A Pizza Party

As the train pulls away from Anchor Rock, those gathered at the station look to one another. Those who remain. Locals and transfers, lives that have become interwoven over six short days, or, for some, over lifetimes. Threads that connect them and threads that tie them to our small town, a home, their home, at least for one more night.

Of course, Pepper’s farewell pizza party had been intended as a private affair, but everyone is gathered already. Besides, you can’t mention something like that to Deanna if you don’t want the whole town to come.

The house barely fits them all. As people bustle, close-pressed, the absence of those, now hours down the train-tracks, is not so raw. Still present, of course, but blanketed, comforted by those who remain. Conversation comes easily, intertwined with Cody’s playlist of what can only be described as dad rock. The house fills with sound, laughter and guitar: there is much to celebrate, and much to discuss.

And soon, it also fills with the smell of garlic! Whilst most of the house paints a picture of a pleasant party, the kitchen reveals a vastly different scene. Not because of anything tragic or melancholic, no. The situation in the kitchen is caused, as many of Anchor Rock’s more tumultuous moments are, by the elderly. Oleman Young and Mr Bloom have both developed a taste for the culinary arts in recent days and assist Pepper with a passion that he simply cannot refuse. Pepper may have the recipe and, as Deanna and Cody try quite desperately to tell the old men, knows what he is doing, but he clearly lacks their vision. Bloom is talked down easily enough, only really concerned about the presence of a courgette (as is often the case with him), and retreats to a corner, content to cut vegetables with Gerald (as is also, often the case with him). Oleman however–(need I say more?) The sauce of a pizza, as we all know, consists primarily of carrots. This is the main ingredient. Oleman even brought some with him, just in case. It takes Tyler asking a frankly bizarre number of bear-oriented (forgive me, my mistake, John Dory-oriented) questions to distract him long enough for the sauce to be made appropriately tomato-based. Wait. A new contender appears for the battle of the bread. Astrid may not be an old man, but she has the same vision as them. For the most part, her presence is unproblematic: shaping the dough into a wolf doesn’t fundamentally alter it. Then again, she does top it with pineapple (“it’s like stars”). Take that as you will.

Despite the… eclectic choice of toppings, the pizza emerges intact! Delicious even! It tastes, honestly, perfect. Maybe that’s the bias of the evening, but everyone seems to like it. Especially OJ: pizza was a food that he’d missed since leaving NNYC, and he introduces it eagerly to Saf. Everyone takes a slice, just like that first day in the town square once again.

While Cody is distracted by the prospect of pizza, Enara manages to wrestle a more dignified song choice into the playlist, and perhaps it is with the underpinnings of her classical interlude, that the stories begin to flow.

Old stories, tales of the town, familiar to the locals, but made anew by the listening of the transfers. The kind rendered legendary by word of mouth over generations. Nella, in her quiet, high voice, does her best to explain the story of the Anchor Rock (now property of Alex Alderman), despite being battered by near constant interruptions from–well, everyone–with new, contradictory details. Quinn may be the person best equipped to provide a genuine explanation, considering they care for the town records in the library, but no, their comments are caught up in the whirlwind of bickering. Ah, maybe it doesn’t need an official origin story, the rock has history enough regardless.

And new stories, tales of the people made new in the last week. Hal recounts his experience, the shepherd crook held lightly in its hands, a contrast to the wire belt and city slang, but somehow right, somehow natural. Across the house, the stories of new love are shared, for some alongside blushing, others quiet touch and others still raucous noise. Faolán and Rider are one such couple: the speaking falls mostly to Faolán, words are, after all, his realm, and these words are spoken with the grounded tone of honesty, sharing stories rather than storytelling. All the while his hand is held by Rider, who brushes along his fingers, fidgeting, soft, as if unused to being still, to not putting his paint-stained hands to work (but finally, here, given reason to). In these stories, the house returns again to those aboard the train, to what they brought to this town, to what they left. There is an empty space without them, of course there is, but that isn’t all sad. The stories are filled with laughter as much as anything. And so the night goes on–

In the morning, hand-in-hand, Pepper and Cody will pack up, take a drive to NNYC (and wherever else their truck will take them). For them, there are adventures yet to go on. For tonight, the company, the stories, the comfort of home is enough. Perhaps both are. Whether they choose to leave or stay, this place has altered them. No matter how far the residents go (local or otherwise), they will always be anchored here.

This place will always be a part of them.