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Deirdre Griffin - New York City |
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We walked aimlessly for a while, my arm tucked into his elbow. The air had an autumnal chill and when the wind blew it was downright cold. I shivered and my teeth chattered. “Cold?” Max asked. “We can go back, if you want.” “No, not at all.” Cold or not, I was enjoying being out in the open air, surrounded by the bustle of the city. I’d missed this place, I realized then, even without remembering it. And, I glanced up at Max and smiled, I’d missed him. Maybe he was telling me the truth. Now that I didn’t feel like I was being held his prisoner, I could acknowledge that I almost loved this man. Something in me responded to him, I certainly felt completely comfortable in his presence. “But if you want to get a cup of something hot, I won’t argue.” We crossed the street and arrived at a small diner, nothing upscale, I noted, but clean and presentable. “Here?” “This is fine, Max.” The hostess sat us in a corner booth. “Coffee?” she asked, setting two mugs in front of us. Max looked over at me, “Coffee would be great,” I said as she handed each of us a menu. “Your waitress should be over in just a minute. Enjoy.” Opening the menu, I glanced over their offerings. I couldn’t eat any of it, but there was something comforting about the thought of a slice of warm apple pie. “Are you getting anything?” Max shook his head. “I’m not particularly hungry, my love, but you get something if you want.” I laughed. “That would be interesting. What would I do with solid food?” Then I stopped. What if he was right? If I were becoming human again, I could eat. But at the thought, my stomach lurched. “No, I think I’ll pass this time. I could use the coffee, though.” Max turned around and motioned to the waitress behind the counter. “Miss?” he said with a trace of impatience in his voice. “We’d like that coffee. Now, please.” He turned back before the woman moved. She glared over at us, looked away and then quickly looked back, staring intently at me. Her eyes opened wide and, as odd as it might seem, she appeared frightened. It was as if she remembered me from somewhere and no place good, I imagined. I wondered briefly if she would feed me the same line as Max had been dealing out, would she try to reinforce the story as Derek had? Or did she know a different truth? Without taking her eyes from me, she jerked a pot from the burner behind her. I heard the sizzle of the coffee on the hot surface. Then she squared her shoulders and hurried in our direction. As she approached, I took more careful note of her appearance. She wasn’t particularly imposing. Slight in build she had short, dark hair and a pert little nose. She carried herself badly, though, as if slumping over could hide the cheap uniform she wore. Something in her attitude made me think that she’d not been working as a waitress for all that long. As she came closer, I could read the name embroidered on her breast pocket. “Good evening,” I said with a smile, looking up to where she stood in front of our booth. Her eyes still hadn’t left my face and she extended the pot to pour but stopped short of the mugs. “I think we’ll just have coffee for now, Terri, thank you.” With the sound of her name, Max’s head shot up from his study of the menu. The movement caught her attention and when his eyes met hers, she gave a gasp of surprise. Terri stood totally still, eyes opened wide and staring, first at him, then at me and then back to him. That she knew Max instantly was apparent. She gave him a smile that turned into a sneer. “Coffee?” she said, her voice rising above the noise around us. “Coffee?” Her voice quivered and the range of emotions reflected on her face was fascinating. Rage, righteous indignation, fear, all of these flickered in and out of her eyes and her mouth twisted up into a snarl. “Coffee? I’m so very happy to oblige, you son of a bitch!” And she poured the entire pot of steaming coffee into Max’s lap. |