The Diner

Ann, a young eighteen-year-old girl, from the small town of Benson, pulls into the parking lot of an old diner. Turning of the engine of her car, she studied its run-down exterior. It reminded her of the trailer park down the road from her house. Nothing to write home about, but the sign said fresh pie and Ann sure did love pie.

Exiting her car, the cool breeze off of the nearby mountains soak through her cloths, little bumps to rose on her arms. She inhaled deeply, taking in the morning air, filled with the smell of pine and rain. She would never get enough of that smell.

She pushed her way in through the front door. Christmas bells strung across the interior handle of the door rang out, announcing her presence. Nobody gave her a second glance as she scanned the diner for a place to sit. The booths were too close to the windows and had way more seats than she needed. The main counter was appealing with the smell of coffee and the warmth of the flat grill cooking eggs and bacon.

Ann sat down on a spinning bar stool away from the other patrons also sitting at the counter. The plastic covered cushion sank to the hard base underneath from its use over the years. The Christmas bells rang as an elderly couple left to continue on with their day.

In the corner, a jukebox played an old song from way before Ann’s time. She wondered if it was any indication on how long this diner had been there. By the run-down state of the place, she guessed the jukebox had been there since the beginning.

Ann looked around, taking in the diner’s atmosphere. It was her first time out on her own and she wasn’t particularly comfortable being in such a strange place. If her mother could only see her now, she thought to herself.

The woman behind the counter was down at the other end of the counter talking to a customer, he didn’t seem very happy at the moment. Ann couldn’t really hear the conversation over the murmur of all of the other people enjoying their morning breakfasts, but the tone of the man’s voice reminded Ann of the times her mother and father would fight.

“I’ll be right with you, Hun,” the woman said, with a quick glance, acknowledging Ann.

This didn’t help the situation or the man’s temper. At this point the rest of the diner took notice of the man and his rising temper with the woman behind the bar. Ann guessed this must have embarrassed the woman, because she looked quite flustered at the moment.

Ann thought, maybe she should say something. She knew she wouldn’t like to be in that situation either. There had to be a way she could help the woman.

While pondering a way to help, Ann watched the woman fix the situation herself. Along the countertop were glass cases filled with pies and cakes of all kinds. The woman lifted one of the glass cases and pulled out a single slice of pie. She placed the piece of pie on a plate, handing it to the man. She apologized and walked away from the man as he began to happily eat his pie.

The woman walked up to Ann with a forced smile on her face. The little plastic name tag on the front of her uniform read, Becca.

“Sorry, about that, some customers can be a little difficult this early in the morning,” Becca said, slightly under her breath, to avoid the customer from hearing her.

“Ma’am, I totally understand. I have done some waitressing myself to earn a little money to travel. Customers aren’t always the nicest to the people that serve them.”

“Ah, a fellow server! What brings you to a little diner this far out of town? All we get is older couples from the farms and men from the mill.”

Ann thought how this woman reminded her a little of her older sister. Her mother wasn’t really in the picture, as she was always working. She trusted her sister as a mother, she trusted Becca in the same way. “I actually live down in Benson, a few hours down the interstate here.”

Becca smiled. “I’m familiar. My family would visit Benson as a summer vacation spot when I was growing up.”

“Well, I have never been outside of Benson; my mother was never much for leaving town. So, I saved up everything I had, and now I’m on my way to live with my sister down in Texas,” Ann said, as she nervously rubbed her finger along the worn spot on the counter, where countless meals have been placed. “I just stopped in because I saw y’all serve fresh pie.”

The Christmas bells rang again, interrupting Ann. Four rough looking men walked through the door; Ann could tell they were from the mill Becca had mentioned.

“Becca! Give me and the boys a slice of your pie right now, damn it!” a very gruff, middle aged, blond man yelled.

Ann already did not like him. She didn’t like him at all. Watching Becca’s body language, she could tell Becca didn’t care too much for these men as well.

“Like I said, very rude customers around these parts,” Becca said, through her teeth. She put on a large fake smile and greeted the men. “Roger! So glad to see you again. If y’all would go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be right over with your pies.”

With barely a grunt of acknowledgement of her kindness, the men walk over and sit at an empty booth by a window. Ann couldn’t hear what they were saying, but to her it seemed like it was something at Becca’s expense. She really didn’t like this Roger guy.

“Excuse me for a second while I get their pies,” Becca said, with a slight eye roll. She grabbed a few plates from the behind the counter.

Ann watched, as a waitress herself, with pure appreciation of Becca’s talents as a server. Four plates of pie for the men, all balanced perfectly in her arms and flawlessly delivered to the table of rude men. They didn’t even thank her for her quick service.

The other rude man at the end of the table cleared his throat and gave a sharp cough. He had pretty much finished his pie, but Ann noticed flecks of cherry juice from the pie splatter the plate and bar top from his cough. Ann looked in disgust as he coughed a few more times, more splatter, more red specks all over the counter.

It was one thing to be rude, but couldn’t he at least eat like an adult, Ann thought to herself. He probably just shoved that free pie down as fast as he could to try and get another one. Ann was almost sure that was his plan. There are others who might want some pie.

Becca, noticing the coughing, placed a glass of water in front of the man. “Here you go, Darling. Wouldn’t want you to kill over right here in the diner, would we?” she said, with a nice big smile.

Returning to Ann, Becca sighed, “So, this isn’t where you want to eat breakfast on your big adventure down south. What I’m going to do is give you this nice big slice of chocolate cake to go.”

Before Ann could say anything, Becca already had a slice pulled from its case on the counter and in a to-go container for her. Becca slid the container towards Ann with a big smile.

“I appreciate the cake, but I’m not a very big chocolate fan,” Ann protested politely. “May I get a slice of your pie? It’s kind of what I came for, and everyone seems to enjoy it; I’ll be more than happy to pay for it,” Ann said, sliding the container back to Becca.

Becca smiled. “Honey, my pie may be killer pie, but a sweet girl like you should take the cake.” She pushed the container back to Ann. “I really do insist.”

Not wanting to offend Becca after she had been dealing with all of her other difficult customers. The man was still coughing, it actually seemed to be getting worse. Maybe someone should help him. “Well, thank you very much for the cake,” Ann said.

“Now, what you want to do is just drive a few more hours down the interstate, and there is a much better restaurant you will like,” Becca said, pointing out the window and down the road.

A chorus of coughing was filling the diner from the other rude table as well. Was everyone getting sick, Ann thought. Maybe someone should do something. “I think those men need some help,” Ann said.

Becca just gave her a nice big smile and said, “They will be just fine here in a minute. You have a safe drive now.”

Ann got the hint that her stay had reached its end. “Thank you again for the cake. Goodbye.” Ann turned around and walked to the door. To her right she saw a couple sleeping in their booth. A little bit of the cherry juice from their pies was dripping from their mouths as they slept. Ann really wished she could have tried some of Becca’s pie. Everyone really did seem to like it.

Exiting the diner, Ann got in her car. She pulled out of the diner parking lot and back onto the interstate, taking the directions she received from Becca. About an hour into her drive, two sheriff cars flew by her, heading in the opposite direction. Ann wondered where they must be going in such a hurry. As a joke to herself, she thought maybe they were in a hurry to go get some of Becca’s pie. She laughed to herself, but the thought of the Sheriffs wanting pie was fleeting. Looking down at the chocolate cake in her passenger seat, she thought, If only it was pie.