A Man I Barely Knew

I was working at the diner that I owned in Brunswick, Georgia. I bought it after my deployment to Afghanistan. It did well enough to pay the bills, thanks to my regulars.

The diner was a little ole thing. It smelled of waffles and eggs. You could practically taste the food when you walked in.

I was working behind the counter when Frank walked in. Frank had been coming in every Tuesday since I opened the diner ten years ago. I went to greet him at his booth.

“Hey, Frank!” I exclaimed.

“Hey there, Naomi,” he replied.

“The usual today?” I asked.

“You betcha,” he replied with a grin on his face.

Frank always had a black coffee, a strawberry and whipped cream waffle, and three eggs sunny side up. He read a book while he waited liked he always did without exception. Frank didn’t have a cell phone.

I whipped up Frank’s food and took it to his booth myself. I always enjoyed Tuesdays with Frank. He had so many stories to tell from his time in Vietnam and traveling around the world.

I took Frank his food. Today he was wearing a flannel top with old blue jeans and some beat-up shoes.

“Frank, it looks like you need some new shoes,” I joked with him.

“They still get me to and from places,” Frank said.

“How are you doing today?” I asked.

“I’m doing pretty good. I have an appointment up at the Hinesville VA this morning, then I am thinking of visiting some old book stores in Savannah,” Frank replied.

“What kind of books you lookin’ for?” I asked.

“Well, nothing about war stories. You know I have plenty of those myself,” Frank chuckled. “I would love to find some old mystery novels.”

“Well, that sounds like a plan!” I said.

“What are you into today besides workin’?” he asked me.

“Oh, I think I am just going to relax when I head home,” I said. “I need to call the VA myself and get my annual exam scheduled.”

“Have fun with that,” he chuckled. “You know how long the wait times are. I waited for today’s appointment for three months.”

“I know,” I sighed. “You’d think with that brand new VA center that they’d be a little quicker. But we are right beside Fort Stewart, so I reckon they stay pretty busy.”

“Yep,” Frank said. “If the government actually gave a damn, they’d give the VA a little bit more funding.”

“You know it,” I said. “Well, I’m going to let you eat.”

Frank gobbled down his food quickly for an older man. He came to the register to pay.

“Have a great day, Naomi,” he said. “I’ll see ya next Tuesday.”

“See ya then, Frank!” I exclaimed.

Next Tuesday came, but Frank didn’t show up. I found it odd because he hadn’t missed a Tuesday before, even if he didn’t go in there during his usual time. That night I went home and turned on the news. They started talking about how a local veteran and businessman passed away. It was Frank. Yet, I had no idea he was a businessman.

Later that week, two gentlemen and a woman came to visit me at my diner. Unbeknownst to me, Frank had left 20,000 dollars in my name! Apparently, he had died with a lot of money. The woman, his daughter, said that Frank had a little black notebook where he kept a list of all those that had taken the time to listen to his stories over the years and I was the first on his list. I cried.

I cried, and I cried. I didn’t cry over the money, even though it would help me buy a new house. I cried because I had known there was something extraordinary about Frank and I was going to miss him very much.

That weekend, I went to Frank’s funeral. It was a small funeral with his family and some locals that Frank had left money to. We talked for a bit about how surprised we were that Frank had left us money. Apparently, the only people that knew he was a businessman were his family.

I did buy a house with the $20.000. The portion that I didn’t use for the down payment went into the cafe. I visited Frank’s grave every Tuesday. And from then on, I carried a little black notebook listing the names of those that would listen to my stories.