“Sit down, will ya?” The waitress stood there, silent, and poured hot black coffee into an undersized stained-brown mug in front of me. “I’ve seen this all before,” I said. “I’m reading,” she turned to leave and I asked her to wait a minute. “What’s the rush? There’s no one else in this place.” She seemed to have no genuine response for this, but her haste conveyed that she had long ago determined that what she had to add to my world didn’t make up for what I’d be taking away from her’s. “Why the rush, sweetie?” She walked away to put the coffee pot on its burner.
I drank my coffee and stared out the window at the soft-yellow reflections of streetlights on the wet asphalt. No one had walked by since the bells on the glass door jingled and jangled upon my entrance, yet I’m not sure it would have mattered if it were mid-day. I’ve seen it all before – life spent waiting for something else to come along. Boys would be sitting in the next booth over staring at dream girls – or just any girls – walking by outside – on the other side of the impenetrable pane of glass that obscures their faces and stifles their advances – their mendacious souls muted. Lame looking businessmen would be behind me talking about something that won’t matter five minutes later while using their BlackBerry’s as forks – nearly, perhaps. Outside, a spent looking mother might walk by in a bright pink sweatsuit. She’d probably be one of those parents too f****** focused on the outcome to realize that they are cooking their children like little frogs in a frying pan.
I stared at the waitress for a long time as she hunched over the counter seemingly perfecting looking bored and pissed at the same time. I squeezed my coffee mug as hard as I could manage, trying to break it. It didn’t break. No one pays attention anymore.
“Excuse me,” I shouted. Startled, slightly, she looked my way. I waived my menu. She walked over. I could see the imprint left by her bony ass on the red-topped swivel stool.
“Do you enjoy waiting?”
“Not all the time.”
“When do you enjoy it?”
“When we’re slammed.”
“You like waiting for people to eat and move on? Don’t you wish you could eat and go sometimes?”
“Why are you here? You’re not going. Why don’t you eat and go?”
“I’ll eat and then I’ll go away out there.”
“What do you want?”
“One egg, dry wheat toast, and a donut. And more coffee.”
“Is that it?”
“Yes, that’s it unless you want to sit down.”