Ellen met Tom at Holton High School where both were small town teens exploring life in the backseats of old Chevys and the hay loft on the family farm. In the town of Holton, the highlight of life was the school prom, who would win the football game, and whether or not college was an option. For most it was going to work after graduation or drifting away to a nearby city for a job in a factory. There were the exceptions. Very few had the courage to break away from tradition and brave the world well beyond the silos, past the steel and paper mills, driving through nondescript towns and bustling cities to eventually making it into a world that only the privileged knew.
Tom had been one of those few who had escaped the cycle of small town life and managed to become an executive at a law firm in New York where he had made a name for himself. Along with that came the trophy wife, two children, a boy and a girl, and the never ending climb up the ladder to becoming an icon in his field. There was the mansion on the hill, the Mercedes, the parties, and then the devastating divorce that left Tom to evaluate his life and face the illusion that he thought would bring him happiness. That was why he was back in Holton aimlessly walking the sidewalk to a small cafΓ© at the end of town. The Corner CafΓ© was still the same as when he left as if caught in a time warp with its checkered table cloths and wood paneling that had darkened over the years from the oil and grease from cooking on a grill. It smelled like home. The scent of home fries, bacon, and eggs filled the room with an air of nostalgia that made him smile.
Back then he was a strapping young man with bright blue eyes, hay colored hair bleached by the sun, re blue jeans, plaid shirts and sported a farmer's tan. He was all of twenty one when he left to discover the world and now thirty years later, his eyes had somewhat dulled, his hair flecked with grey, and his exuberance for life was now that of an old car that had lost its shine.
A waitress who looked as if she had been working at the cafΓ© too long handed him a menu with the corners worn from being handled too much. Scanning the entrΓ©es, he ordered the blue plate special and waited patiently with a cup of coffee in front of him. Outside he could see the skies darken and the few townspeople that were walking along the sidewalk began to hurry on their way either into stores or to their cars before the rain began to fall. The rain started lightly at first then into a steady stream of water that danced when it hit the street in a syncopated rhythm like tiny dancers in a chorus line. It was late in the afternoon and most diners had left the cafΓ©. By the time he had finished his meal the day was done and night was creeping in like an intruder. Although it didn't stop the rain and from what the waitress had mentioned to the cook earlier, it would continue all night. It didn't matter to Tom. He had no place special to go except the bed and breakfast where he had rented a room. So he was contented to sit at the small table with the checkered tablecloth near the window and watch it rain feeling somehow comforted by the storm.
Several minutes later, a woman ran up the sidewalk with an umbrella over her head in a vain attempt to shield herself from the rain. She stopped under the eave in front of the cafΓ© door, shook loose the water droplets from the umbrella and closed it before entering the cafΓ© flustered, but none the less for wear. She hurried past the counter to a table at the far end of the diner and sat down with a sigh glad to be out of the storm. Tom watched as the waitress recognizing the woman immediately brought her a cup of coffee, asked if she wanted the usual and then left. The woman pushed the back the grey wisps of hair from her forehead and settled into her chair. She was older like Tom, but her skin was still smooth, her eyes a deep chocolate brown and when she smiled her face lit up like an angel from heaven. Tom tried not to stare, but the woman had drawn him into her and he recognized her from all those years ago. His heart skipped a beat when he called her by name.
"Ellen?" he said so low that he thought she didn't hear him.
The woman quizzically looked up and turned her head. Tom felt his heart jump when he saw the beautiful woman whom he had known so long ago looking back at him. Her mouth opened in surprise and when she smiled Tom knew it was her.
"Why Tom," she began. "How long has it been?"
Tom returned her smile and shook his head, "Well over thirty years I guess. Time's been good to you Ellen."
The woman blushed and pushed back the grey wisps of hair again that had fallen precariously over one eye. She didn't answer at first, but bit her lip making Tom wonder if he had done the right thing in recognizing her.
"A lot of things have happened," she began.
"Yes, a whole lifetime has happened," he agreed. "Why don't you sit over here by the window with me so we don't have to shout," Tom smiled hoping she would take him up on his offer.
"Well I don't want to impose," Ellen said coyly.
"No bother. Or I can come to you," he suggested.
"No, it's all right. I'll come over there and we can watch it rain together," she answered.
Tom held the chair out for her as Ellen sat down and for several moments they just looked at each other. There were the age lines, the greying of hair, the bodies not quite as trim as they used to be, but neither saw that. Each saw the other as they were all those years ago when they were young and had their entire lives ahead of them. Tom and Ellen knew time had passed, but the gentle yearning for each other that had filled them back then was still as fresh as if it were yesterday. The desire was still there and the attraction that had driven them crazy enough to seek out the back seat of Tom's Ford to satiate the need was turning back the hands of time and it felt good to feel alive again.
He told her of his accomplishments, the kids, the inevitable divorce and the return to Holton to hopefully heal. She told him of her marriage of twenty five years ending when her husband had a heart attack while plowing a field on his tractor. She spoke of her three children who now grown had decided to leave Holton and try their luck on their own by either going to college or in the case of her daughter marrying a man from a nearby town. She told him of her mother being put in a nursing home because of dementia and Ellen afraid for her well-being. It was the nursing home where she had been when she stopped at the cafΓ© for a bite to eat before heading home. It was all there. The stories, the timelines, the differences and the similarities between them. Tom watched as she ate her dinner and he had another cup of coffee. It was getting late and the waitress brought the check letting both know the diner would close shortly. Tom paid the check for both on his insistence and then they sat waiting for the other to say something that wouldn't end the night as quick as it began.
"It's still early," Tom said. "I hate to say goodbye so soon."