our windowsill

My shift was, regrettably, eventful.

The normal rundown went as well as expected, working in the food industry. I made some decent tips. I even got to make a whipped cream pup cup for a service dog sitting under a booth, something I don’t get to do very often. It was all going smoothly until Thomas walked through the door.

I didn’t even see him come in, but something in my gut knew it was him. I heard the jingle of the door and felt the pit of my stomach gape, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe.

Why am I so scared? I thought, chiding myself as I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. He’s never once hurt you, raised his fist or anything. Plus, we’re at the diner now. No closed doors here.

But I couldn’t help from feeling the wobble in my knees as I turned and saw him. His eyes locked with mine instantly, and his piercing gray eyes were dark with intention. I pinched myself to stop the fluttering in my stomach and met his gaze, unwavering, until he looked down and sat at an empty table. Since our rush had just fazed out, the other waitress, Sally, was taking her break. I had to take his order. There were only a handful of people there; an elderly couple, a young man about my age, and some drinking buddies at the end of the bar. And, of course, Mr. Simmer in the kitchen, who wasn’t paying attention.

“What can I get for you?” I said coolly, my pen poised to jot down his order.

“You know what I always get,” he scoffed, leaning back in his chair. I could tell he was trying to stay dominant, his stupid little smirk revealing his annoyingly straight teeth.

“Well, maybe you want something new,” I shot back, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “We all get tired of the same old thing after a while.” That was a harsh dig, but I didn’t particularly care. All’s fair in love and war. His cocky smile dropped.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he said, his tone giving me a final warning. I, unfortunately, didn’t pick up on the hint.

“It means there’s more things on the menu that you can try, Thomas, Jesus. Forget I said anything,” I sighed, scribbling his regular order of sausage links, white toast and black coffee on the pad. I jumped about a foot in the air when he slammed his hand down on the table. I could feel the blood rising to my face as the diner fell absolutely silent. All eyes were on us now. I looked up from Thomas’ order and glared at him. Where was I getting all of this courage from?

Thomas met my glare with… hurt. His eyes were shining with an anger and sadness that I had never seen. I almost believed it, until I remembered who I was looking at. Thomas was a chameleon. He could pretend to be anything he wanted to be, embody whatever person he needed to fit his narrative. He could be anything, except honest.

“Are you really going to treat me like we were nothing? Like I’m nothing?” he choked. I could feel the tension rising like steam in the diner. Mr. Simmer had turned off the gas in the stove, and the building was holding its breath. All that could be heard was the light bluegrass playing from the jukebox, but even that sounded like it was echoing from within a long tunnel.

“This isn’t nothing, Thomas. This is a breakup, and I’m at work. Do you want to order, or do you want to leave?”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Then I’ll have your coffee out in a moment.” I said flatly. Immediately, I turned on my heel and beelined behind the counter. I refused to look back at Thomas, but I saw out of the corner of my eye that he wasn’t getting up to move. Dread filled my veins like poison, and I allowed myself a shaky breath. As I poured his cup of coffee, the young man at the bar cleared his throat. I glanced at him, careful not to look like I was giving him any real attention. I knew Thomas was still staring me down, and he hated when I gave the time of day to anyone else but him. Not that it really mattered anymore, but something told me Thomas wasn’t going to leave this diner without his pound of flesh. Somehow, it always came down to me to navigate his stupid insecurities.

The young man caught my glance, and I was taken aback by his face. He was wearing a hoodie, and beneath the hood I could see his right eye was swollen shut and deeply bruised. His other eye looked sunken and tired, but alert, and staring straight at me.

“Bless you,” I murmured to his clearing throat, looking back down at Thomas’ coffee.

“Thanks,” he whispered, almost like he knew we were both on thin ice now. Something about his black eye told me he understood.

I felt a sudden surge of anger. This was ridiculous. I broke up with Thomas so I wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore. I wasn’t his girlfriend, and it wasn’t my job to keep his ego under management. It was never supposed to be my job in the first place. I knew Thomas enough that he was too cowardly to do anything but put on a show. I also knew that if he decided to somehow grow a pair overnight, Mr. Simmer was there to make sure nothing funny would happen on his property. With all of that in mind, I met the boy’s eye again with a smile.

“I’m awfully sorry, sir, but have you been helped yet?”

His eyes widened in surprise, and his purple eyelid revealed a deep redness where there should have been white. Someone had really walloped him.

“No,” he responded, his voice hoarse. “But that’s alright, I can wait. I don’t mind.”

“Darlin’, it’s my job,” I chuckled. “I can take a couple orders at once. What can I get for you? Do you need a menu?”

The room relaxed, and the light chatter eased back in. The young man’s shoulders remained tense, but he looked at me with a wary trust that I felt a little undeserving. I gave him a menu and turned to Mr. Simmer to give him Thomas’ order. He glared at the order, and I laughed as he grabbed it like it was rotten meat. I turned back to the boy with Thomas’ coffee.

“I’ll just be a sec, let me know if you need anything when I get back.”

He smiled at me with a nod, and delved back into the menu.

As I made my way back to Thomas, I could practically feel the cloud of misery hovering over him. I refused to let it permeate me again. Setting down his coffee, I grinned at him with the fire of a thousand suns, the gods and goddesses of customer services smiling down upon me. It must have felt like rug burn in his soul, because he curled his lip like a dog and scoffed at me.

“Who’s that?” he jerked his head at the bar, gesturing to the hooded boy. I shrugged.

“A customer,” I said simply.

“Why are you talking to him?”

“It’s my job to take his order,” I said, laughing. He’s still playing this dumb game, but now I’m free to treat him like the idiot he is.

“Why are you smiling and laughing with him? You know him, don’t you?” he said, raising his voice. I felt myself shrink. Dammit.

“I said, I don’t know him. I am at work. I have to interact with everyone here, whether you like it or not. And it doesn’t matter anymore, because we are not together, Thomas!” I said, my voice raising to match his. I tried to hide the quake in my voice, but I could feel my throat tightening with tears of frustration. Here we go again.

Thomas stood up. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, I felt a presence behind me that made the color in his face fall.

“It’d be best if you left, Thomas,” a voice growled behind me. I turned to see Mr. Simmer standing at my shoulder. His normal cheerful disposition was replaced with the physical embodiment of a threat. Thomas glanced at me, and then Mr. Simmer, and shut his gaping mouth. I felt my cheeks redden. I should have been able to hold my own.

“Forget about yer bill, boy, and leave,” Mr. Simmer asserted. “I don’t care for yer money or yer business here anymore. Off with ye, now.”

Now Thomas’ face was red. He stood, kicked the chair out of his way, and shouldered past me. Before he got to the exit, however, his gaze landed on the boy at the bar. Before Simmer could snag him, Thomas lurched toward him and gripped the young man by the hood, yanking it down and pinning him against the bar. The old lady gasped, and the drinking buddies stood. I pushed past Mr. Simmer, but froze as I saw the blade flick out of Thomas’ jeans pocket. The boy was terrified, hands clamped down on Thomas’ wrist, practically begging for mercy.

“If I see you around, you’re done,” Thomas growled. The boy said nothing. With one more glance around the diner, and a final, haunting glare at me, Thomas walked out the door. The bell chimed, and the restaurant was silent.