A Nighthaw at the Diner

Monday

Every day is just the same. That was her first thought, after the alarm clock rattled the last bleary shreds of dream from her head. I get up in this bed, I know I have to go to work whether I want to or not, she thought.

It wouldn’t be so bad if she could ever get a decent night’s sleep.

Andrea sighed, a tired sound, and pulled her pillow over her face to shut out the morning light. What would happen, she thought, if I just stayed here all day? Would anyone ever miss me?

With a growl to herself, she pushed the pillow aside and got up to go to work.

Andrea navigated through the tiny apartment by memory, still blinking the sleep from her eyes. By touch, she tugged her oversized T-shirt over her head and let it fall somewhere to be determined later. The chilly apartment immediately raised gooseflesh, and she hurried to the bathroom to shower. The pale green eyes of her reflection blinked blearily back at her from the bathroom mirror, and she became suddenly conscious of her nakedness, and hugged her arms across herself uncomfortably.

She didn’t waste much time showering, although the delicious warmth of the hot water tempted her to. It wasn’t that she was in such a hurry. She didn’t bother to wonder why she was hurrying through her shower, at least not then.

By the time Mandy arrived at the little cubicle where she and Andrea worked, early as always, Andrea was already there, plugging away at her computer. Mandy laughed as she settled into her desk, the mahogany skin of her face almost glowing as she smiled.

“Girl, you’re gonna burn yourself out with all this overtime.”

Andrea looked up and smiled. “Hi, Mandy.”

Mandy clucked her tongue rudely, all the while absent-mindedly tapping at the keyboard to log on. “I’m serious, Andrea. You’re always here when I get here, and you’re always STILL here when I leave. And I spend too much time in here as it is.”

Andrea waved a slender hand in the air as if sweeping the notion away, and went back to work. Mandy, however, could see the cloud that had come over Andrea’s features. “Are you okay?”

Andrea took a long blink and thought about it. “I’m okay, Mandy. I’ve just been having some trouble sleeping. That’s all.”

Mandy’s big brown eyes opened with concern. “You’ve got to sleep, girl. Try working out. It worked for me. Just totally exhaust yourself.”

Andrea smiled and nodded neutrally.

Mandy crossed her arms in front of her and frowned. “I’m serious, girl. You need to do something, or you’re gonna burn out, if you can’t get enough sleep.”

“I know. It’s just that everyone I’ve mentioned it to has some advice. It’s like everyone has been through it. But nothing works for me. It’s been going on for weeks. I get maybe an hour of sleep a night, maybe two. Sometimes, I don’t get any sleep at all.”

Mandy put her concerned face back on. “You should go see a doctor. People suffer from insomnia all the time. I’m sure that there’s something you can do.”

Andrea nodded. “I will, Mandy. I’m okay, don’t worry.”

Mandy smiled and went back to her work.

Andrea hurried over to the coffee machine and hoped that there was some left.

That night was the same as it had been for what seemed like an eternity. In reality, it was only a few dozen nights. Andrea lay on her bed, eyes covered with the eye-shades she had bought at the suggestion of another co-worker. Time ticked by. Her mind was buzzing with activity, trying to piece together some of the problems at work, thinking back to her family, her college days before her graduation six months ago…

And the minutes ticked on. She would lift up a corner of the eye-shades occasionally to peek at the clock. Maybe three or four minutes had passed, each time, since the last time she had checked.

Why can’t I sleep? She wondered…

She pulled off the uncomfortable eye-shades, like she always did. The light of the alarm clock numbers illuminated the entire apartment with enough light to navigate. She had tried covering the clock to darken the room, but then she just lay awake and felt anxiety not knowing what time it was.

Maybe I can just beat my head against the wall until I fall unconscious. No, then the neighbors will just pound on the wall telling me to keep it down. That’s sure to wake me back up.

Andrea got up and paced the apartment restlessly, her long oversized T-shirt falling to just above her knees. It was white, with a worn-down panda on the front, just over her breasts. In the mirror, her body looked shapeless, almost sexless, swathed in the big white shirt. She struck a pose for the mirror, one hand on her hip, cocking her hip to the side and straightening one leg out to rest just her big toe on the floor. She looked like a big white potato with arms and legs, coming on to a john on a street-corner.

She turned on the TV. She turned off the TV.

Eventually, she got dressed and walked out, locking the door.

It was 12:14 am.

Gina’s Diner was two blocks away from Andrea’s apartment. It had an old-fashioned jukebox, and served a really good Rueben sandwich. Best of all, it was open 24 hours.

Andrea had been in the diner a few times before, on her way home from work. It had been bustling with activity each of those times. Right now it was empty. There were several rows of booths, two tables in the middle of the floor, and an old oak bar that served as the counter. The bar looked like it was taken from a nightclub, or, even more, like something out of a saloon in a western movie, scarred and beaten. There was even a big mirror behind it, reflecting the entire diner. There was even a tiny brass bell over the door that jingled as she opened the door and walked in. All that was missing was the collection of bottles of liquor in front of the mirror.

Andrea unhurriedly meandered toward the counter.

The guy behind the bar smiled at her as she walked up. He was average height, she guessed maybe five foot nine, with black hair cut fairly short. He wore an old-fashioned apron over his shirt and tie, and gray Dockers slacks. The apron had a little red emblem on the pocket that said “Gina’s.” A name-plated pinned onto the apron declared him to be “Jeremy.”

“Can I help you?”

Andrea looked over the menu sitting on the counter and fidgeted with her purse strap. “Coffee, please. Uh… Decaf.”

“Decaf? Coming right up.” He hopped into action like a wind-up toy. “Cream? Sugar?”

Andrea shook her head. “Black will do.” She slipped onto one of the stools by the counter.

The man (assumedly Jeremy) set the coffee down in front of Andrea. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Andrea snorted. “How about some valium?”

He tsked and held out his hands helplessly. “Sorry. We’re fresh out. Care for some laudanum instead?”

Andrea stared at him for a moment, then giggled. “No, unfortunately, I gave up laudanum for Lent.” She looked around. “You usually get any business this time of night?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes in the summer, we get customers all night long. But this is kind of the off season for late night dining.”

Andrea settled her elbows down onto the counter and tasted the decaf coffee. It tasted just almost like real coffee. She grimaced.

Jeremy noticed. “Coffee not doing it for you? Can I get you anything to eat? I can wake the cook up.”

“You let him sleep?”

“Let him? He sleeps. Besides, I’m not the manager. She isn’t here right now, which makes it safe. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Andrea smiled, despite herself. “I didn’t know that being charming was a required skill for waiters.”

Jeremy winked. “Only in diners, and between the hours of nine P.M. and five A.M.”

“Ah.”

“The few, the proud…” Jerry smiled widely.

Andrea held out a hand. “I’m Andrea.”

Jeremy took the hand lightly, with old-fashioned poise. “And I’m…”

She interrupted. “That’s okay. I’m psychic. Let me guess… You’re Jeremy, right?”

Jeremy twisted his face into melodramatic mock surprise. “You really are psychic, aren’t you?” He tapped his name badge. “I prefer Jerry, though. I’m only Jeremy when my mom’s mad at me.” His eyes twinkled with silent laughter, and possibly, like her, sleep deprivation. His eyes were washed-out gray. They made Andrea think of the sky in the winter.

Andrea’s smile deepened.

They talked about everything. The city, television shows, astronomy (both of them were interested), sports (neither of them were interested), movies, everything. They talked until Andrea found herself nodding off in the middle of the conversation.

“Excuse me, Jerry. I’ve got to go.”

“I understand. I can be incredibly boring sometimes. I can go on and on.”

Andrea shook her head sincerely. “No, it’s just that I feel like I’m going to fall asleep. And I want to get home and take advantage of the feeling before it’s too late to get any sleep.”

Jerry nodded knowingly. “Come back any time. I work here five days a week. We can talk.”

Andrea nodded back. “Maybe. How much do I owe you?”

He waved his hand in the air. “It’s boring in here. The conversation more than covers a couple of cups of coffee.”

Andrea smiled at him warmly. “That’s sweet. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. See you later, then.”

She tried to say goodbye on her way out, but a yawn cut it off, and Jerry waved her out the door.

It still took a while for her to get to sleep.

Tuesday

The morning was just the same as it always was. And yet it wasn’t. After only an hour and a half of sleep, Andrea was exhausted. But even after wreaking her customary violence on her alarm clock, she was smiling all the way to the bathroom. She tossed off her big panda shirt and surveyed herself in the mirror. Her dark-peaked breasts swayed slightly, pleasantly, as she turned to check herself out.

Not too bad, she thought. Maybe a little pale. Maybe you could stand to work out a little more. But, really, not too bad at all.

She pushed her white cotton panties down off her hips smoothly and stepped out. Her skin dimpled with the chill of the morning, and she slipped into the tub to take a shower. A nice long shower with really hot water.

Mandy watched Andrea coming into the cubicle appraisingly. One eyebrow raised before she spoke, apparently having noticed the cup of coffee already in Andrea’s hand.

“You get any sleep last night, hon?”

Andrea set the coffee down on her desk and sighed. “Not much. I think I’m beating this, though.”

“If you didn’t get any sleep, just how are you beating it?”

Andrea smiled back with a wink. “It’s called a positive attitude, Mandy. Just a positive attitude.”

Mandy harrumphed, but didn’t comment.

It was amazing how quickly the day went by. Probably just the positive attitude.

But that night was no different. She flopped from one side to the other on her bed, twisting in her shirt and her sheets. The time dragged on, and still she couldn’t sleep. The eye-shades didn’t work. Nothing worked. She kept thinking about work. Or about television. Mostly, though, she thought about the diner.

It was midnight when she got up and went to the diner.

Andrea was surprised to find that she felt strangely relieved when she saw that, once again, Jerry was the only one there. The little bell jingled happily to great her as she walked in.

She was also surprised at how her stomach flipped, just a tiny bit, when he said her name.

“Andrea! Back again? Let me guess… Decaf coffee, black?”

Andrea had to gather her breath, although she didn’t quite know why. “You know me. The usual.”

Jerry poured the coffee, still talking. “Still can’t sleep?”

Andrea sighed. “Let me guess. You have some advice.” It was a statement, not a question.

He handed the Styrofoam cup of coffee over to her, holding it up for her to take. Her fingers brushed his as she took the cup, and seemed to tingle for a moment with static electricity. Minutes later, she could still feel the points on her fingers that his hand had touched.

Jerry seemed taken aback. “Me? A graveyard shift waiter at an all-night diner? What would I know about insomnia?”

Andrea just almost laughed, but it would probably have made scalding hot coffee come out of her nose at that very moment.

After she was finished with her sip of coffee, Andrea asked, “So, you really don’t have any advice?”

“You mean, advice that you haven’t heard already? Probably not.”

She nodded vigorously. “I’ve heard them all. Meditation, exercise, diet, medication. I’m staying away from pills, though. They kind of scare me.”

He nodded. “Don’t like anything but you controlling your body?”

Andrea’s eyes popped open. “That’s exactly what I usually say. How did you know that?”

Jerry shrugged. “I can relate. Not that I always follow it. I’ll admit, I’m addicted to nicotine, and don’t intend to change that. I drink a little, from time to time.” He raised an eyebrow. “Have you tried the old standby of a nightcap before bed?”

Andrea raised an eyebrow to match his. “I assume you don’t mean a hat?”

“Maybe a glass of wine. A drink a day doesn’t make you an alcoholic.”

She considered it. Alcohol was a sedative, after all. “Well, I guess I have to find a liquor store, then. Know any that are open late?”

He shook his head. “Not in the city limits. But maybe I can help you.” He held up a finger to signal her to wait and walked back behind the counter area, into the kitchen. A minute later he walked back with a small-necked bottle with a brown label. When he set it down, she found the name Jack Daniel’s staring at her. Jerry stood there, behind it, waiting for her reaction.

She watched the bottle dubiously, as if it were a live snake. “I didn’t know you had a liquor license.”

“We don’t. I’m not going to sell you any alcohol. I’m offering to give you a drink or two, if you want it. This bottle was left around by one of the chefs that used to work here. He used it in a great pie recipe he had. He quit last year, but we’ve still got most of a case of Jack.”

Andrea stared at the bottle, thinking.

Jerry waited, then picked up the bottle. “It’s okay. It was just an idea. I’ll put this back.” He started to turn around, but Andrea caught his shirt sleeve.

“No, it’s worth a try. Set one up, barkeep.”

Jerry grinned happily. Deftly, he cracked the seal on the bottle and pulled out two clear plastic cups. Apparently there weren’t any shot glasses around. Holding one of the cups at an angle, he poured about a finger’s width of the clear fluid into the bottom. Then, thinking better of it, he poured that much again into it and set it in front of Andrea. Then he set to filling the other cup.

“Joining me?”

He nodded. “Why not. I don’t drink every day, but when the company’s right…” He trailed off as he capped up the bottle and picked up his cup.

Andrea picked up hers. It felt cool to the touch where the alcohol filled the bottom. “Cheers!” She held her cup out to tap against Jerry’s outstretched cup. Then she sipped at the cup. The whiskey tasted jus the way it had the last time she had tried some, several months ago, and she commented on that.

“Man… why don’t I just down a glass of turpentine?”

“Not used to strong drink?”

Andrea shrugged. “Not straight. I usually mix it with something.” She shrugged again and tipped her cup into her coffee.

Jerry watched her with a look of disgust. “What a waste of good liquor…”

“There’s no accounting for taste, my good man.” A taste of the now-fortified decaf coffee confirmed that her plan was sound. She could hardly taste the alcohol over the terrible coffee. She took a long sip, letting the hot liquid seep down her throat. Moment’s later, she began to feel warmer.

“Now that’s more like it.”

He stared at her doubtfully. “That’s drinkable?”

She pointed at the coffee-pot. “Try some. Anything’s an improvement over your coffee.”

“Not fair. You had the decaf. I make a good pot of coffee when I have something to work with.” He poured himself a mug of regular coffee and downed what remained of his plastic cup into it. As an afterthought, he added two cubes of sugar from the box beside the pot. Lifting the coffee-cup to his lips, he tasted carefully and thoughtfully.

Andrea couldn’t stand the suspense. “Well?”

He set his mug down and poured another bit of whiskey into it. Tasting it again, he gave a satisfied nod.

“I think you’ve hit on something here…”

Andrea rolled her eyes. “You’ve never heard of Irish coffee?”

Jerry shrugged again and took a long sip from his mug. “Okay, so maybe it’s not really new. It’s still new to me.”

They sipped their coffee quietly, conversation now seeming unnecessary. Andrea finished her cup after a few minutes and set it down on the counter.

“Feeling tired yet?” Jerry asked.

Andrea shook her head. She felt warm, but not tired. She didn’t even feel tipsy.

“Another?”

She thought about it. “Just one more. For the road, so to speak.”

This time, he re-filled her cup with coffee and poured the whiskey directly into it, stirring it with a little red stirrer. He re-filled his own at the same time, and walked the bottle back into the kitchen.

Andrea checked herself out in the mirror behind the counter while Jerry was in the back. She looked like a woman who had come here just after getting out of bed. Her hair was a mess. She could see right down her shirt, into her cleavage. It was obvious that she hadn’t bothered with a bra. Her face grew warm when she realized that Jerry had been looking right at her for almost an hour. He had been able to see right down her shirt…

She pulled her jacket farther closed as Jerry came back from the kitchen. She was uncomfortably warm.

Jerry lifted up his mug. He paused, possibly trying to think up a toast, but eventually just tipped the mug to his mouth.

Andrea followed suit. She could taste the whiskey in this cup. Jerry had possibly been just a bit more generous this time, not being able to see how much he had added.

But she drank it thirstily. The warmth of the hot coffee and the warmth of the alcohol seemed to add together, filling her body. After a long sip, she opened her eyes (just then realizing that she had closed them) to see Jerry leaning over the counter on his elbows, watching her.

She froze, cup still touching her lower lip. “What?”

He kept watching her. “What do you mean, what?”

He was looking at her. His stormy-gray eyes looked distant, poetic. Andrea’s whole body warmed up, realizing that he’d been watching her. She was acutely aware of her breasts, and she could feel her nipples against the fabric of her shirt. They were warm, almost hot, and her shirt felt abrasive against them.

Andrea leaned forward and opened her mouth to talk, but then forgot what she was about to say. She took a deep breath. She realized that she had been staring at Jerry’s face for a long time now. His lips were full, and parted slightly as he watched her.

He was very close now.

And then they fell together. That was the way that it would always seem to her, whenever she thought back to the moment. She didn’t remember moving forward, or him moving toward her. But her eyes closed slowly, and she felt his nose brush hers lightly. Then their lips touched, as softly as a butterfly landing. And time held its breath. Her eyes closed, she felt his fingers on alight her shoulder, resting there.

The brass bell over the door jingled.

Andrea yanked back, as quickly as her whiskey-laden reflexes could manage. She felt extremely self-conscious, and tried not to look at Jerry. Instead, she glanced toward the door.

Walking in was a small woman, even shorter than Andrea, though her white high-heels made up for that. Golden blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun, neatly away from her face. There didn’t seem to be a single hair out of place. She wore a white blouse with a gray jacket, and a comfortable-looking gray skirt. Her calves were very nice, Andrea noted. Somewhat over-sized glasses perched on her nose, giving her a slight resemblance to an owl. She looked like she just walked out of a business meeting. Her light blonde eyebrows were furrowed close together. She approached the counter slowly and angrily.