with the idea that we all have struggles. So, if we can’t help, we can at least be kind.”

“That’s radical…”

“Seems to work. Some go away and don’t return. But most like it.”

“Why would anyone leave?”

“I don’t know. But some do…”

“I’m just passing through today... I want to live here.”

She looked like she wanted to pat his head.

“Uhm, this is embarrassing. I want to see you again. Get to know you. You know, spend time…”

“We’re open every day, eight to eight…”

“No. I mean outside of work.”

She paused, grasping his meaning. “My day off is Monday.”

“What’s your name?”

“Evangeline…”

“Ahh… beautiful… I’m Archer.”

She smiled and took a step back.

He said, “You’re going to think I’m a lunatic. I only found this place by accident. Never heard of it. But it’s so nice here. How do I find it again?”

“Take the exit off the highway…?” She shrugged.

He said, “I know… those who left couldn’t find their way back.”

She gave him her pen. “A souvenir…”

He examined it and saw the café’s name and address printed on the barrel.

He raised his coffee cup and smiled at her. “I will be back. Thanks…”

He slipped it into his jacket pocket. ‘Don’t want to lose this.’

~

Archer awakened in the back seat of his car. He peered out the window to see a large meadow with grass undulating in the breeze.

‘Wow! Where am I? How did I get here? What a dream… was that a dream?’

He checked his phone. He had received over a hundred texts from Winsome. ‘What? Like a thousand texts from my winsome Winnie. I need to get an app to answering them, ‘Duly noted.’’

He rolled his eyes. ‘At least I have reception.’ His phone buzzed again. ‘She is persistent.’

He typed, ‘Trying to find you.’

She responded. “No surprise. Makes me wonder… Tryin’ hard? Or hardly tryin?”

She texted him directions and he located the wedding planner’s office. Rolling out of the car, he straightened his clothes as well as possible and entered.

Winsome clucked, “Did you sleep in your clothes?” She turned to Saffron, the wedding planner. “What did I tell you?”

Archer stifled a yawn. “So, this is it? Everyone we know has to drive across the state for our wedding?”

“You don’t have to invite so many. Or anyone. More cake for us.”

Saffron grinned and nodded.

Archer said, “So, why am I here, again?”

“Write a check and sign the contract. The wedding. Remember?”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that. Then you can go.”

“I forgot a pen.”

“You always amaze me. You’re a writer and can’t keep a pen? You lost the pen I gave you?”

“No. That’s home. Safe in a drawer.”

Winsome said, “You’re lucky I put up with you and all your nonsense…”

Saffron said, “I have one.” She picked one up from her desk and offered it to Archer.

He checked his pockets and found the one Evangeline had given him at the café.

‘It’s real. I didn’t dream it. Got to find the roundabout, the tunnel of trees. Go back.’

“So, you have a pen after all. I swear...”

Archer smiled in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I need to transfer funds. Didn’t get to it yesterday.”

“You’re kidding… We’re here. You were off someplace yesterday. Why don’t you get it together?” To Saffron she said, “Let’s reschedule. Tomorrow?”

They nodded to each other.

Archer said, “I’m sorry, I realize I can’t make it.”

“When can you?”

“Never.”

Dumbfounded, Winsome stared at the Saffron. Their heads wagged slowly, in unison.

He said, “I understand why you might be upset. But this doesn’t work for me.”

He stood and walked to the door.

Winsome said, “Arch, you walk out, you’ll never see me again.”

Archer sighed. “For once we agree on something. Take care, Winnie. I wish you only happiness.”

He shut the door behind himself.

Stepping into the sunshine he felt as if he were floating. He walked to his car.

‘Retrace my route… Get back on the highway. Find that roundabout. I can do this.’

He looked at the pen Evangeline gave him. He entered the address in his phone’s map quest. A map displayed guiding him from his current location to Paradise.

“Easy peasy!”

He started the car and wheeled around the way he came.