The line is always long enough to give anyone enough time with Choice because Whitey's is a popular place in the summertime. The July air hangs heavy in the night, a lingering reminder of the day's long journey and an unforgiving darkness offers no comfort from the air's clammy grasp. Sweet relief can be found stepping into the welcoming chill of an air-conditioned ice cream parlor and dozens heed its beckoning call, standing in a sloppy line as it slowly snakes through the store. Children swing impatiently from the red belted dividers as the busy whir of the blender provides a taunting soundtrack to the unbearable wait. An old man rests in one of the white plastic lawn chairs lining the back wall, relinquishing the sticky seat as the line moves forward.
Choice can be an intoxicating friend when I’m standing at the end of the line. She holds my hand tightly as I swing her arm back and forth. “One scoop of Mississip, no, Mint Chocolate Chip in a sugar cone,” I decide, albeit uncertainly. She knows her power holds me precariously as she watches my eyes dance across the menu, the many offerings calling out like a siren's song. “You’ve never had a Dusty Road before,” she reminds me in a sing-song voice. “And remember, Whitey’s is famous for its upside-down shakes and malts.” She excitedly points out a new flavor since last time I visited and the promise of a Key Lime shake sends shivers of delight down my spine. “I really shouldn’t,” I begin, quickly changing my mind again, “I’m on a diet and . . ..” Choice laughs out loud, brushing off my silly excuse and whispers in my ear, “I hear the Very Cherry smoothie is to die for." But I don’t hear her because Mint Chocolate Chip and Mississippi Mud are still waging a double fronted battle with my expectant taste buds. The line is getting shorter and Decision stands with his arms folded across his chest next to a bow-tied soda jerk who is waiting for me to let go of Choice’s hand.
“Welcome to Whitey’s, what can I get you?” the young man in the impossibly clean white shirt asks with a smile. Decision steps closer to me as Choice relaxes her grip. “A two dip chocolate Brownie Under with a cherry on top please.” Decision smiles, he knows me well and isn’t surprised by my betrayal of Choice. Choice shakes her head disappointingly. She turns, walks to the end of the line, and reaches out her hand to a recent arrival. I want to follow her but am stopped by the young man as he hands me a cold waxy cup. I pay the price and Decision’s familiar arm leads me gently to the door. I turn my head and for a second I catch Choice’s eye. “Maybe next time,” I whisper, hoping to restore her faith in our fragile friendship. She ignores my attempt at reconciliation and instead points out the Key Lime shake to her new companion. I look up into Decision’s eyes, searching for acceptance. He leans down and whispers in my ear. I can't help but giggle at the absurdity of his suggestion. My gaze falls on the delicacy in my hand and with a contented sigh I begin the happy search for the brownie at the bottom of the cup. The door opens and I walk willingly into the familiar feeling of an Iowa summer night.
