This is a repost of a story I removed last year for publishing purposes. It was written for someone I know, (you know who you are), and I feel the same now as I did two years ago when I wrote it...
* * *
I had a real bad day.
I mean
real
bad.
I pulled into my driveway and punched the emergency brake, threw open the door and got out of the car. I slammed the door hard, trying to burn off some of my frustration. My dog Jack came running around from the back of the house to greet me as I closed the gate behind me, stopping dead in his tracks when he sensed my mood. He just stood there looking at me, waiting for me to enter the house.
I unlocked the door, tossed my keys on the kitchen table and flopped down on the sofa. Jack jumped up next to me and laid his head on my lap. I started petting him and took several deep breaths. 'I really have to get a new job,' I thought, as I counted to ten a few times and then went to the kitchen to get Jack his dinner. "I'm so stinking glad this is Friday Jack, I need a break from that place," I said, filling his bowl with Dog Chow.
Normally I'd call for pizza on Friday night, but I just didn't feel like eating in. I changed my clothes and walked to the diner down on Main Street.
Rosie's Diner was an old style type. It opened for breakfast at 7:00 and closed after dinner at 8:00. From the outside, it still looked like a diner car from a train. Inside there were about ten booths and, of course, the counter, to eat at. It was crowded this evening. There was only one seat left at the counter. It was the one where the server has to come around the counter to get to the booths that usually meant several interrupted attempts to put food in your mouth. Everyone avoided that seat, but at that moment there was no where else to sit and I just didn't care. I sat in the vacant seat and looked at the menu board on the wall.
Rosie always had some sort of special going on. With her being a devout catholic, tonight's was fish, a slice of pie, and coffee for $5.95. I wasn't in the mood for fish.
"Hey! Gene! Where the hell have you been? I haven't seen you for ages!"
I didn't even have to look. Only two people that ever lived on this planet have a voice like that. One was Ethel Merman and the other was Rosie McCloud. Rosie was the sole proprietor of the diner. She bought it in the 50's with an insurance settlement after her husband's death, and had run it ever since. She was now a very senior citizen, but you'd never know it by looking at her and of course, listening to her thunderous voice. She didn't wait on tables anymore, but she took the orders, and kept everyone up to date on the latest gossip.
"Hi, Rosie. How yah doin'?" I said.
"Great!" she bellowed.
I noticed that the drinks rippled a little on the counter when she answered. She'd make a good Mrs. Tony the Tiger.
"How's the meatloaf tonight?" I asked.
"Why does everybody ask that question? Okay, it sucks. It was made four days ago and has been sitting in the oven ever since, just waitin' for you to walk in. Any other questions?" she asked, as she whacked me on the side of the head with a menu.
"What's new?" I asked, as I ducked from another swing of that menu from her.
She held her hand in front of her, rolled her eyes, and hooked her thumb toward the other end of the counter. I tried to look, without looking like I was tying to look.
There sat an attractive woman that appeared to be 40ish, with long black hair. She wore a black long sleeved shirt and a pair of blue jeans. She didn't seem to be with anyone, and was sipping a mug of coffee, minding her own business.
"Wow, she's pretty. Who is she?" I asked, still looking like I wasn't looking.
"I don't know. She's been in here three nights this week. Never saw her before in my life," said Rosie, much quieter than before.
"You mean she's been here three times and you haven't talked to her? You know your customer's grandkid's animal's names. Don't try to fool me."
"Why don't you find out yourself," she said. "Now, what do you want?"
"I'll have the meatloaf," I replied.
She turned and hollered back into the kitchen, "One four day old meatloaf dinner for Gene!"
A couple of customers dropped their utensils with that sudden explosion of verbiage coming from her. I watched her, (without looking like I was trying to watch her), for over an hour. I had finished eating and was drinking my fifth cup of coffee. The crowd at the counter had thinned to the point that the woman and I were the only two left.
Rosie came over to me and asked, "You're very quiet tonight Gene. You didn't even complain about the meatloaf. What's the matter?"
"I've had a real bad week and today was down right horrible," I said.
"Me too," said the woman at the other end of the counter, under her breath. She didn't look in my direction; instead she just stared off into space. Then I saw a tear fall from her face. I don't think she intended for anyone to hear her.
Rosie gave me the 'go talk to her!' look. I gave her the 'what am I supposed to say?' look. She took a menu and hit me over the head. I took her advice and moved to the seat next to her. Another tear hit the counter.
"HI, I'm Gene. Are you alright?"
She stared a moment more, then wiped her face with a napkin. "I'm Natalie. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to overhear you. I'm sorry that you've had such a bad week," she said, as another tear hit the counter. She hadn't looked at me yet. She was staring at her coffee cup.
I looked back at Rosie and gave her the 'what do I do now?' look. She answered by moving her fingers like a sock puppet's mouth, indicating that I should talk to her.
"Ah, Natalie, that's a nice name. Ah, are you new in town?" I asked, looking back at Rosie for ideas. She shrugged her shoulders.
"Yes," she said, in a small voice. Another tear hit the counter. "Excuse me," she said, as she got up and went to the ladies room.
"She's done the same thing the last two nights she's been here. She sits alone, orders dinner and then sits and cries," said Rosie. "That was the first time I heard her say anything other than what she wanted off the menu."
Natalie came back out of the ladies room and sat back down on her stool. She looked at me for the first time. "Sorry. My week was bad as well."
"Tell me," I said.
"No, it's not your problem."
"Sometimes it helps if you talk to someone. Even if you don't know them," I said, in a low tone. She looked at her hands and began to speak.
"I moved here last weekend after transferring my job from Jersey. I was seeing a man that I had met at work. He lived here and worked in the Philly office. I would see him when he traveled to the Jersey office, maybe once every two weeks. We had a fling. I was flattered because he was 20 years younger than me. It was against company rules, but we did it anyway. I wanted him to transfer to the Jersey office, but he said he would have to take a pay cut to do it. So, I surprised him this week, by transferring here. When he saw me in the office, he almost fainted. It seems he forgot to tell me one small detail about himself." She closed her eyes. "He's married. Now, I have a new apartment and no job. I got fired today for fraternizing, all because I was stupid, and moved here for a married man," she said, shaking her head.
"Well, how were you supposed to know?' I asked.
"I just should have. All the signs were there, I just ignored them," she said.
"Do you have a year's lease?" I asked, trying to get her to look at me.
"No. It's month to month."