A Glass of Water and a Diet Coke (a very short story)

---

The scene is a familiar one. It's well after midnight and the sun has hidden itself completely beyond the horizon. The summer night air is just barely warm enough to be felt. "It's probably all the humidity in the air," I say to myself. They say there are going to be thundershowers. I step out of the car remembering to grab my sweater before I go inside. I pause momentarily to look up at the stars. There aren't many to be seen. Still, I fall into silent awareness, awareness of self. I feel like I'm driving alone, at night, on a highway. The feeling is strange yet undeniably familiar. It's the kind of feeling one usually gets when one looks up at the night sky. I exhale deeply. I look around and see nothing. Everything is quiet, the parking lot, the roads, even the nearby trainyard.

The glass doors of Denny's push open easily and I am greeted, almost over-zealously, by a rush of cold air. As per usual, the air conditioning is turned up way too high. I knew the sweater would come in handy.

"Hello." A womans voice, it sounds almost girlish.

"Just for one, please." I say, still half emersed in my night zen. I know the waitress. I went to high school with her and we shared a handful of classes. I wonder what she is doing working the graveyard shift at Denny's? Does she recognize me? Does she know that I recognize her?

She grabs a menu and heads toward the tiny corner packed with people. I would, of course, prefer to be seated at the other end of the restaurant, away from people, but considering she seems to be the only waitress on shift I reserve my eye rolling for another time. It would, after all, be rather cumbersome to force her to work the entire floor alone.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

Sitting back in my seat I close my eyes and push my hands up my forhead, slowly combing my fingers through my hair. I still haven't said hi, and have yet to make eye contact. The questions persist. "I'm sure she is way smarter than I am, why doesn't she have cush job with the government?" Etc.

"A glass of water and a Diet Coke."

I can tell she knows who I am, thats the vibe I'm getting. Don't ask me how I know, I just do. I've always had a sixth sense for those kinds of things. But I've committed to this little charade. I can't say hi now, it'll probably embarass her.

She leaves to get the drinks an I am aware, yet again, of the air conditioning. It is far too cold in here. She returns quickly with the drinks. Nothing quite like drinking ice cold drinks when you're already too cold. Oh well, I've got my zip up I'll just have to make due. The pop is a little flat, the CO2 probably needs to be changed. I should say something, but don't, fearing that in doing so I'll proably give away that I'm trying to hide (or ignore) the fact that I know her. The less contact the better.

"Can I bring you anything else?"

I manage enough eye contact to seem polite but not enough to show that I recognize who she is. Best not let on I know.

"I'll have the Denver Scramble." Usual fare for this time of night.

She was a very bright girl, so what is she doing working here? A few memories start coming to mind (memories that, though amusing, need not be talked about here). I would use the term "flooding back" but there isn't nearly enough nostalgia to warrant that. But I do remember her laugh. It was beautiful and infectious. I also remember that was almost enough for me to have an almost crush on her.

The food comes quickly. The meal is uneventful. I start with the sausage and move onto the bacon. After the meat is consumed I tackle both the hash browns and scrambled eggs, leaving the pancakes for last. I eat very quickly.

She brings me another glass of water. I still won't say hi.

She returns again with the bill, "I'll just leave this here." She smiles politely and walks away.

There was no need to check the name on the bill, or look at her name tag, to see if maybe there was the slightest chance I could have been wrong about who she was. The meal was over.

The bill came to $9.19. On the bottom of the bill was a poorly scribed, but genuine, "thank you" and just beside itwas a little smiley face. It looked something like this:

II
U

I pulled three fives out of my pocket an placed them on the table. I walked straight out the restaurant to my car, noticing only that the warm summer air wasn't enough to warm me up. Without incident or pause I got in my car, turned up the heat, and headed for home.

On the drive back, there was nothing on the radio.

---

That, ladies and gentlemen, for the most part, was a true story. I happened to wander into Denny's a few nights ago. The experience was inexplicably surreal. Not saying hi, and what not, was a dick thing to do, I regret that (somewhat). All that aside, if you look at the story as if it was with someone whose potential was wasted (much like I did) you have to ask yourself these questions: Was what she was doing inherently embarssing/of less worth? Or, did my own arrogance/elitism/inhumanity make it so? I'm inclined to think the latter. But I digress...

In a nutshell the story is about shrugging your shoulders, looking down, turning your back, and walking away. This is something that too many of us are guilty of nowadays. But before I go I'll leave you with a glimmer of hope, another very very short story.

Bruce McRae, of much fame, had a job teaching English in Korea. He made money hand over fist. After the tsunami devastated Southeast Asia Bruce left his job to help with the relief effort. He is still there. He makes no money doing this.

That is a true story. That my dear reader, is humanity. Fare the well.