Green Light Diner

She had worked at the Green Light diner for 8 years. 8 long, insufferable years of over easy eggs, barely cooked bacon and suspiciously salty ham sandwiches. The coffee was the perfect combination of gritty sludge and molten lava, and the plastic that cracked over the bursting booth seats was yellowing at the edges. She came each day at 4am, right as the night shift was wrapping up, and just before the morning rush of truckers, flaggers, and loggers. Her entire working career could be illustrated in one simple phrase. “Whatcha get?”

It began a fully formed greeting and invitation, “Hi there welcome to Green Light, what can I get for you?” her large blue eyes and innocent grin making you forget that the silverware didn’t match. As the years went by her eyes stayed blue, and her grin became more skeptical. “Hi, what can I get for you?” and “What can I get you?” effortlessly became “What are you getting?” and finally, “Whatcha get?” the grunting men that frequented the diner didn’t really mind, as long as there was still a smile.

This particular morning, as the night shift wrapped up and duties were transferred, she found herself handed a ticket from her longtime friend and mentor. Maggie had been at Green Light for 15 years, and her greeting consisted of a grunt, and a nod towards the menu. Perfection. “He’s been here all night.” Maggie tilted her head towards the back booth.

“Got it.” She tipped her head, briskly tying the frayed apron around her midsection.

“Lucks to you.” Maggie headed for the door, tiredness dripping off her frame as clear as sweat droplets.

A damp rag took the crumbs off the countertop, and a short nod to the cook brought about two dots and a dash. Stuffing a quick bit of the eggs into her mouth, she heard the familiar scrape of a cup across the tabletop. Snatching the pot of what was generously known as coffee, java, mud, hot joe, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and approached the back booth. As was her way, she filled the cup to the brim, expertly dashing off the last drop. “Breakfast.” His low rasping voice was distant, as if he was preoccupied in watching the ripples across his coffee.

“Whatcha get?”

There was a pause, and she realized there was no menu on the table. Quickly she pulled the laminated sheet from her front apron pocket and extended it. He didn’t bother looking. “Bring me the special.”

She hesitated, “It’s not very good.”

He tilted his head up, amusement crinkling his brown eyes at the edges. “What do you suggest?”

“That you go home and get some sleep.” She took in the deep lines around his mouth, the way his shoulders curled forward, and the gap in his jacket that showed the shoulder holster and accompanying firearm. Ah. It made sense now.

“Hopefully soon.” He nodded his head towards the window. For the first time she appreciated the unobstructed view the dinner’s windows offered of the park. In the dim light that spoke of an impending sunrise, she could see figures milling around the trash cans near the parks edge.

“Ah, glad to see the city’s taken an interest in loitering.”

“We do what we can.”

“Maybe I should bring the special then, it seems you’re used to disappointment.” She wasn’t sure what prompted the dig.

The lines around his mouth deepened as he smiled, a slow, impish smile that took years off his face, “Seems you have an issue with my chosen profession.”

“Seems you should have better things to do then watch teenagers in the park.”

“Do you know them?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said teenagers, just guessing then?”

She cast a quick glance out the window, “They’ve come in a time or two, harmless if you ask me.”

“What about the coke they’re dealing?”

That brought her gaze back crashing into his, eyebrows drawn tightly together. “They don’t deal.”

“So sure are you?”

“Yes Yoda, I am.” She turned on her heel, headed towards the counter just as the cook began calling out orders.

The next hour passed in a blur, as the early morning crowd poured through the diner. She was shuffling plates piled high with greasy, gassy goodness, filling cups, and fielding rough jokes right back at the burly lumberjacks that occupied half her section. The back booth was quiet, not even the wave of a menu. She had dropped off the special, napkins, and silverware, and been on her way. Just before the school rush Darla appeared, her face eager as she slid into a spot at the countertop. “Can I have pie for breakfast?”

“You absolutely cannot.”

“Fine but in 6 months the first thing I am going to do is order pie for breakfast.”

She paused, sliding a glass of orange juice towards her younger sister, “That seems a waste of a perfectly good birthday breakfast.”

“You say waste, I say, fighting the matriarchy.” Darla wiggled her eyebrows, her blue eyes mirroring her sisters behind the counter.

“Were you out with Jason this morning?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I was sleeping until like….” Darla checked her cell phone screen, “…10 minutes ago.

“Do you know what Jason and his friends were doing at the park this morning?”

“Jeeze what’s with all the questions?”

“I saw them on my way in today, it was pretty early, I was just curious.”

Darla paused with the juice halfway lifted, “I have no idea what that idiot was doing up and at the park at such a godforsaken hour, any more questions sherlock?”

She looked past Darla, her eyes meeting the stranger from the booth, he had his receipt in his hand, no doubt approaching to pay his tab. Quickly she composed her face and snatched the receipt from his extended hand. “Thanks for stopping at the Green Light, have a great day!” the platitude felt forced even to her.

“You as well, ma’am” he tipped his head at her, shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets and ambled out the front door.

Darla barely noticed the exchange, her phone in hand, her thumbs were flying over the keys. “I gotta go, thanks for the juice!”

Watching her sister shoot out of the diner, she felt a familiar clench around her heart. She ignored it, focusing instead on the countertop patrons and their needs. At the back of her mind there lingered an impish smile and raspy voice, much to her annoyance.

The next morning was much the same, Maggie jerked her head towards the back booth, “Again.”

“Cop.”

“Really?”

“Did he talk to you?”

“No.” Maggie suddenly looked curious, “You?”

“Just to get coffee.” The lie was too easy.

“Lucks to you.”

She took her time cleaning the countertop, checking the register, chatting with the cooks. Finally, she approached the only customer in the diner. “Top off?”

He pushed his cup towards her, “Still mad?”

“Not at all, haven’t given it a second thought.” She glanced out the window, watching the huddled, hoodied group break off and go their separate ways. “Another wasted night?”

“Maybe, but the morning is certainly looking up.” The double meaning would have been easy to miss if he hadn’t been studying her face with such interest.

She gave him her best ice queen impression, the one that froze out truckers, team guys, and the occasional despondent laborer. “If there’s nothing else?”

“Just the special, thanks.”

She turned before the smile on her lips was apparent.

Darla was at the countertop just before 8am, rubbing her eyes and being polite to the elderly farmer on her left. She ate her scrambled eggs without looking up from her phone, and blew kisses on her way out the door. The cop left around 9am, his polite nod grating on her last nerve.

Maggie called her cell just as she arrived home. “Sweetie can you take my shift tonight?”

“Sure.” There was no thought of turning her down, hustling afforded her the apartment that Darla had grown up in.

“Thanks babe, its been a rough few days, I just want to sleep a little and you know Bob has been all over me to spend time with him.”

“I got you, see you later.” She hung up, looking at the clock, calculating if she could fit in both a nap and a shower in the time before she had to go back.

There was an uncomfortable tightness in her chest as she got ready for the night shift. A sense of something to come. She tried not to think about impish smiles and tired brown eyes as she pulled her hair back into a bun and smoothed down her stray strands.

The world was dying down as she drove to the Green Light, her music bumped loudly, amping her up for the night ahead. She parked in her usual place, taking a few minutes and extra care to make sure her hair and makeup was in place. It was silly.

Through it didn’t seem silly at all when he walked into the diner a few hours later, pausing in what must have been his normal sweep of the interior. “Well hi there.”

“Covering a shift.” Suddenly she was mortified, what if he assumed she had switched on purpose?

“Coffee and pie then, please.” he was already headed towards his booth.

She set everything down in front of him a few moments later, spotting the usual group of hoodies and bad haircuts across the way. “Keeping busy I see.”

“I’ve passed the time in worse ways.” He took a sip of the hot coffee and lifted an eyebrow at her, “At least the company is better tonight.”

Her cheeks flashed warm and she hoped he didn’t notice as she headed back towards the counter. It wasn’t half an hour later that Jason ambled in, his bleached blond locks standing out against the dark blue of his jacket. Leaning against the counter he tapped his foot impatiently, surprise flashing over his face as she saw her. “Oh hey, where’s Maggie?”

Half amused, that this was the halfwit occupying her stranger’s full attention, she tilted her head at him seriously. “Oh Maggie asked me to take care of business tonight.”

Without even pausing Jason slid his hand over the countertop, colliding with her fingers, “Oh, ok, whatever, do you have the rest of it?”

Staring down at the large bundle of bills Jason had just slipped into her hands, a feeling of dread swept over her. “The rest?”

“Yeah, we’re going through it faster then we thought, but hey, business is good.” Jason was barely standing still, bouncing back on the balls of his feet.

“I don’t have it, but I can ask Maggie to bring it.” Her voice was quiet, a vice closing around her lungs.

“Ok, ok, do that, yeah do that, its busy out there, we can move most of it tonight if we hustle.” He turned towards the door, swiping a hand through his bleached hair.

“Jason….” She hesitated, wondering if it was worth it, and plunging ahead. “…..Darla doesn’t know does she?”

“That square, please.” Jason rolled his eyes and shook his head. Chuckling all the way out the door.

She stared at the wad of money for a few moments, then tucked it into her apron. She waited a full hour, until the midnight dip, when the Green Light was quiet expect for the crackling of the radio and the buzzing of the lights.

He looked surprised when she slid across the plastic booth across from him. His mouth turning from smile into a grim line as she rolled the bills into the middle of the table. “I got a hot tip for you Yoda.” Her cynical smile didn’t quite reach her blue eyes, and after 8 years in the Green Light she was finally ready to move on.