serial fiction

Delroy and the Cheese — Part Thirteen

The group compares notes in a bar — Susan makes a friend

This is the thirteenth chapter of an 18 chapter series about life in a Canadian tree-planting camp. If you’re new, you may want to start at the beginning or go to the complete list of Delroy and the Cheese chapters.

Later, at Dan’s pub, I told the girls about my forty-dollar pizza and my plan to ask Mario about the cheese on his Quattro Formaggio. I wasn’t optimistic, though. I already knew that one of the cheeses was Mozzarella. And I was pretty sure the streaky cheese was some kind of blue cheese — It definitely wasn’t pecorino, whatever it was. That left just two possibilities. Neither of which I thought was right, but I couldn’t completely rule them out without talking to Mario.

The girls also hadn’t had much success. Susan didn’t find any pecorino at the A & W, but she did find a Mozza burger and a root beer in a frosted mug, both of which she said were delicious. She argued that if we brought Delroy back a Mozza burger that should be at least as good as a wedge of pecorino. Andrea, being vegan, saw the cheese as several orders of magnitude less evil than a fast food burger. And I pointed out that a burger would not last very long in Delroy’s pocket, particularly when he was planting a thousand trees a day in a cut-block.

Andrea had chatted up with one of the managers at the supermarket, and he had told her about a new health food store in town. They didn’t have any pecorino but they did have all kinds of vegan treats she was very excited about. She had brought us each a pumpkin cupcake from the health food store. They were now sitting in front of us each on a little napkin. We were sitting in a booth at Dan’s sharing a pitcher of beer. I’d had my forty-dollar pizza. Susan had eaten her Mozza Meal, and Andrea had gorged herself on various vegan treats at the health food store. The cupcakes made a nice light dessert and they went surprisingly well with the beer.

“So now what?” asked Andrea. “Any ideas?”

“We could rent a movie,” said Susan.

“I meant about finding Delroy’s cheese.”

“Oh.”

“We need to come up with a plan,” said Andrea. “I‘m not ready to go back to the city. I like this job.”

I felt the same way. I hadn’t made anywhere near as much money as I’d wanted to and all that was waiting for me back in the city was Janet Lane Pearson and a bunch of people who used to be our friends. Some of them might still be our friends. But some of them were probably now just her friends and some were probably now just my friends.

I was pretty sure whoever I ran into would want to chat about our breakup and that was something I really didn’t want to talk about. That teardrops-in-my-beer night with Leonard was enough for me. I was done with sympathy and judgment. I’d much rather stay here, be driven slightly crazy by Delroy, and hopefully share another shower with Andrea someday.

“Maybe someone here can help,” said Susan. She picked up her beer and headed to the bar. “Hey there,” she said to a guy standing on his own. He was about 30, wearing dusty work clothes with safety-toe boots. “I’m Susan. Know where we can score some good cheese around here?”

It was an odd question, but the guy’s philosophy was that any conversational gambit from a girl in a bar was worth responding to. He gestured towards himself with his beer glass. A bit of foam sloshed onto his chest. He flicked the foam off his shirt onto the floor with his free hand and then held it out for Susan to shake.

“I’m Dennis,” he said.

Susan didn’t shake his hand but just gave him a little wave instead.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Not sure what you mean by cheese,” he said. “Is it another word for shrooms? I know a guy who could get you some of those.”

“No,” she said. “When I say cheese, I just mean cheese. Fancy cheese, though. Italian cheese. We want to get some as a gift for a friend.”

“I’m guessing you tried the grocery store already?”

“Yup. We’ve tried everywhere, obviously. You sure there isn’t a deli or a fromagerie or something? Or maybe you know someone who is really into cheese? Maybe collects it or something?”

Dennis laughed. “A cheese collector? Who the Hell collects cheese?”

“You never know,” said Susan. “People collect all kinds of things. My Dad collects license plates. He’s got them nailed up all over the walls of our garage.”

“Well, that I can understand,” he said. “License plates are cool. And a license plate won’t go moldy on you like a piece of cheese will. I’ve got a polar bear plate myself. Registered my truck in Hay River just to get one.”

“Yep. Agreed. Polar bear plates are cool. It’s too bad they don’t make moose plates or beaver plates. Every province should have an animal-shaped plate.” said Susan.

“Saskatchewan could have bison-shaped plates,” said Dennis.

“BC could have orca-shaped plates,” said Susan.

“What would Prince Edward Island have?”

“Potato-shaped plates?” suggested Susan. She drained her beer. “Thanks for talking to me.” She looked around the bar. “You sure you don’t know anyone who knows about cheese?”

“Well, I could ask around, I suppose. Maybe you could give me your number?” Dennis said. “I could call you if I find anything out.”

Susan shook her head. “I don’t really have a number. We’re staying in camp mostly.” Dennis sagged a little. She paused. “But, hey, maybe you could give me yours?”

“Sure! That’d be great!” He took a pen from his pocket and scrawled his name and number on a beer mat.

Susan took the beer mat and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Thanks,” she said.

Next Chapter…

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