Otter Lake Part 6

    Travis was sure they should talk about something, but for one reason or other they didn’t. Clouds floated through the sky. Every five minutes or so a car would pass or a dog cross the street or a person briefly appear.

    “And we are here because…?” asked Günter breaking the silence.
     Travis didn’t have a clue. The world had gotten too noisy and this place was quiet. It was just that simple.
     “I’m working on it,” he said.
     “Is this an extended visit?” Günter asked.
     “Yes,” answered Travis, just then deciding. “I believe it is. 
 And you?”
     “Of course,” Günter answered as though it was a foolish question.
     A line of gray swept over the sun and the world suddenly felt less hopeful. They drove back to Candy’s to get out of the cold.
     “What now,” Günter asked?
     “What now, what now,” Travis repeated more as a statement than a question.
     The two men had a history. It was an odd partnership in which neither man acknowledged anything but that they occasionally worked together. They were brothers in the best sense and strangers in a way that did not seem important. But their collaborations were usually of a structured nature and this was breaking new ground.
     Travis needed clarity. Otter Lake, this place was so simple. It was a small group of buildings by the side of a lake. If your primary activities were eating, drinking, camping or fishing, then this was heaven. He entertained the thought.
     He had wandered for months in Michigan’s northern regions. A motel here, a camp ground there, sleeping in his car when he had to, all the time becoming a little more unraveled. His head was like a Geiger counter and his travels had become sweeps looking for the place with the least clicks.
     "Have more coffee” Gunter suggested to Travis in a polite order. Travis looked over at his friend. He realized his lack of direction was now official and obediently went back into the Cafe`.  Candy looked surprised to see him.
     “Didn’t you just leave?” she asked pouring another cup.
     “Small town,” he replied.
     “I noticed that too,” Candy said like it was a new idea they had both just discovered.  Her smile was appealing. 
     They both laughed.  Her laugh was appealing.
     Thirty minutes later Günter returned. He held out a set of small cheap looking keys. Travis’s Olds followed Gunter’s car through the gates of the closed lake side park that made up the west side of town. About a hundred yards up a dirt road, they stopped in front of one of a scattered group of round toped silver trailers. It was so weathered that the aluminum skin had lost its sheen and was now a flat, light gray.
     Although the two men seemed so different, they packed like twins, each carrying in a single compact bag which was set on the trailer’s worn beige carpet. Günter lit the wall furnace and went back to his BMW only to return with two coffees. They sat in tall captain chairs at an improvised plywood counter extension.
     To Travis’s unspoken question, Günter answered, “It was on the board at Tiny’s Party Stop. Two fifty a month plus utilities and an exit propane fill up. Quite a bargain, don’t you think?”
     “Maybe," Travis answered.
     “Good coffee?” asked Günter holding up his paper cup.
     “No” said Travis.