Buster's Diner

“Can I top that off for ya?”

Buster was holding the coffee pot over Melissa’s mug.

“Yes, please,” said Melissa.

Buster refilled the cup of joe and looked at me.

“You doin’ alright with that, Tom?” he gestured to my glass of red wine. I had only taken a sip.

“I’m good for now. Thanks.” I eyed his breast pocket. It carried an envelope containing a card with my handwriting.

He winked back, “Food will be out shortly. Let me know if you kids need anything,” Buster smiled and returned to the kitchen.

Melissa was sipping at her steaming cup. I thought back to the first time I took her to this diner. We shared a milkshake.

“No cream or sugar?” I asked. Black coffee with dinner?

She shook her head, “I don’t need to bother him for that. I don’t mind the taste.”

Melissa went back to sipping. I watched her eyes slowly close as she ignored the taste of black coffee. I had some of my wine. It wasn’t the best wine in town, but Buster always kept a bottle or two in the back for special occasions. Her ring sparkled as she set the mug down. It looked a bit tight on her finger, but she didn’t seem to care. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she polished it just for tonight. I spun my ring around my finger. It fit the same every day.

“I was thinking we could go to the drive-in after dinner. They’re playing some old movies. Could be fun?” I said.

She nodded, “Yeah. Maybe. But you remember we have Brandon’s game tomorrow morning?”

“I know, but he doesn’t have to be on the field until ten. We could stay out late. Don’t worry. I’ll get you home before curfew,” I smiled at my own joke.

Melissa forced a weak laugh. Her smile quickly faded and her straight tone of voice came back, “Did you remember to pick up Bethany’s dress from the tailor?”

“I didn’t have time to do it today. I mean, I was trying to get things ready for toni-”

“You didn’t get her dress?”

“Well, no. I figured we could wait until-”

“Damn it,” she checked her phone, “I’m sure they’re closed by now.”

Melissa hastily scrolled through her phone’s calendar.

“We can pick it up tomorrow after Brandon’s game. She will have plenty of time to get ready,” I said.

“They’re closed tomorrow,” she said, without looking up from her phone.

“What?”

“The tailor is closed tomorrow. They don’t stay open on the day of Prom, Tom.”

“I called them last week and they said they would be open.”

She put her phone down and looked at me, “Did you ask them if they would be open tomorrow or did you ask them if they are open on Saturdays?”

I stared back at her, blankly.

“Shit.”

She started typing something in her phone, “I’ll have to call Sherry tonight and see if she can let us pick up the dress tomorrow morning.”

Melissa put her phone up to her ear and started sliding out of the booth.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

She held up a single finger.

“Hey, Sherry! It’s Melissa… Bethany’s mom? Do you have a second?”

She walked through the diner and exited the front door. I drank some wine.

“God damn it.”

I heard the sizzling of the food before Buster came through the double doors with our plates. He set the food down.

“Where’s Mel?” he asked.

“On a call.”

Buster smiled as he scratched his grey head, “I gotta tell ya, Tom, it really takes me back. Seein’ you two together and happy after… what… fifteen years?”

I gestured to the envelope in his pocket, “Twenty.”

Buster patted the envelope with his hand, “Of course! That’s beautiful. Just beautiful.” He disappeared behind the double doors and reappeared in the little service window with his head down as he prepared other customers’ orders.

Melissa’s heels were thumping on the linoleum floors as she made her way back to the booth. She sighed heavily as she sat down.

“Sherry is kind enough to let us pick up the dress tomorrow at seven because she has to help her daughter get ready tomorrow, too,” she said sharply.

“So no drive-in tonight, I take it.”

She was cutting her pancakes. “Not tonight.”

I seasoned my steak. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really think about it.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just finish eating and get home before it gets too late.”

We ate in silence for a moment. I watched as she put syrup on her pancakes. My steak was a little dry, but the flavor was perfect. It tasted like it did in high school. Melissa and I would eat at Buster’s Diner every Friday after my football games. We didn’t get there until almost eight every time, but Buster would stay open late just for us.

Melissa coughed after having a bite of her pancakes. I reached out my hand to hold hers as her coughing stopped.

“You okay, Mel?” I asked.

She pulled her hand away to grab her napkin. She spit out a chunk of pancake and folded it into the napkin. Buster brought over a glass of water.

“Did it go down the wrong pipe?” he asked.

Melissa drank the water.

“I’m alright, Buster. Thanks.”

Buster nodded before turning away. Melissa brought the glass to her lips and muttered, “So awful. Oh my gosh.”

“What? Are the pancakes alright?” I asked.

“I can taste the gristle from the skillet.”

“Do you want Buster to make you some fresh ones? You know he wouldn’t care.”

She finished her water, “That’s alright. I wasn’t planning on eating much here.”

I waited for her to say something else—a punchline maybe. She just checked her phone for the time.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Nothing.” Her eyes avoided my gaze.

“We could order something else. I mean… tonight is ‘our night’.”

“I just don’t really like this place,” she said plainly.

I let out a confused laugh. “Okay. I asked you where you wanted to go and you said I could pick so I thought this would be fine.”

“I know.”

“So would you rather go someplace else?” I was beginning to feel a little warm.

“It doesn’t really matter where we go.”

The evening was going well. I dropped the ball on the whole dress thing, but other than that it was going perfectly fine. Was it something I did earlier today? Earlier this week? It was obvious she had something on her mind. I just never understood why she had to beat around the bush so unnecessarily. I was always open to talking about things. Mostly because it was typically some small issue that was easy to resolve.

“Okay. Are you upset about Bethany’s dress?”

“No.”

“I already apologized. I promise I will handle it,” I said, trying to show her my sincerity.

“It’s nothing, Tom.”

I’m not buying it.

“Seriously?”

She finally looked at me, “I’m being serious. I’m fine.”

Yeah right, I thought. I set down my silverware on the table.

“Great. I’m sorry for ruining our anniversary, I guess. Should we just go then?”

Melissa took a deep breath and looked like she was about to say something, but changed her mind. She sighed again. It felt like she did that a lot lately. She slowly shook her head as she stared at her plate that was stacked with uneaten pancakes. Our normal spats would go on for another few minutes before my inevitable apology. It seemed like Melissa was thinking about that, too.

“Mel? Are you happy?” I asked her.

She stared at nothing. Her mind was elsewhere. It frustrated me that she couldn’t voice her thoughts more quickly. The longer the silence continued, the warmer I got. In moments like that, I just had to wait for her to finish collecting herself.

“I am.”

I waited for the “but.”

“And I’m not. Happy, I mean.”

I was feeling better because she was finally being honest with me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this conversation was going somewhere new.

“Okay. What do you need? What can I do?”

“I don’t need anything. I have everything. We have the house, the kids, our jobs… each other…”

It made me happy to hear her talk about those things.

“Yeah?”

“And that’s it. We have what every family could want.” She said it unconvincingly.

“Then what’s the problem?” I asked.

She said nothing.

“Mel. Why aren’t you happy?”

Her face showed no emotion when she said, “I’m just tired.”

“You’re tired?” I asked.

“I’m tired,” she repeated. “I’m tired of living the same day. Everyday. For years. We have lived in this town for our entire lives. We have the same problems all the time. We have the same fights all the time.”

“But we don’t fight that often. It’s only once in a while.” I was getting worried.

“It’s not about the fights, Tom.”

This could still be fixed. This was just going to be another rough night. We’d had worse date-nights before. Hell, we’d had worse anniversaries before. I knew things would be better by tomorrow.

“Then what is it? What can we do?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Just keep going.”

“That’s it? You don’t want to do anything about it?” I asked.

“It’s not that bad.”

“I’m confused, Mel. You say you’re unhappy and your solution to the problem is to do nothing about it.” I was getting angry now. “Is there something else going on?”

Her gaze turned aggressive as she pulled her hand away from mine.

“Like what, Tom? What could possible be going on?” Her sarcasm was infuriating.

“I don’t know. My wife just told me she’s unhappy and that there’s nothing I can do about it. It sounds like there might be something else going on.”

She stared into my eyes and said, “Do you think something else is going on?”

“I don’t know,” I said, matter-of-factly.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“What you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

“Say it.”

I knew what she wanted me to say. I didn’t want to ask her. I never would have expected this. But I was so mad at how horribly the night was going that I wanted to ask her, just to end it.

“Is there someone else?”

I heard her hand slap my face before I felt it.

“How dare you ask me that fucking question?” she whispered.

I held my cheek, dumbstruck. She grabbed my glass of wine and took a quick swig, emptying it.

Buster had just exited the double doors before coming over to our table.

“Jeez, was the food really that bad?” he gestured to our plates, “I know I’m old, but I still make the best flapjacks in town.”

“It’s fine, Buster. We’ve just been… talking,” I said as I tried to hide my red cheek.

Melissa grinned a phony grin, “They’re really good. I just wasn’t feeling well this afternoon.”

Buster laughed, “Alright then. Eat up! I’ll be back with some more wine and your dessert.” He winked at me before he turned to leave.

“We’ll take the check whenever you’re ready,” said Melissa.

Confused, Buster said, “Oh. Sure thing, Mel.”

I whispered to Melissa, “What the hell was that?”

“Don’t ever ask me something like that again,” she pointed at me as she spoke.

“Then what is it? What’s going on with us?”

She took the ice from her water and wrapped it in my napkin. She held it against my cheek. I took it from her and she sat back in her seat.

“I’m not leaving you. I wouldn’t do that to the kids. Besides, I can’t see us going through all the trouble of getting divorced just to see if we’d be happy with other people. Let’s face it—we’re almost forty. This is as good as it’s going to get. It’s too late for us to start over.”

“So you… you’ve thought about getting a divorce?” My anger was gone. All that was left was fear and uncertainty.

“I’ve thought about it. But it wouldn’t be practical. We’re not that bad, Tom... sparks just aren’t flying anymore.”

Up until this point I had been sitting on the edge of my seat so I could hear her, but then I sank bank as I thought about what she said. I knew what she was talking about, and to be honest, I had a feeling something like this would happen eventually, but I had always hoped that the sparks would fly for her again.

Now her eyes were searching me. “What are you thinking?”

I was trying to think of a solution. I was trying to solve the problem right then and there, but the thing that scared the shit out of me was how she was acting through all of this. Her acceptance of this seemingly unavoidable fate we were destined to live forever was unsettling. I questioned everything; our joy, our laughter, our memories… At what point had she given up? I still loved her, but I understood—She loved me, just not passionately. She was happy but she wasn’t satisfied.

Buster returned with dessert and the check. He brought us each a slice of apple pie with a scoop of ice cream on the side. The envelope I intended to give Melissa was under her plate. I reached for the envelope but Melissa quickly grabbed the check.

“I’ll pay for tonight since I slapped you.” She made an attempt at a smile, but I could tell she was exhausted.

I wanted to return the smile, but she would see that it wasn’t genuine. A combination of sadness, hopelessness, and fear drove my thoughts. We got up and I grabbed the envelope as we left. I held the door open for Mel. She whispered a quick thanks as she walked past me. Buster waved to me from the kitchen.

“Come back soon, you two!”

I didn’t say anything. I stood in the doorway alone for a while until I heard the car start. I sighed at the thought of Buster finding our table completely full of food, but I knew we’d see him soon enough. I can’t really explain how it felt to hold that undelivered envelope in my hand. I had written new vows and I had planned on asking her to renew her’s with me. It felt a little pointless now…

I started toward the car. I felt misplaced. Not me, I suppose, but this moment felt out of place. Things won’t always be this way, I thought. Maybe things will be better in the morning.

That was the first time I truly felt like I was lying to myself.