Chapter 2: Chapter 1 - Just a Cup of Coffee
He sat, perched on the vinyl covered stool, watching the steam rise from the cup, wisps of vapor reaching out from the black liquid. The cracked pink laminate lunch counter was aglow with the fluorescent lighting of the diner. He held the cup in both of his hands, the chipped white mug almost disappearing in their immensity.
"Something wrong, Sugar?"
His head popped up so fast he felt queasy. "No, no, I'm fine."
The waitress was in the midst of tying her apron around her waist, face flushed from rushing. Her hair was up in a ponytail, strands of hair working their way free.
"Ok, well I am taking over for Mary Jean, her shift just ended. Name's Kyle. You need anything, just gimme a yell, ya' here?"
"Sure," he said, the side of his mouth involuntarily turning up. He couldn't help but smile at the disheveled waitress.
She gave a small smile in return and rushed on to check on her other customers.
He watched as she walked away, her worn sneakers squeaking against the newly mopped floor. Her pepto pink uniform was wrinkled, just touching the backs of her knees. She bore all the signs of a newbie.
The majority of the waitresses had been working here since the place opened in the mid 70's. The neighborhood had been different then. It had been a place for families to spend their Saturdays and after church on Sundays. Slowly, the neighborhood declined and so did the patronage. The owners tried their best to keep it nice despite the surroundings.
Because of those factors, there was a high turnover rate with new employees. Every so often a newbie would cycle though, some older women picking up a second job, a young guy who needed fast cash or a younger girl biding her time until a better job opened up.
He had never formed any relationships with the people who worked here. He knew them to see the, but none by name. He was always courteous but never one to hold a conversation. Sometimes, all of the guys would come here for breakfast after their shift. When he would join them, they would goat him into talking to the hot, young waitress of the moment. They knew he was shy, quiet, reserved. They also knew just how far they could push him.
He turned his attention back to his coffee, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip. After a long swallow, he rested the cup back on the counter and began to trace the pattern of the laminate with his thumbnail. He scraped the bottom of his boots on the footrest of the stool.
He glanced at the day's newspaper that lay opened next to him. It had been that way since he had first arrived. He looked at it every few minutes, but had yet to read any of it. It was one of those days where his mind was going to wander and there was no sense in even trying to focus.
"You want something to eat while you nurse that coffee?"
He jumped. "No, I'm fine."
"Awfully jumpy for a firefighter, cool under pressure not your thing?" She smirked
He raised one of his eyebrows.
"I may be new, but I'm not that new. Uniform, Sugar, gives it away every time." She said laughing over her shoulder as she walked away.
She disappeared through the double swinging doors into the kitchen, still shaking her head laughing.
He had been a member of the Philadelphia Fire Department for awhile now and for almost as long had been coming to this diner. He turned his eyes up to the clock perched above the pie case, 12am. He had been on shift for two days. It had been a slow few days, white cloud kind of days. Cabin fever had set in.
Usually, he stayed at the fire house while on duty, but when he left he kept the radio ear piece in just in case he had to run back around the corner. The monotone voices buzzed in his ear all of the happenings in the city.
"You look like a guy who would appreciate a warm slice of pie." She slid a small plate with an over sized slice of apple pie on it. The filling spilled out of the side, steam still rising.
Before he could refuse, she walked away, busying herself wiping down counters and tables in the now mostly empty restaurant.
How did she keep sneaking up on him? He wondered as he picked up the teaspoon off of the plate and dipped it into the warm filling. The smell of cinnamon overwhelmed his senses. Shame to waste food, he thought. He tasted it slowly savoring the warmth in his mouth, the pie was still piping hot, but she was right. That was the only way he would have eaten it. He turned the spoon over letting the hollow of the spoon hang on his tongue.
A few spoonfuls later, the pie was gone and the plate was clean enough to reuse. He put the spoon back on the plate and gulped his lukewarm coffee. It had been awhile since he had eaten.
"Ah-ha, I was right!" She said triumphantly as she drifted back to his end of the counter.
"Yes, ma'am."
"He speaks! I had begun to think the only words in you vocabulary were 'no thank you' and 'I'm fine."
He smiled.
"You want a refill on the coffee?"
"Please."
"Another word for your repertoire."
She scooped up his empty dishes and walked back to the kitchen. He noticed she had an odd way of walking that made her brown ponytail swing from side to side as she walked. The light pink uniform looked brighter next to her slightly olive skin. The apron she had tied around her waist cinched the too large a uniform, barely showing her curves. He shook his head. "No one should be thinking this much about their waitress," he grumbled under his breath.
She stormed back through the double doors, grabbed a fresh cup and pulled the lever on the coffee machine. She was looking away from him talking to another waitress. She was small. But she had strength; you didn't come into this neighborhood not being able to hold your own.
"Here you go, Sweetheart." She set the coffee gently in front of him, releasing a handful of creamers next to the cup.
"Thank you."
"Calling Engine 7, Ladder Company 10, Smoke in residence…." He was already standing up searching through his wallet for cash. The tone was sounding in his ear.
"Gotta go," he grunted as he pulled out a ten dollar bill and threw it onto the counter.
"Wait, I'll get you change."
"No time, keep it." He smiled, winked and ran out of the door, his long legs quickly closing the gap between him and the door. The bell on the doors chime was the only evidence he was ever there.
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