The One Less Traveled

All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the story of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy! And take a second to vote and comment.

This story is a little longer than some of my others, and it's a bit slower developing as well. If you're looking for instant action, this might not be the story for you. If you enjoy learning a little about the characters involved, this one should fit that bill.

Three lines from Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" are quoted near the end.

*****

"Wynn, it's a simple line and a simple scene. Could we concentrate just the tiniest little bit and get this one done so we can move on?"

"Yeah, sorry, Simon. Upset stomach and no sleep," Wynn answered, shrugging.

"Wynn, that's your problem. Don't make it my problem. Now belch, or whatever you need to do, and let's get this damn scene done. Alex, take over. I've got stuff to do." Simon rolled his eyes at Wynn and, quite literally, stomped off.

Alex stepped in close. "You okay, Wynn? Are you high on something?"

"No, I'm not high, but I should probably be home in bed." Wynn was usually unperturbable, but he felt himself becoming annoyed.

"Well, get this right, and you can go to bed, but not at home."

Alex was right. He was in Pennsylvania and not California, Ligonier, to be more specific. He had a small house the studio had rented for him -- the owners were snowbirds who wintered in Florida and had left a little early to accommodate the movie people. Hopefully, he'd only need it for three months at most. The house was much smaller than he was used to, but located on a small road away from everything, it gave him privacy he wasn't used to.

Wynn nodded and stared at a wall, seemingly concentrating to ready himself for the short scene that begged to finally be done. Actually, he was upset with himself for stumbling over such simple lines. Memorizing had always been simple and of no concern. That was until he hadn't gotten the part he'd really lobbied for in what the producers said would be a blockbuster hit with multiple sequels. It hadn't been losing the money that grated at him but the explanation he received for losing the part. "Aaron just fits better." Four words that punched a significant hole in his self-image.

"Bastards," he muttered, "and bitch too."

"You say something, Wynn?" Alex asked, annoyance in his voice.

"Just practicing the lines."

"If everyone's ready, let's get this thing finished."

Wynn hit his lines, his acting, as usual, was spot on, and it was a wrap. As had been promised him, Wynn headed to his house for a nap.

Wynn's home in California wasn't a typical Hollywood mansion -- In fact, it wasn't a mansion at all, just a pleasantly large home where he could hide away from the unpleasant side of stardom, which, for him, was most of the flash and publicity that surrounded being at least a mid-level star. Of course, he enjoyed the money and the recognition of a job well done, but his passion was doing the best job possible and hoping it satisfied everyone.

But he wasn't there. He was in Pennsylvania, in a small hollow between large green hills of the Laurel Mountains, which lent itself to peaceful sleeping.

He slept for two hours, then began wondering what he'd do for the next two days. He was single with no girlfriends or other impediments to doing whatever he wanted to do whenever he wanted to do it. He loved roaming, where he was just another person and could experience things in the same way as everyone else did.

On the following day, which was a Thursday, he awoke feeling relaxed and ready for whatever the hours would provide. With nondescript clothing, a knit hat, and sunglasses, he set off.

*****

"Kristin, what are you doing here today?"

"Annie called me, and she sounded terrible, so I hopped on over to fill in." Kristin's radiant smile seemed to light up the entire diner, which could use a few more windows to brighten it up a bit.

"Sorry for Annie. She's a good lady, and I'm sorry she's sick. But you're a good lady too, Kristin, and I'm glad you'll be waitressing me today."

"Jimmy, I heard someone tell you the other day that we're servers and not waitresses anymore."

"What's the difference?"

Kristin laughed. "There's no difference, Jimmy. It's just a big-city thing, you know, and even here in Pennsylvania, we have to stay up to date on using the right words."

"Damn stupid if you ask me," Jimmy answered. "Doesn't change a thing."

"I guess it's important to some people."

Kristin carefully cleaned Jimmy's table.

"Hey, I think I heard somethin' about you, that you might be leavin' us."

"So, you heard I'd be starting to college?"

"That means you're leaving, doesn't it?"

"You can't get rid of me that easily. I'll do some classes online and some in person, but I'll still be working here."

"How's that online stuff work, Kris?"

She eyed him questioningly. "Do you have a computer, Jimmy?"

"Um, naw. Never had one."

"Would you like to have one?"

Jimmy furrowed his brow and looked puzzled.

"Wouldn't do me no good. I don't know how to use it."

"I could teach you. It's not that hard if you really want to learn."

"Kris, why would y'all do that for an old fart like me?"

Kristin laughed. "You may be an old fart, Jimmy, but I like you and enjoy it when you come in, and we talk a little. It would make me happy to help you learn about a computer."

Jimmy smiled, an extra sparkle in his eyes. "I may just take you up on that, Kristin. I just might."

"I'm counting on it."

Jimmy just shook his head, almost not believing what he'd just heard. But, he was thinking he might go into town and look up one of those computer places he'd seen advertised on the TV. He had some money. He decided. Before he did that, he'd check with Kristin first to see if she had some good advice for him.

The diner door swung open, and Woody Hoblyn strode in. "What a surprise. My girl, Kristin, is here today.

Kristin had begun to bristle when Woody came through the door, and his words completed the process. Normally she would snap at him, but that hadn't been working, so she decided to ignore him.

"Honey, come on, be nice to Woody."

Unfortunately, as long as she was on duty, she had to be nice to Woody, at least formally nice.

"Find a seat, Woody, and I'll take your order."

At least with several customers on hand, Woody would be restrained a little. She knew that Jimmy would step up for her if needed, too.

Being nice to Woody didn't mean she couldn't glare at him while she took the order. Woody had annoyed her like this for four years, and she had tired of it. She was fairly certain he was enjoying annoying her, perhaps repaying her for her continual rejection of his romantic overtures.

After she'd delivered Woody's food, Jimmy grabbed her arm.

"I think you got a customer that sneaked in while we were talking."

"Thanks, Jimmy," she said, patting his shoulder and heading to the far side of the diner.

"Hi there. Can I get you something to drink to start you off?"

The new customer had on a long-sleeve shirt, unusual for the still warm autumn day, a knit hat which was even more unusual, and sunglasses. Kristin didn't recognize him, but customers, new or old, were what kept them in business.

"I like the old wood floor," he said. "It creaked when I walked to the table."

Kristin chuckled. "I'm so used to it, I don't hear the noises any more."

He smiled. "Don't suppose you have wine," he answered, glancing around the room.

"I'm sorry, no, we don't. We do have beer."

"Any craft beers?"

"I'm not doing very well here," Kristin laughed. "Just the regular domestic stuff, Bud, Coors, Miller, you know."

"Coors Lite?"

"We do have that," Kristin answered, sounding almost relieved.

"Good. Draft or in cans?"

"Just cans. Beer isn't our specialty here, and we've just started serving it."

"If you have a glass, I'll take one."

"I actually have a mug, but it's not frosty or chilled, if that's okay."

"Perfect. I've read that those frosty mugs ruin regular beer."

"No kidding?" She chuckled again. "I'll remember that in case people ask why we don't have them."

She returned with the beer and a menu.

"Do you need a while?" she asked.

"Breakfast sounds good, but if I'm drinking beer, I should at least be having lunch, right?"

"We have both," she replied, having wondered about the morning beer drinking.

"Come back in a few minutes, please," the stranger said abruptly.

Kristin hurried to the kitchen, glancing back to see him on his phone. She peeked at him through the delivery window until he finally stuffed the phone in a pocket, appearing to glare at nothing in particular before picking up the menu.

She waited another minute, then crossed the room and stood by the table until he acknowledged her.

"I guess I've had enough time, haven't I?" He half-smiled at Kristin. "Are there special things the cook makes that aren't on the menu?"

Kristin gestured to a blackboard hanging above the cash register. "Lloyd's specials," she announced.

"Sorry, I'm not used to, well, neat little places like this. But meatloaf sounds good...with whatever goes with it."

"You can pick sides from the list, there." She pointed to a section of the menu.

"I trust you to pick them," he answered, handing her the menu.

"You sure?" she asked incredulously, not used to making choices like that.

He looked straight at her, and she could see herself reflected in the silvery lenses of his sunglasses, distorted ever so slightly. In that instant, before he looked away, there was something vaguely familiar about his face.

"I'm sure you'll do a better job than I could. You know what's good here."

She walked slowly to the kitchen, puzzled and wondering.

"Who's the new guy out there?" Lloyd, the owner and cook, asked when Kristin returned to the kitchen.

"Dunno," she answered. "Can't see much of him, but here's the order. He wants the meatloaf but asked me to pick the sides."

"That's odd."

"Yeah. He's different but friendly. What sides do you have ready?"

"Pretty standard stuff. Mashed potatoes are ready, and I've fixed some of the country-style green beans. I'll heat some rolls, and that should be good."

Kristin returned to the dining room to take care of a couple of other customers. It was about 10:30, the slow time after the breakfast bunch left, and the noon crowd wasn't there yet.

She finished refilling coffee cups, dropped the pot off on the Bunn auxiliary heater, then headed for the stranger again.

"Your lunch should be here soon with mashed potatoes, green beans, and rolls."

"Works for me."

"Listen, I don't want to bother you, but when we have a new customer, I like to stop by and give them a special welcome and invite them to come back and see us again."

"I expect to be wandering around the area, so I might stop back," he answered, looking at Kristin once again, making her wish he'd take off the hat and sunglasses so she could see him more clearly. She decided that he probably didn't want to be recognized for some reason, but maybe next time, she'd be more fortunate.

"I think Lloyd's meatloaf will make you want to come back," she said, laughing.

"Hoping so. I'm hungry since I missed breakfast today."

"Let me check on your food." Kristin hurried to the kitchen and returned with a tray of food, carefully putting the separate items in front of the stranger. "I hope I can get a review when you're finished."

He nodded his assent as he took the first bite.

"And do you have a name that I can call you?"

He stopped chewing and looked at Kristin once again. "What's yours?"

"Kristin."

"Just call me Hey You."

She chuckled. "I can't do that."

"Please do, and if I come back again, maybe you'll learn more."

"Hey You, huh? I'll try."

"And, based on one bite, this is good." He paused, a little smile on his face. "And I'm not used to eating in small places like this, either."

"Super," Kristin replied and headed to the kitchen again. "He likes the meatloaf," she told Lloyd.

"Different looking guy than we usually see here. Motorcycle?"

"I didn't see, but it was a quiet one if that's how he got here."

"Better check on him."

Kristen discovered that a familiar older couple had come in for an early lunch. She greeted them, took their order, and passed it on to Lloyd. She returned to Hey You's table.

"You were right; it's delicious. My compliments to, was it Lloyd?"

"Sure is, and he'll be happy to hear it."

"Before you run off, do you work here all the time?"

"Pretty much...for right now."

"I heard a hesitation there."

"Yeah, planning to start college this fall."

"Big step. What will you be studying?"

"I don't know for sure, but I'm leaning toward nursing."

"That's kind of a tough field these days."

"I may have to live and learn, but that's where I'm headed."

"May I be nosey?" he asked quietly.

"Maybe," she said, grinning at him.

"You don't look or act like you just graduated from high school." His turn to smile, and Kristin was 75% sure she recognized him from somewhere but still couldn't attach a name or place.

"I'm twenty-two," she replied, not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed.

He nibbled on his lower lip before replying. "Been saving your money?"

"You bet, and I finally have enough to get started." Her voice betrayed that she was proud of what she'd done.

"That's quite an accomplishment. And you have some customers," he added, gesturing.

"Thanks, and here's your tab." She hurried away.

Three new orders went to the kitchen, and when she returned to the stranger's table, he was gone, and there was a twenty, a ten, and a five lying on the table. His bill had been twelve ninety-five, so her tip was twenty-two dollars and a nickel. She was more used to a twenty percent tip, not two-hundred percent. She knew the specter of the stranger would be close at hand for a while. She hoped he'd reappear one of these days, and not just because of the tip.

*****

Wynn spent Friday at the zoo, once again in Thursday's outfit. He loved animals and would love to eventually have a menagerie of his own. Until he had more time of his own, that wasn't going to happen. Not even a dog.

On Saturday, he dressed a little differently but maintained the hat and sunglasses, not ready to be recognized quite yet, and headed for the little diner. Disappointed that Kristin wasn't there as he'd wanted to talk to her a little more about exactly how she'd been able to focus on working and saving money when she'd wanted to be off to college.

A quick burger, and he was on his way.

Sunday wasn't a pleasant day either, as he was dreading going back to the set on Monday, the first time that had ever happened. He'd just forgotten a couple of lines which the main characters did all the time. Their scenes were just redone with only a few words of encouragement each time. It was like they didn't want to waste time with the undercast and expected them to be perfect every time. When he'd win the contract for the film he had recently auditioned for, he'd no longer be one of the undercast.

He wasn't in a good mood when his cell phone rang but was happy to see that it was his agent.

"Hey, Arnie. I was just sitting here moping, so it's good to hear from you."

"I always hesitate to call on Sunday, but I decided you needed to hear this."

"Good news?"

"Afraid not, for both of us. Rise Productions was very complimentary about your audition..."

Wynn was certainly perceptive enough to realize what was coming. "They want someone else?"

"Yeah, no specifics or reasons. Just thanks but no thanks.

Wynn was quiet for a moment. "Well, shit. Anything else in the works?"

"Got a couple of calls out but haven't heard anything yet. I'll keep in touch."

"Please do, and thanks, Arnie."

"Well, shit," he said again. Unless Arnie came up with something, and quickly, Wynn knew he'd have a big block of empty time as winter approached, not what he'd been planning.

He thought he knew what had happened. He was twenty-eight and had expected to have leading roles by this time in his career. It hadn't happened, and being good at what he did was no longer enough. His name was never anywhere but in the credits, and he avoided any publicity, treasuring his privacy. The top stars could get away with it, and it created speculation and scores of snoopers working to dig out any information, and lots of publicity which the studios loved and sometimes created.

Wynn's love of privacy only caused him to be overlooked and ignored.

He'd debated about changing, but that always caused him to evaluate his life and what he wanted from it, which was usually like getting trapped in a traffic circle and going round and round.

His phone buzzing pulled him out of the circle.

"Good afternoon, Alex."

"Not really, Wynn. Some of us work on Sunday."

Wynn rolled his eyes. In the last few years, he'd worked many Sundays. Alex's arrogance was often tiresome.

He stayed silent, waiting for Alex to drone on.

"Anyway, things didn't go well on Thursday and Friday. So, we need to get that and another few things cleaned up."

"And?"

"Brush up on your lines, and I'll see you next Monday." Wynn started to reply but realized the line was dead. Asshole, he thought.

He shrugged as he stuffed the phone in his pocket. More wandering was in order since he had no other plans.

***

On Monday, Wynn began his wandering and eventually found himself back at the small diner, smiling when he saw Kristin smiling back at him.

"You did come back," she said. "No meatloaf today, but plenty of beer."

"Oh, lord, now I'm known as the beer-in-the-morning guy."

Kristin looked chagrined, afraid she'd said the wrong thing.

Wynn saw the look and laughed. "I'd had a bad day, actually the day before." He cupped his hand beside his mouth. "I usually don't drink beer in the morning."

"I'm so sorry--"

She was shocked when he put his hand over her mouth.

"No apology required," he said. "And was that too forward?"

"That sounded almost like an apology," she countered, checking her expression in his sunglasses.

"Got me. I'll need to leave a bigger tip today."

"Oh my gosh, no. That tip you left the other day was the biggest tip I've ever gotten. Thank you so much."

"Put it in your college fund."

"Somehow, I feel guilty, but thank you."

"Hey, no problem," Hey You said, glancing at the blackboard. "What's chicken fried steak?"

Kristin raised her eyebrows. "What? You've never had chicken fried steak?"

"I'm from California. Is that a regional dish?"

"I think it's a southern thing, but we eat lots of it in Pennsylvania as well." She laughed. "Want to give it a try?"

"So you recommend it?"

"I'm planning to have it for lunch."

"Pretty good endorsement. You did a good job with the sides last time." He smiled.

She started toward the kitchen.

"Kristin," he called after her.

"Yes, sir."

"When you come back, I have a couple of questions for you, okay?"

"Sure. I hope I have answers."

"Fire away," she said after she'd left the order in the kitchen and returned to his table.

"Are you allowed to sit down?"

Kristin glanced over her shoulder at the two tables, each with a pair of seniors talking and drinking coffee.

"Sure, but I may have to jump up once in a while." She sat down across from the mysterious customer, here for the second time.