This night, however, was not typical because heavy clouds had started to roll in during the late afternoon. The small sleepy town of Roswell would roll up the sidewalks around 9:00 p.m. and all decent and respectable citizens were expected to be tucked in their homes at that hour.
James “Jimmy” Emerson was just such a person. He had gotten off work at the usual 5:00 p.m., stopped in at the only pool parlor in town and shot a few rounds with his friends. By 7:00 p.m. he was standing in the kitchen, looking into the refrigerator for something to eat.
His wife, Amy Lou, had gone to Santa Fe to help her sister recover from a gall bladder operation. She had only been gone two days and Jimmy was already tired of fending for himself. He wasn’t a big man but he could put away a fair amount of food at a meal.
He decided to drive back to the mom and pop greasy spoon on Highway 101 to get something to eat. He started up his pickup truck and left a dusty cloud as he took off out of the gate and headed for the highway.
He lived five miles off of the main road as the crow flies, down a mostly sand and gravel road. It was supposed to be all gravel but it was losing the battle to the drifting sands that would cover everything. Mother Nature still held the upper hand and always would.
The neon sign on the café said Ed and Erma’s iner. The ‘D’ had burned out long ago and they never got around to fixing it. He climbed out of the pickup and used his hat to dust off his shirt and pants before entering the café. Ed Morgan sat behind the counter, reading the weekly newspaper. The round black faced clock with pink neon numbers that was visible above his head said 7:18 p.m.
“Erma, come look at what the cat's done drug in,” he yelled to the back kitchen as Jimmy entered.
“Damn, Ed. You sure aren’t getting any better looking. How does a pretty girl like Erma stand to look at your ugly face?”
“Why darlin’, you know how to talk to a lady,” Erma said, coming through the swinging doors.
“I’m still trying to steal you away from that grumpy old fart,” Jimmy said laughing.
“Take her,” Ed said.
Erma slapped him on the back of his head. She was short with dark brown hair and eyes that looked like they were made of milk chocolate. She was obviously a good cook. You could tell by looking at Earl. Erma was pretty hefty too. She had once been a real beauty when she was in High School but time and her own good cooking had taken their toll.
“What?” he said, trying to sound innocent.
“Sit down sweetie and Erma will make you something special,” she said to Jimmy.
Jimmy plopped down on one of the stools and put his elbows on the counter.
“What ya got that's good tonight Erma?” he asked.
“We have Beef Manhattan, red beans and rice, meatloaf and mashed taters and of course our good old burgers. We had ham and beans until Ed polished them off.”
“The Beef Manhattan sounds good. I’ll have that.”
“Be right back sweetie. Sorry, but you’ll have to talk to Ed until I get back,” she said as she disappeared into the kitchen.
The diner had been around since before World War II and it looked it. Booths were situated along the front offering a view from dusty glass windows. The red topped vinyl stools would groan when someone sat down on them and tried to spin around. A pass-thru window separated the kitchen from the back counter where a large coffee machine sat along with an ancient brass cash register. It always said ‘No Sale’ no matter what Ed rang up. A two year old calendar hung on the wall next to the pass-thru.
“So what brings you to our fine dining establishment? Get tossed out on your ear?” Ed asked.
“Nah. Amy Lou is up in Santa Fe helping her sister out,” Jimmy said.
The two men sat, just chatting about what was going on. Each one would try to throw in an insult occasionally, whenever the chance presented itself. They had been friends since elementary school and Ed had actually dated Amy Lou in junior high.
“It’s gonna rain. Look at those clouds,” Ed said, glancing out the window.
“Yep. Kind of strange for this time of year. July isn’t much for rain and that looks like a mean one blowing in."
"Unusual looking clouds,” Jimmy replied.
“It’ll cause flash floods for sure,” Ed predicted, turning the page of his newspaper.
“I suspect it will. When we go this long without rain, it usually does. Probably wash the road to my place away again,” Jimmy lamented.
“Hell, no one wants to come see you anyway. It will give Amy Lou a good excuse for not coming back,” Ed teased.
“Then I would just have to convince Erma to run away with me,” Jimmy joked.
“Honey, that wouldn’t take much convincin’,” Erma said, bringing a plate with mashed potatoes, brown gravy and roast beef, all piled high on two slices of white bread.
“Damn woman, feed me like this and we can leave tonight,” Jimmy said.
“I’ll get her suitcase,” Ed murmured, which prompted another slap to the back of his head. The three of them sat and talked while Jimmy wolfed down his dinner. Thunder rolled across the desert and the sky grew even darker.
