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She let out a
laugh at what I assume was my confused expression. “We just got off the night shift at Wal-Mart,
stocking shelves. We need dinner, not breakfast. Is that a problem?”
The other woman,
looking about as tired as I felt with disheveled long, stringy- black hair and
puffy bags under her eyes added, “If not, we’ll be happy with coffee and some
toast. You do toast, right?”
“Of course!” I assured her, definitely too
loudly.
“Well Doris, I
don’t know about you, but I’m jonesing for a burger. A bacon burger. With
cheese and fried onions. Can you do that?” she asked me as she shut her eyes
and stretched her arms above her, as if she were just sitting up in bed.
“Yes, of course,
no problem” I replied. “Do you want the fries or something?”
“No. No fries.
Too many calories. I’m being bad enough as it is. Doris, what do you feel
like?”
“Toast. Brown
toast. No butter,” Doris requested, leaning her head against the back of the
booth and sticking her chin out at me.
“Toast?” the
other woman exclaimed. “Don’t make me feel guilty! Surely you’ve got to be hungrier
than that after that Campbell’s soup shipment we just stocked! Jesus Christ,
eat something substantial. Aren’t I right?” She asked, looking at me.
“I’d be happy to
prepare anything that’s on the menu for you” I offered weakly.
Doris closed her
eyes. “I’ll have a burger too. The same way Vera’s having it.”
“Thattta girl”
Vera rasped, her voice sounding much like Kathleen Turner’s in her later years.
“Ok” I said as I
pulled out my order pad and pen. “Do you both want all the other toppings on
the burgers? Ketchup, mustard, all those?”
“Everything.”
“Everything.”
“Alright, coming
right up,” I say, scribbling down the order in short form. “And do you want any
drinks with that?”
“Cokes.” They
said in unison, their heads now resting against the backs of their booths, eyes
closed.
Hi Amber...now I'm very curious about the back story on the 'server'. Why is she behaving this way? Why is she working at this diner, on this shift? What connection, if any, does she feel with these customers? (I confess when I was first teaching I used to dream of a simple job serving at a lunch counter. I really had no idea!) There's a short story lurking here I think.
ReplyDeleteDeborah