I see you

Here I sit again, in the same diner, on the same stool, and my usual order in front of me on the countertop; black coffee and a slice of chocolate cake. I come here every day and every day is the same. I arrive early in the morning, just as the sun puts the moon to bed. The smell of freshly brewed coffee greets my nostrils as I sit down on the worn, red stool at the end of the countertop. It squeaks just a little as I settle in. I sit alone, quietly looking out the window beside me as the world passes me by. I watch all the people move with purpose down the sidewalk, and I can't help but wonder where they are all going. I wonder what path life is taking them on and if they are happy or... just surviving. Everyone appears to be moving to the beat of their own drum, in their own little world, and I am but a mere spectator, watching the game of life unfold right in front of me.

I remember coming to this diner as a boy with my parents. I looked over at the empty booth in the corner, and I can see a clear picture of us there. Every Saturday afternoon, we would sit in the same booth and order the most massive banana split you could ever imagine! Three spoons, of course. I swear, I can even hear my mother's sweet laugh as my father wasted ice cream on his uniform shirt, every time, like clockwork.

"I didn't know I had TWO babies," she would say as she laughed.

Sal's diner was like a second home to me, and after my mother passed away from breast cancer when I was eight, my father and I kept the tradition alive until I left for school. While I was away, he would still come here every Saturday and order that banana split, knowing it was practically impossible for him to finish. He said it made him feel closer to my mother and me, but I think he also didn't want to give up our seats! He would also pass away in my youth. I was 21 when it happened. Coming off of double shifts as a mail delivery man, he still mustered up the strength to drag himself into the diner that Saturday evening. He was either a committed man, or a very lonely one. On his way home, he fell asleep behind the wheel. The car drifted off of the road, colliding with the side of a single-family home. His car crashed through the wall of the bedroom, belonging to two sleeping little girls. By the grace of God, he was the only one to be hurt in the accident.

The bells atop the front door begin to sing as diners start to file in, most of whom are regulars. Everyone comes in and finds their usual seats. A mechanic, who I know is named Mike, because of the embroidered nametag on his shirt, climbs atop the stool next to me, as he does almost every morning, smelling like cigar smoke and motor oil. He orders the same thing every time; Three eggs over-easy, wheat toast, just butter, and a hot cup of coffee, two creams, one sugar. Every day Mike sits next to me, and every day, he doesn't speak. In fact, no one does. I do, however, catch a few confused, curious looks at the chocolate cake on my plate. Maybe it's because they don't understand how someone could eat cake so early, or because I never actually eat it. It just sits there, watching me, like I watch everyone else.

The only person that ever acknowledges my presence is Allysa. She's a young waitress working here for the summer until she heads back to college to finish her senior year. Every day she comes in, goes into the ladies' room, and puts on mesmerizing red lipstick that matches her red apron. Around her neck, she wears a long silver necklace with a clear crystal dangling from it. Something in her big, brown eyes suggests that she is wise beyond her years, and her aura is lovely. She is always kind to me. I am not exactly sure when we spoke for the first time because, all of the days seem to run together now. However, I do remember her walking over with that perfect white smile and saying, "Good morning! What can I get for you?"

It may seem so small but, it meant so much! For so long, I had felt invisible. Here I am, sixty-five years old, and everyone I had ever cared about had punched the clock before I did. You know, "went on to glory." The loneliness was agonizing at times. So that one small question, "What can I get for you?" could easily yield a complex answer but, instead, I replied, "Uh, I'll have some coffee. Black, please. Oh, and a slice of chocolate cake."

She nodded her head and went to prepare my order. Some of the other waitresses had begun to gather behind the counter near the register, whispering to each other. They pulled Allysa to the side, appearing to have a serious conversation. Every once in a while, they would glance in my direction, then go back to whatever it is they were frantically discussing. They appeared to be even more concerned when she walked back over to me with the cake and coffee pot in hand. She poured the piping hot coffee into the empty cup in front of me, ignoring the stares from her coworkers.

"They are trying to warn you about the weird old guy huh," I said with a half-smile.

She smiled politely back at me. " They don't need to worry about me, I can handle myself, and don't you worry about them either! Whenever I am here, I'll take care of you okay," she said warmly.

"Okay, thank you. My name is Stephen, young lady. It is so very nice to meet you," I said, feeling a glimpse of happiness.

"No problem Mr. Stephen. I'm Allysa."

She flashed that smile as she turned to walk away and, suddenly, I didn't feel so alone. She kept her word too. Whenever she was at work, she would stop and chat with me a while and bring me my coffee and cake. One day she asked, "Mr. Stephen, why do you order the same thing every day? You know we have other desserts too! Have you tried our famous banana split?"

I smiled and even laughed a little for the first time in who knows how long. I had stopped keeping track of time for a while now.

"I have. I used to eat it all the time growing up. In fact, that was the only thing I got here! I get the chocolate cake because it was my wife's favorite. She started working here when she was about your age. That's how we met. She passed away some time ago."

She offered her condolences and would continue to be a friend to me, listening to old stories about my childhood and telling me about her life.

Just as Mike, the mechanic, finishes his meal, he stands up and walks toward the door. As he exits, a mother and her daughter walk in. The little girl is about two years old, bouncing as she walks, causing her ponytails to go up and down. As they pass by me to sit in a booth, the little girl stops and waves at me with the biggest smile. I turn around on the stool and wave back with a smile of my own. Her mother looks at me, then looks at her daughter with a concerned look on her face. She grabs the little girl by the arm, pulling her towards their seats.

"Are you tired of that happening yet?" a voice from behind me asks, startling me. I turn towards the voice and see a short, older woman standing there. Her grey hair is in a bun on top of her head, and the brown eyes behind her stylish frames seem familiar. She is wearing several crystal bracelets on both arms and has a ring on every finger. She slowly climbs onto the stool next to me, letting out a deep sigh when she finally settles in.

"Well, are you going to answer my question, Stephen? Or keep staring at me like you've seen a ghost?" she asks directly.

I clear my throat. " I... I'm sorry. It's just, people don't usually speak to me and you um...who are you?"

"I'm here to help you, Stephen."

"Uh, Help me what?" I ask hesitantly.

"Move on," she said, looking directly into my eyes with empathy. "It's time to go."

I think to myself that this woman must be senile. I have never met her before in my life. Yet, here she is telling me she wants to help me. Yea, she must be crazy.

"Sorry, ma'am. I believe you have the wrong..."

"You're dead, Stephen," she says without blinking.

I stare at her in disbelief, now truly convinced that she has lost her mind! She sees the confusion in my eyes and says, "Listen, I know you may think I'm crazy, but I have helped hundreds of souls just like you. When someone passes away but has a strong attachment to their life on Earth, they get stuck. They linger around here, trying to still live their lives, without realizing that they have already died."

Immediately the room grows silent. Only the sounds of my frantic breathing remain. Everything around us disappears, and it's just the two of us now, sitting on the worn, red stools. I look down at my hands, turning them over. Then I look at my legs. "So you're saying I'm a ghost?" She nods her head. "But, how can I be dead if I can still see myself?"

"You can see the image of your old self, yes. But tell me this, can anyone else see you?"

My mind immediately flashes images of Mike, the mechanic, who never speaks to me, the little girl who waved at me as her mother pulled her away, and all the countless times I have been ignored. Then that red lipstick pops into my mind. "Allysa!" I scream. "Allysa can see me. She talks to me every time I see her. See, I can't be dead."

The old woman shakes her head and says, "Allysa is like me, Stephen. She can see the dead too. I know this is difficult to hear but, you passed away in your home almost a month ago."

"A month ago? How? I've been coming here every day..." my voice trembling as I ask.

"They say it was a heart attack but, I believe it was from a broken heart. You lost everyone you have ever loved, and I believe that the loneliness got the best of you. Haven't you noticed that you never drink your coffee or eat your cake? That every day is just like the last? That you don't get hungry or tired?"

Suddenly, it all made sense, and I instantly felt the urge to go somewhere. I stand up and turn towards where the front door would be. Instead of a door, I see the brightest light I have ever seen. I stare at it, but it doesn't blind me. It feels warm, like love, like home. The old woman stands beside me and says, "Go on." I nod my head and walk slowly towards the light. I keep walking until it fully engulfs me, filling me with a sense of peace. I am finally free.

...................

The old woman sits on her stool at the busy diner, this time alone. Allysa walks over to her, grabs her hand, and says, "Thank you, Grandma."

The woman smiles. "You're welcome lovebug. Glad I could help."