A Future Left Behind

Working the night shift at the diner wasn’t a chore. Off the highway, in the middle of nowhere, we didn’t get all that much business even on the weekends.

The small town I’ve spent my entire life in had one traffic light. It only worked on the rarest of occasions, not that it mattered. Everything was within walking distance. The only time people needed their cars was for vacations or shopping trips to Walmart one town over. Those with more discerning tastes went to Target or the mall three towns over.

I started working at Shortie’s Spoon as soon as they would hire me. Sixteen: first as a dishwasher and I worked my way up to waitress. Now at the ripe old age of twenty-two I could pick up the enviable graveyard shift. Actually, I picked up any shift I could, money was tight, and my aunt’s disability check seemed to be growing thinner as the years passed. While the demands of keeping the family farm up to scratch grew more expensive. Abby refused to hear the logic of selling, reminding me that I’d been born in the house. As if that bit of history made it unreasonable to let the property go.

Instead of selling the farm and moving closer to town and my job, we found ways to cut costs. My job kept us a breath above the poverty level and I picked up extra shifts every time they became available. Which was more often than you’d think, given the small town and the lack of jobs. Most of the town's workforce commuted to bigger cities with more employment opportunities. The guys and girls I went to school with rushed off to college as soon as they had the chance. A chance I didn’t take, not when Abby and I were all that is left of our family. I couldn’t leave her alone on the farm, not when she didn’t abandon me when my parents died.

I wiped down the tables again. They were as empty as they had been when I started my double shift. I was thinking that I’d save the fun of refilling the condiments for closer to dawn. When I heard the tinkle of the bells hung on the door chime to let us - me and Billy the cook - know that we had customers. I turned and corrected myself. We had a customer.

She was elegantly dressed. All black from head to toe, including a hat that I knew from the magazines that were Abby’s one vice was a fascinator. Her heels clicked on the linoleum. As she slid into a booth I bit my lip as my eyes caught sight of the red soles of her heels. How jealous would some of the girls I’d gone to school with be if they could see this woman? She was pulling off a pair of gloves and I had to stop myself from wondering out loud if she’d time travelled. Who still wore gloves and a hat outside of the Kentucky Derby or for meeting the Queen of England?

Pulling my order pad from the pocket of my apron - not that I needed it, but the owner insisted - I pasted a smile on my face and greeted her. “Welcome to Shortie’s Spoon, what can I get for you?”

She pursed her lips as she scanned the laminated menu. “Coffee, black, please. And,” her gaze ran across the counter behind me, landing on the domes that covered the day's leftover pies and cakes. “Do you have any apple pie left?”

I nodded, knowing we had an entire apple pie untouched. “Would you like your pie ala mode, with whipped cream, or plain?”

“Plain, please.” Another nod as I wrote it down. Billy would have to make due with the grease trap until he had two dirty dishes to wash.

“I’ll have that for you in a jiff.” Truly, I realized, thinking that my ‘fun’ with the refills might come early or I'd end up nodding off in the corner. I poured her coffee first, happy that at least keeping fresh coffee was a task that kept me busy. The pie's life was over as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon, so I gave the woman a slice larger than usual. I hated to waste that much food. Adding a fork and napkin to the plate, I was back at her booth. Setting everything down so she could enjoy her treat after an evening out, or so I imagined from her attire. “There you are, enjoy.” I was turning to go, thinking that I’d start with sugar, then move to salt and pepper, when she stopped me.

“Could you sit, join me?” She sounded unsure, so I waited, thinking that she had more to say. “It’s-” A sigh slipped out and she looked down as she settled her napkin in her lap. “You don’t seem busy, and I’m alone.” Oh, company, that’s all she needed - company. So I’d do in a pinch. “If you don’t mind, Athena?”

I had a moment of shock, then I remembered I was at work and wearing a nametag. She’d read the menu, so she could read my nametag. Shrugging, I sat on the opposite bench. Since she’d asked for my company, I thought I’d ask the first question to get the conversation started. “Heading home from a party?” She had taken an appreciative sip from her coffee cup first. And then chose to take up the fork, cut through the flaky crust for her first bite, but my question stopped her.

“Why would you think that?” She took her bite, staring at me while she chewed. And I smiled. It wasn’t like it was all that difficult to figure out.

“You’re dressed for a night out,” I offered, even as she savored the apples and buttery crust. “Most women, at least the women I know, don’t wear Louboutin shoes to come to an out of the way all night diner for day old pie.” The strange woman smiled around another bite of pie. “You’re wearing a hat and gloves, your entire ensemble screams party.”

She was still grinning when I finished and she swallowed another bite of pie. “This day old pie is delicious.” Not an answer, I noticed. “And the diner is quaint, even if it is out of the way.” I glanced around, trying to see it from unbiased and new eyes, it could be quaint. “The coffee is bearable too.” She picked up the cup, wrapping both hands around it. Cradling it and it seemed as if she were letting the warmth soak into her skin. Then she took another drink, eyes closed, and sighed.

When her eyes opened they locked on mine. “How long have you been working here, Athena?”

“Since I was sixteen,” I knew it wasn’t a real answer. She didn’t have my current age, but she hadn’t actually answered my question either. She nodded and picked up her fork again. I was about to slide back out of the booth to get back to work, but once she’d taken another bite, she asked another question.

“Do you work many double shifts?” I shrugged, and her eyes narrowed. “How often?”

“Whenever an extra shift comes up, I take it.” She nodded again. “It’s not like the work is hard.” I wasn’t sure why, but I felt defensive.

“No, I guess it isn’t.” She was studying me, even as she ate and drank. As she worked through the pie and cup of coffee with purpose, appreciating every sip and bite as if it were perfection, I was startled to see her mannerisms matched my aunt’s in subtle ways - how she held her fork, the way her hands wrapped around her cup, how her lips pursed to blow into the heat of the coffee to cool it before she sipped. “You didn’t consider college?”

I snorted, undignified and unladylike though it might sound to a woman who looked like the one seated before me, her smirk told me she wasn’t that shocked by the sound. “College? College would have been great, if there was one next to the farm.”

“Ah, the farm.” She said it like she knew it and I felt like she might, strange as the idea could be. “This pie was wonderful.” She was on her last bite. “So was the coffee.” And the cup looked empty. “Don’t waste yourself here, Athena.”

The sky was lightening as she stood up, and I wasn't sure how that could be, since she’d come hours before sunrise was due. Yet as she put the bills on the table and said her goodbye, I watched as the sky lit up. Looking like God took a paintbrush to the clouds with golds, pinks, and oranges. I slid out of the bench, taking up the cash to add to the till, smiling as I realized she left me a generous tip. Once I had the money in the register and apron, I bussed the booth. Wiping down the tabletop after putting the plate, fork, and cup on the pass-through for Billy to wash. My eyes landed on a small black leather notebook on her side of the booth.

I picked it up, seeing the elastic band that held it closed, surprised by how warm it felt. Looking out the windows, I saw no sign of a vehicle, and realized that I hadn’t actually seen her drive up. No headlights had warned me of her arrival, so I rushed out the door to see if I could see which direction she went. There wasn’t a sign of her.

When I went back into the diner, Billy was staring at me through the pass-through with his eyebrow raised in confusion. Sighing I told him a customer left something behind and he shook his head and muttered about the lost and found box. I considered it, but thought that she might have contact information jotted down in the notebook.

Pulling the elastic band free, I opened the cover. The first words I saw caused my mouth to go dry.

“Athena, I guess I finally got up the courage to meet you face to face. I hope, once you read this, and you reach the very end, you won’t judge me too harshly.”

I flipped through the book, seeing page after page of writing, all in the same hand, until on the very back cover I found a small key taped. Along with an account number and a bank name. A security box was waiting for me, and my hands were shaking for the rest of my shift, knowing that my life was going to change in one way or another.

At first I didn’t want to read the journal. It was tempting, after I confronted the only family member I’d ever known about the duplicity she’d given me about my parents’ deaths, to toss the damn thing in the trash after taking the key and account number to the bank. Money made sense. It made more sense than a runaway mother who wandered into an all-night diner in her hometown just to have a less than forthcoming conversation over day old pie and a cup of coffee only to disappear and leave behind a plain black notebook to tell the tale she was too cowardly to tell herself.

Abby convinced me to read it. I can’t say it solved the puzzle. Or that I want to see or speak to her again. The key, the account, and the bank? That solved more than I care to admit. Twenty thousand dollars can do a lot to kickstart a future. Unlike my mother, however, I won’t be running away from my family. I’ll stay, and I’ll take care of Abby. Just like Abby took care of me.