Diner Scene

She slid into the orange booth with the flexibility of gumby.  Sarah the waitress gave her the eye.  In fact, everyone slid an eye at her at some point.  She commanded that kind of attention in her thin ripped jacket and wispy black hair.  And yet there was that air of solidity about her, her having had the strength to live through much.  George, the detective slid an eye over and took in much, discerning if she qualified for “reasonable suspicion”.

Sarah had been waitressing too long and knew it.  Yet the tips came easy and the routine was as comfortable as the well-worn ruts in the linoleum… she tipped up the white diner cup and slapped down the plastic covered menu.  At least Sambo was good at cleaning the grease off.  Sarah’s veined hand slipped into her gingham apron and fished out two creamers.

The young slip-of-a thing tipped the sugar jar into the coffee and looked up at Sarah with an understanding thank you.

“Two eggs, over easy, bacon crispy.”  The young girl spoke without looking at the menu.

“You got it” replied Sarah who had no need to write anything down.  Despite their decades of age difference, the two women understood each other.  Surviving in a hostile world, taking comfort where comfort good be had.

George looked over at the two women and felt agitated, an outsider.  He felt he was always looking for something and never found it.  He’d never been able to connect to any waitress in that way, especially Sarah.  She always felt stand-offish to him.  Was that he who created it… his awkward searching creating the gap?

He turned his attention to his pad of yellow lined paper.  Okay, suspects – 1,2,3… how to test where they are… somehow it helped him to think here in this diner.  Sarah left him alone, only discreetly filling up his coffee cup when it reached ¼ empty.  He hated when they topped it up all the time – upset the balance of cream and sugar.

The young slip-of-a thing looked relieved to be inside, safe.  She shifted in her black hoody, almost relaxing.

Sarah turned back to the counter, wrote the order on a slip of green paper and clipped it to the rotary.  Constantine would prepare it perfectly she knew.  She sent him an appreciative half-smile before turning back to her customers and the street.  It had been one of those bitter days… not cold enough to talk about but still enough to put everyone on edge, as if the other shoe was going to drop.  No one knew what caused the first shoe to drop, but could feel the other was coming soon, and would take you by surprise, no matter how much you prepared for it.

Things were looking up, thought Jasmine, the lithe slip of a thing.  She knew better than to expect too much from Jason, her new-found artist mate, but at least things were moving in a fresh direction, or so she could let herself believe, at least since it was still morning.  Much easier to be hopeful in the morning.  The detective-looking guy in the next booth was kinda edgy and that bothered her somewhat but she was able to put it out of her mind.

Just then Sarah slid the oval plate of eggs, bacon and homefries down in front of her.  She really was hungry and welcomed the accompanying plate of white buttered toast.  Sarah expertly extracted 2 grape jelly packets from yet another apron pocket.  Anything else? She asked… nope shook Jasmine’s head.

Sam 1

The map of how the Gulf filling was up with oil was more than I could stand to look at.  When Katy came by with the coffee, I latched on just for the distraction.

“Looks like the sun will finally make it out today.”  I surprised her.  I wasn’t usually the chatty type, and she’d already turned to the guy two seats down from me.

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” she said, looking back at me while she kept pouring.  Just like she didn’t even really need to see to know where the rim was.  She’d probably refilled more than her fair share.

The teenagers in the corner busted out again then, and we both looked over.  I’m not sure why – it’s not like they were actually interesting.  Their hilarity was contrived -  like somehow it was created more by circumstances than nature.  But I guess it saved us from looking at each other.

The guy next to me stood up, laying a $20 on the counter.  Katy fished out change from her apron, and I swear she didn’t even count before she handed it to him.  Whatever the amount, it seemed to work for him.

Watching him move toward the door, a woman I’d never seen before caught my eye as she paused at the entrance, scanning.  Not too subtle about it either.  I kinda wished I was the one she was looking for, though.  The penetrating quality of her eyes…yeah.  I could get used to that.

I turned back to the paper and saw that ghost Katy had dropped off my check.  But the woman behind me still vibrated in space, warming my back.  Yes, indeed.  I could get used to that.

Carly 1

The teenagers burst out laughing again, and I could feel the twist low down, buried in my abdomen.  It wasn’t likely they were laughing at me, not at all really.  And yet…I almost wished they were.  It was a measure of how unhappy I’d become: I’d rather have the mockery of an audience, laughing and pointing fingers at my plight, than this feeling of sitting here just disappearing.

The trouble was, I had absolutely zero motivation to join in the conversation.  Charlie, Greg, Blackie, and Dan had surrounded me as they gathered their chairs around, taking over three different tables in their usual territorial stakeout.  At breakfast and lunch, the diner was open to other customers only by their good graces.

It could have been worse.  At least these guys tried.  But at best their own efforts to include me confused them, and in Greg’s case at least the resentment lingered and gathered, accumulating around innocuous comments and moments so that nothing was easy.  In my day, it was the diner time that was the work – all the noise and activity of the site was my sustenance.

Derek 1

Thank god – they had wifi.  And it was reasonably fast.  It was one of those kinda old fashioned diners, so I was afraid they wouldn’t.  But Stevo insisted we meet there – said the food was worth it.  Whatever.

I didn’t even know people like this still existed in the world – there was a freaking cowboy in the corner.  Not to mention the gang of construction workers.  I guess I’ve been spending too much time online.  I thought the world was now composed entirely of people who were into World of Warcraft and cloud computing, and 15 year old girls who wanted to have sex with me.  Ha!  Just kidding. 

I linked up while Stevo ordered – like I care that much about food.  I had to check the status of my last comment on the OpenBHD coding problem.  Then, of course, I had to check Facebook to see who else had taken the latest “Which God Are You” survey – that I had created.  10,000 people since last night!  Not bad.

Especially considering the embedded code.

I glanced over. “Hey, geek.  You have coffee on your shirt.”

Madeline 1

I walked in.  It was 6:35, and lots of people were having breakfast – work day.  That’s why I was there.  I was looking for a particular man, who might have information about the Randall case.  I admit, I was hungry, too.

It was one of those seat-yourself diners, so I did.  First I took a good look around the place, to see if there were any guys there who fit the description.  Noticed the cowboy in the corner right away – odd to see a cowboy here.  He looked like the real thing, too, not a Village People clone, dust clinging to his shirt, calloused hands, wrinkled sun-hardened skin, tired eyes.  Not my guy, though.  At least, not my guy for the case.  Then there was the table of rowdy construction workers, all men except for one lone, quiet woman in the middle.  A couple of businessmen in suites – probably salesmen.  Why did I think that?  I don’t know.  But I did.  Then a couple of guys with their laptops open, typing away, sitting at the same table but not even looking at each other.  One spoke; the other smiled.  They didn’t look at each other, didn’t stop typing.  Then a table with one woman, quietly reading the paper and drinking coffee, twisting her wedding ring around her finger.  At the counter, a bunch of guys in suits, all with coffee.  And another table with some teenagers – at least, they looked like teenagers to me.  Might have been older.  Five of them, two guys and three girls, laughing a lot.  They looked like they might have been up all night – eyes a little red-rimmed, their energy just a bit too edgy and high for 6:30.  Well, 6:40 now.

I didn’t see my guy – maybe it was too early for him.  So I chose an empty booth and sat down, pulling out my iPad.