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The Come Back

Chapter One

Pelle's whole body shivered as she stood out in the snow waiting for her ride to come. She should have known that the snow would delay the man for more than ten minutes; her mother was going to be, or already was, furious. Contrary to her prior belief, the light emitted by the neon diner lights brought no warmth to the winter night. However, the diner windows were fogged up from the contrast of temperatures outside and inside. Her sensitive skin began to itch with the chill of the night air; Detroit really was different from New Orleans. And, as she thought this, memories of her hometown came back to her strong enough to seem almost tangible.

The colorful shops and lounges, the festivals and houses, all right there in front of her and they all slowly faded right in front of her eyes, blotted out by the headlights of a car. The car stopped and parked in front of the diner and four men emerged from it. She got a nice look at them as they ventured past her and into the diner. Two white, two black, on looked tiny and frail, another very handsome, the third look like a family man, and the last seemed a little grim and rugged. She glanced at them as they trudged past her and through the snow. The tiny bell on the diner door rang as the entered, and it's friendly ringing seemed to beckon her inside. She took another look down either side of the street before turning and pacing, shivering, into the warmth of the diner.

When the glass door closed behind her, it was like she had stepped into another world. It was warm compared to the snow, there was low music instead of wind, and there were people sitting around, talking in lowered voices. She took a seat in a booth in the middle of the row, not to close to the door, but not too far, she was sure the ride would be here soon. A blonde, petite waitress bounced over to her table and asked her for her order. "Um," Pelle hesitated, "I...It's okay, I won't be here for long. I was just coming in to get out of the cold." The waitress nodded and turned to walk away, when a voice floated over from the next table.

"You'll warm up faster if you drink something hot," it was a shorter, fatter waitress who was taking the four mens' orders and talking to Pelle at once, she was a good multi-tasker. Pelle looked at the woman, opening and closing her mouth a few times as if to say something but she couldn't think of any objections. She sat her tot bag up onto the table and dug through it before retrieving her coin purse. She picked through it's contents and fished out a five dollar bill, handing it to the blonde waitress with a polite smile.

"I suppose I'll have a cup of hot chocolate," she said, in her small voice, "If it's not too much trouble." The blonde took the bill and, returning the smile, she turned on her heel and ventured back behind the counter. Pelle closed her coin purse and dropped it back into her tot bag. She glanced up and saw the waitress and the four men staring intently at her and withdrew her eyes in slight horror. What could they have been looking at? Had she done something wrong? She glanced back up and met their stares, "Hello."

"Not from around here, are you," the waitress said, her voice was smug, but remained friendly. Before Pelle could answer, she went back to taking the mens' orders. The blonde waitress returned, enthusiastically, with Pelle's hot chocolate and her change. Pelle accepted the hot drink with an appreciative nod and shook her head when the waitress attempted to give her her change, accepting only her receipt in return. "Honey," came the voice again, "You gonna answer me or not?"

"Oh," she said softly, "I'm sorry. Um, I lived her when I was little, but I moved to New Orleans ans I've been there most of my life. So, no, I suppose I don't count as being from around here." She lowered her eyes and sipped the hot chocolate and remained this way until the cup was 1/4 full and the contents of it had grown cooler. Pelle's phone rang out loudly against the soft noise of the diner and it vibrated against the table from the bottom of her bag. She reached for it as quick as she could and, looking at the illuminated screen, saw that it was her mother. "Hello," she said, answering the call.

The voice on the other end was muffled by the noise in the background, but she could make out that it was her mother. Forgetting that her daughter was coming, she'd decided to take a weekend trip to Las Vegas, which might last longer than a weekend "depending on how I feel". "Yeah, mom it's fine," she spoke into the phone, exhausted, "I'm a grown up now, I can handle myself. You just have a nice time and be safe, will you?" As usual, her mother hung up without saying goodbye, and, as usual, it bother Pelle. She clutched the phone in her hand and let out a long, silent sigh. 'How am I supposed to get home now," she thought.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she spoke to the shorter waitress who looked up at her with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, "What number do I dial to call a cab?" The waitress frowned and shook her head, she explained to Pelle that the cabs had stopped running and, even if they hadn't, it was a dangerous way to get home around these parts. "Well," she said, worried, "Do you know where I can find this address?" Pelle slid out of the booth and sauntered over to the counter, handing the small scripted piece of paper to the waitress.

"That's not too far from here," she said, "Just four block south of here." Pelle nodded her thanks, went back and grabbed her bag and headed out the door and into the snow. She turned back to thank the waitress before the door closed and then began her snowy hike. The snow wasn't still falling which made it easier to see the passing addresses. Sadly, her shoes were thin and not made for walking in the snowl; they soon became soaked and her feet became very cold. "Hey," she heard a voice from behind her in between whistles of wind. She turned back in answer and saw one of the men from the diner, the tiny one.

"Sorry," he said as he approached, "It's dangerous in this neighborhood and I would like to see that you make it home safely." He had already closed the gap between them and was now on the side of her. She walked along with him beside her for quite some time in silence before it became too much for him to bear. "Got any sisters or brothers?"

"Three brothers and two sisters, that I know of," she replied, "Though, it's been awhile since I've seen them." Proceeded to ask her more questions about herself, if not to inform himself, to simply pass the walking time. They were both effective methods, because they became verbally acquainted and the trip seemed to fly right by. "This is your place," he asked as she turned and traveled up the front staircase, "Well, what do y'know. It looks like were are next door neighbors."

Pelle turn to look over her shoulder at him and smiled. "I get the stranger feeling you already knew that," she said. He laughed lightly and stepped back, waving at her. He stopped and gave her a questioning look. "Pelle," she said, already knowing what he was confused about, "And you are?"

"Jack Mercer," he replied, "Goodnight then, Pelle. If you need anything, we're right next door." For some reason, Pelle wasn't sure that was a good thing. But, as she turned to climbed her front steps and unlock and open her door, she couldn't help but feel a little more secure. She glanced back only to see Jack disappear into the house next door, before closing the door behind her.