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Most of the options are the same as any diner you come across. They have a large variety of breakfast dishes, the usual lunch items, and a select few dinner dishes. Nothing special or out of the ordinary.
I close the first menu and pick up the second one. This menu is different than the first. It isn’t plastic and looks to be printed on card stock. There are several dessert options.
“We have an ever-changing dessert menu,” comes a soft voice.
I glance up, making sure my hair covers my scar, and see the waitress who was swapping spit with the man a few minutes ago. “Excuse me?”
She quirks her lips up into a smile, “I noticed you looking at the menu strangely. It changes every month, so there's no sense in spending the money on laminating the menus when they'll be tossed in the trash soon anyway.”
I glance back down at the menu in my hand and ask, “Why does the menu change every month?”
“We have an ongoing contest to see who makes the best desserts. Anyone in town who wants to enter brings in a dessert sample and we pick five to sell here at the diner for the whole month. At the end of the month, the whole town votes to see whose dessert was the best. The winner gets one free meal a day for the next month.”
She’s a beautiful woman. Her sandy-blonde hair is swept up on top of her head and has a pen sticking out of the back. It looks like she just grabbed a hair tie on the go and quickly pulled put it up. Her face is free of makeup except for maybe a dash of blush and a quick swipe of mascara. She has beautiful blue eyes. Deep blue with a hint of lighter blue around the outside. They kind of remind me of what a blue moon would look like if the moon actually turned blue during the second rare full moon of the month. Her shirt is a white button-up with pleats running down the sides. On the top left, right above her breast, is a white name tag that reads “Anna.”
Seeing where my eyes are, she reaches out her hand. “I'm Anna.”
Not wanting to appear rude, I settle my hand in hers. “Bailey.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Bailey. What can I get for you tonight?” I can tell she’s an extremely happy and energetic person. She smiles the entire time she talks and bounces on her feet. I can never understand how some people are always happy and on the go. I can’t remember a time in my life when I was truly and utterly happy. My childhood was filled with verbal and physical abuse. My one saving grace that kept me sane when I was younger was knowing that I could one day escape it all. Little did I know that I would be jumping from the frying pan into an inferno. Actually, it was worse than an inferno, I jumped straight into hell. A hell that scarred me, literally and figuratively, for the rest of my life. A hell that I had no means to escape from. A hell that I was still being forced to live in.
I release her hand and decide on something simple and cheap for my dinner. “I'll take the burger and fries, please.”
“And to drink?” she asks, taking out a notepad from her apron and pulling the pen from her hair.
“Water,” I reply, trying to go as cheap as I can.
Anna scribbles on her little notepad and sticks the pen back in her hair. “I'll have it right out for you.” Still smiling, she turns and flounces away.
A little dazed from my encounter with the exuberant waitress, I glance around at my surroundings. I notice the young couple seated in a booth a couple of places over from me are staring at each other with stars in their eyes. They can’t be more than sixteen or seventeen years old, but you can tell they’re completely infatuated with each other. When I was just a few years their senior, I too thought I had found something special. After I graduated from college, it didn't take long for me to realize my hopes and dreams were all an illusion.
Looking to my right, I find one of the older men has turned around to look at me. His hair is as white as salt with just barely there hints of pepper and his skin is wrinkled and sagging. The arm he has draped across the back of the booth is skin and bones.
“Why do you wear your hair in your face like that, little girl?” he asks in a well-used and scratchy voice.
I sit there stunned and speechless at his inquiry. Not many people ask that question of me. I don't know if it’s because they don't notice, they don't care, or they don't want to offend me. This old man threw me for a loop, and I don't know how to respond. Luckily, the old buzzard’s equally old friend rescues me from coming up with an answer.
“Jack, don't ask the girl that. It's none of your business,” he scolds his friend. He can't have been more opposite in looks to Jack. Where Jack is a bag of bones, his friend has maybe fifty pounds too many, with solid grey, thinning hair.
Jack turns and looks at his friend. “What? I just don't understand why a pretty girl like her would want to cover up that face. She should pull her hair back so we can all enjoy her beauty.” He turns back toward me with his eyebrows puckered in concentration.
“Come on, you old geezer. Can't you see you’re scaring the poor thing?” says the friend. Bringing his eyes back to me, he continues, “Don't mind him, he's very simpleminded, and if he comes across something he doesn't understand he lets others know. He's never learned how to curb his tongue.”
“Hey, I take offense to that, you old goat. There's nothin’ wrong with tryin’ to bring the girl out of her shell. It's obvious she's a shy little thing and just needs a push to get moving.”
Jack's friend looks to the ceiling and rolls his eyes. When he rolls them back to me, he says, “I'm Jake and this here nosy body is Jack.”
I bite my lip, trying not to smile. I really have no inclination to get to know anybody here in this town. I won’t be here long enough to form any type of friendships before I have to move on. But these two old men are hard to resist. It’s plain to see they have been friends for a long time, probably more years than I've been alive. They complement each other. Where Jack is gruff, grouchy, and way too outspoken, the other is kind, considerate, and keeps his manners.
A little smile forms on my lips. “Hello. I'm Bailey.”
“Very nice to meet you, little lady,” replies Jake.
“Yeah, good to meet ya.” This from Jack, which he follows up with, “What brings you to our small town?”
I’m saved from answering his, once again, nosy question when Anna comes back with my water.
She places it down on the table in front of me, props her hands on her hips, and turns toward Jack and Jake's table. “Alright Jack, I won't be having you harassing my customers again. Leave this nice lady alone and get back to your dinner.”
