By: Brianna Lee Hubler
Copyright © 2021 Brianna Lee Hubler. All rights reserved.
__________Papa Randy’s Diner was a classic. Customers sat in bright-red booths. They gorged themselves on overflowing baskets of fries and meaty, palm-sized hamburgers. The waitresses—all young women in their mid-teens to early twenties—wore cotton-candy-colored shirts. Their matching skirts rested flirtatiously, just above the knees, accompanied by their white, half-aprons. The color of their uniforms stood out against the checkered floor of the diner, where the waitresses scurried about, as they took their customers’ orders, and served them.
__________Tonight, the diner was packed. Jazz music played on the jukebox, though the beat was barely audible against the cacophonous background of clinking, clanging dinnerware, the shuffling feet of the staff, and the voices of chatty, boisterous customers. Had it not been for the strong gusts of wind that roared against the diner’s entrance when the middle-aged workman opened the door, he might have escaped notice. His naturally dark hair bled through his faded, blond, hair dye. His heavy, brown-leather coat was torn in several places. Smelly, swamp mud caked the bottom of his boots to the mid-foreleg of his jeans. He had not wanted to cause a stir, but the loud, cold voice of nature, turned the many heads of the crowd his way, and for a moment, muted them.
__________Customers glared, turned up their noses, and then finally, averted their eyes. They grumbled under their breath.
__________“Common sense to get cleaned up before you come around people,” a man muttered.
__________“Some people don’t have any class,” a woman replied.
__________Complementary remarks abounded, each staged as spoken to the speaker’s table, and never directly to the workman.
__________The workman frowned and sighed. He sat himself at the table farthest from the other customers. He folded his hands in his lap and read the beverage list stationed at his table.
__________When one of the waitresses came by with his menu, he greeted her with a smile.
__________“I can take your order whenever you’re ready, Sir,” the waitress offered, “but don’t worry, there’s no rush.”
__________Tonight, I get a hot meal, the workman praised. All day long he had slaved away. He had dug holes in the marsh, poured concrete, and placed thick, heavy, wooden poles into the wet, concrete-filled holes. The day’s employer had been a wealthy, retired man, whose pride and aging back had persuaded him to hire the workman to do his heavy-lifting and messy work. The workman had labored in preparation for the building of the retired man’s dock, and he had managed to earn a total of $22, just enough to buy himself a meal at the diner.
__________“Would you like me to get you a drink? Or I can step aside while you read the menu if you’d like,” the waitress continued.
__________The workman turned his attention away from his thoughts. He turned to the waitress.
__________The waitress’s growing baby bump peaked out from under her snug uniform. She tugged at the tail of her shirt, but the moment she let go of her shirt, its tail popped back up again.
__________“Excuse me,” she said and struggled again to cover herself and her baby.
__________The workman shot her a concerned and puzzled glance. “What are you tryin’ to cover up for, Miss? A baby ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he said.
__________The waitress’s posed happiness drained from her face. An honest sadness replaced it. She leaned over and whispered in the workman’s ear, “The prettiest girls make the most tips.”
__________“In that case,” the workman began, “I’ll have one of those $2 cups of coffee.”
__________He lowered his voice, slipped his twenty-dollar bill into the pocket of the waitress’s apron, and added, “And, you keep this, because there ain’t nothin’ more beautiful than a new mother.”
__________The waitress’s eyes brightened. “Thank you,” she said, “I’ll have that coffee made up right away.”
__________The waitress hurried to the kitchen, poured the workman his cup of coffee, and set it down on the workman’s table. “Careful now, it’s piping hot!” she warned. “Will that be everything for you?”
__________The workman grabbed a couple sugar packets from the case on the table and nodded.
__________“I hope you enjoy it, Sir,” the waitress replied.
__________Then she politely excused herself and left to attend the next table.
__________The workman ripped open his sugar packets, dumped the contents into his coffee, and stirred it with a spoon. He picked up the cup and took small, patient sips of the warm, brown liquid, until his cup was empty. Then he set his two, one-dollar bills on the table, and set the empty cup atop them.
__________He got up from his table and headed for the door. Each table he passed tossed another disgusted glance or snide remark his way. He ignored them and looked back at his waitress.
__________Her steps were lighter, and her face was brighter. The workman smiled, and without waiting for the waitress to glance his way, he opened the door and walked out.
Endlesslore 