The Man In The Corner Booth

I wiped globs of red icing off of my white apron while table eleven snickered over pieces of Spiderman birthday cake. Two sets of parents pulled me aside to apologize for their unruly six-year-olds, but their "kids will be kids" attitudes told me that I would not be getting a bigger tip for my troubles.

Finally, after wasting a third of a napkin dispenser on my stained uniform, I tightened my ponytail and got back to work. Jasmine, the other waitress on duty, had called out sick for the evening, leaving me to fend for myself but admittedly, I preferred to work alone. Families in Jefferson County were very frugal with their money, and I barely made minimum wage if I had to split tips.

"Bonnie, your regular is here," my manager, Mrs. Peters, informed me in an irritated voice.

Miranda Peters was a middle-aged woman who would be very pretty if she ever wiped the constant scowl from her face. I had worked with Mrs. Peters for several years, and I still did not know the first fact about the woman.

Contrarily, my only “regular” at the diner was the kindest person in all of Aspen. I looked over to see Freddy sitting at his usual booth in the corner. As always, he wore his signature washed-out overalls and spotless work boots. When Freddy caught my eye, he flashed a smile, which I knew meant, "Take your time."

"Funny. He normally only comes in on Thursdays," I remarked. Freddy came in once a week, kept me company for about an hour, and always left behind a twenty-dollar tip.

"Just get rid of the old man as fast as you can. We're already slammed, and the church rush is due any minute!"

Mrs. Peters narrowed her bushy brow at me and returned to the kitchen. She never spoke to customers unless absolutely necessary, which was probably best for business.

I did another pass through the eatery, filled water glasses, and cleared empty dishes. Afterward, I pulled out the little black book from my apron pocket and hurried over to Freddy’s table. Freddy never strayed from his usual order; however, he liked the charade of being asked what he wanted each visit.

"Well, isn't it my lucky day?" I greeted Freddy with a genuine smile.

"I felt spontaneous," Freddy teased in his low, gruff voice. He held the laminated menu in his left hand and a pair of specs in the other.

"What can I get you?"

"Just a piece of pie and a hot cup of Joe if ya have it."

"Coming right up," I nodded. Before I scampered back to the counter, I made a show of removing the purple gel pen from behind my ear and scribbling in my notebook.

The diner’s apple pie was store-bought, but it did not taste half bad, especially when smothered in whipped cream. I heated up a large piece of the pastry and took surveillance of the other customers while waiting for the microwave oven to beep. Thankfully, the children's birthday party was dispersing. Thankfully, the children's birthday party was dispersing—a couple of one-dollar bills laid on the table.

"Thank you for dining at Marty's! Come again!" I shouted sweetly.

Once Freddy’s order was deceivingly warm, I grabbed the coffee pot from the warmer and returned to his table. Typically, the diner stayed pretty quiet during the week, which allowed me to sit with my favorite customer for a spell. Freddy would often tell me ridiculous stories from his time as a handyman. He also talked about his family a lot, but oddly, I had never met a single one of his children or grandchildren.

"How's that apartment fund going?" Freddy asked me after I poured his coffee and leaned against the empty booth across from him.

I planned to save up enough money to afford a few months of rent and utilities in Kansas City, Missouri. I was recently awarded a scholarship at a coding boot camp upstate. The only thing standing in the way of me becoming a software engineer was the four-hour drive to get to class.

"Oh, you know, one day down...a thousand more to go. Think you can suffer through a thousand more pieces of pie for me?" I asked playfully.

Freddy took a sip of coffee and peered up at me with an unreadable expression. "Actually, I--" Freddy began before a screechy voice interrupted us.

"Bonnie! Customers!" Mrs. Peter yelled from the kitchen window. Her thin face twisted into a grimace as she pushed a grilled cheese and a cheeseburger onto the counter.

"I’ll be back in one second," I promised Freddy before running food to a pair of lovebirds at table twelve. Afterward, I spent ten minutes with two men who asked an overwhelming number of questions about the menu. By the time I put the new orders in, I could see a parade of cars pulling into the gravel parking lot.

"Bonnie, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Freddy admitted when I finally circled back to freshen his drink. “My uh, son came down for a visit this week.”

"That's great. Do you two have a good time?" I asked distantly. I was too busy counting heads. Mentally, I rearranged the diner's seating area and tried to solve where to place all the approaching customers. The birthday booth still needed to be wiped down, but several spots were open at the bar...

"Hey, I have an idea,” Freddy announced very suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Can I borrow that black book of yours...and your pen?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," I agreed absentmindedly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a family of four walk into the diner. I shouted a welcome at them and placed the black notebook on the table for Freddy.

Over the next half-hour, the diner buzzed like an angry beehive. I barely had time to breathe as I fluttered to each table. Some guests were understanding about the wait time, and others made snide remarks.

By the time I tamed the crowd, I had realized that Freddy had snuck out during the rush. He had a running tab with the diner, so there was no need for him to wait on a ticket.

With more people to sit, I hurried over to Freddy's small booth to clear his pie plate and mug. My black notebook lay closed on the table with the pen resting on top. Oddly, there was something wedged between the pages of the book. I abandoned Freddy's dishes and spread the cover to find a large bank envelope and a handwritten note. Curious, I quickly scanned the neat print on the inner page.

Bonnie,

I've enjoyed our visits over the years, but I came in today to tell you goodbye. My son and his wife decided to move me into an assisted living facility out of town. Truly, I wish I could hang around for a thousand more pieces of pie, but since I'm leaving, I decided to give you a cash advance.

I hope this is enough to get you started in the city.

Freddy Meeks

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. Why was Freddy going into a nursing home? Was Freddy in his late 70’s? Early 80s? Regardless, he was certainly lucid enough to take care of himself, right?

I looked out the window to see if Freddy might be lingering in the parking lot, but he was nowhere in sight. I felt a tightness in my chest, and for a moment, I thought I might cry. The diner would not be the same without Freddy. I felt defeated; all of my motivation to keep going through the motions drained away.

When I looked up, I realized that one of the customers was trying to capture my attention. A woman waved after me, but my eyes flickered to the bank envelope. It was heavier and bulkier than I imagined it would be. Curiously, I raised the flap and peered inside.

"Oh!" I gasped in shock. My legs nearly buckled, and I found myself sitting down at the table. A handful of hundred dollar bills stared back at me. After a long moment, I finally began counting. One hundred...two hundred...three...

Twenty thousand dollars! I held twenty thousand dollars in cash! I could barely wrap my head around the money. I almost pinched myself to make sure I was not dreaming. A million emotions swept through my chest; my fingers shook with disbelief. Freddy gifted me with so much more than a small fortune; he granted me a shot at my dreams in the city.

If only I could say thank you.

"Bonnie! What are you doing? Get up right now, or you're fired! Do you hear me?" Mrs. Peters scolded from over the counter.

Slowly, I stood and placed the envelope and the little black notebook under my arm. The curious eyes of diners burned on the back of my neck as my feet shuffled towards the door. No, floated. The weight of obligation and uncertainty no longer wrapped around my ankles. The only weight on my shoulder was my missed goodbye.

There were few times in my life where I felt the simultaneous ending and beginning of a chapter, but I could feel the stiff page turn.

I let the red-stained apron hang on the doorknob on my way out.