Dinner (optional)
Sleep.
Not necessarily in that order. Plus, I’m still avoiding my parents, which means I’ll wind up studying at the diner again until it’s safe to sneak into the house.
It’s a sad list, but it should get me through the next ten hours. And then, I get to enjoy the push toward the weekend. If I can get a full eight hours of sleep on Friday night, I’ll be golden. It’s a big luxury, but I need it. I can feel my body starting to shut down from a lack of sleep. The one advantage of hanging out at the diner is that I can cross off studying and dinner at the same time. The downside is that my financial situation doesn’t allow me to order anything that would constitute a real meal. Coffee and french fries it is. The Dinner of Mediocre Students. Thankfully, Matthias continues to put a lunch bag next to my water bottle. We both seem to be ignoring that fact. The coffee exchanges that have become a regular thing over the past week are short, but at least they’re face-to-face. The rest of it magically appears each day, like there’s some sort of gnome living back there who’s increasingly concerned about my well-being.
I need to stay awake until I can get home. Something that’s becoming increasingly difficultwith my heavy eyes. I swear, someone attached weights to my eyelashes. If my history professor catches me, I’ll be dead. I’ve seen how she shames people who aren’t paying attention in class. Falling asleep is a crime worse than surfing social media.
“Frank?”
“Yeah.” Shit, Carrie looks pissed. Again. That might be the only way she feels around me.
“Sorry, a bit zoned out today.”
As much as the group might not appreciate my situation, I need them. Without their help and insight, I have no idea how I would pass. This study group is made up of all the best students. If I’m going to learn how to match their academic abilities, I see no better way than being up close and part of the process.
“Okay, well, I’m checking to make sure you’ll have your work done by our study session.”
“Yes, no problem. See you on Sunday.” I grit the words out, trying to figure out when I’ll be able to finish off the work. I’ll have time to prep on Saturday and get all my notes ready to share with everyone.
She purses her lips. “Saturday.”
“Saturday?” I know I’m tired, but not so much that I’ve forgotten my schedule.
“I texted you. We changed it because Noah has a soccer game.”
“I didn’t know we had a soccer team.” Honestly, we could have a football team and marching band, and I wouldn’t notice unless they crashed one of my classes. Even then, it’s possible I’d miss the whole thing.
“We don’t. It’s a local rec league.” Really? The whole schedule changes for a hobby? “You could come. A bunch of us are going to go watch the game to support him.”
“I’ll think about it.” Right after I figure out howto get all this work done by Saturday. And when I’m going to sleep. “What time?”
“Three. In our usual spot at the back of the library.” That gives me far less time to put my notes together. I’ll need to put in a bunch of hours after work on Friday and Saturday morning to get my part of the group work done. It’ll be tight. And it completely derails my plans for sleep.
“Okay. See you then.” I don’t wait for any of them, making a beeline for my car. Squeezy sputters a few times, threatening to give out on me before she starts. “Good girl,” I say, patting the wheel a few times. Ten years isn’t that old for a car, but she’s had a tough life. Luckily, she doesn’t give me any issues on the way to the diner. I pray I’ll be able to say the same when I leave.
“Sit anywhere you like,” Esther calls when I walk in. I absolutely hate that I’m a regular here. If I’m going to be a regular somewhere, I’d much prefer it to be a bar or a club. Being a regular at a diner, especially this late at night, is sad. And lonely. The place is nearly empty, minus a few people sitting at the booths. I pick up my regular spot at the counter, taking up as little space as possible. Sure, I order a couple of things, but I don’t want to take away from customers who spend more money.
“Coffee?” Esther holds two pots in her hands, one with an orange handle and the other with a brown one.
“Yeah, regular.” I flip the mug at my spot over and push it toward her. “And french fries, when you get a chance.”
While she pours the coffee, I pull out my textbook. The last thing I want right now is to do more reading. My bleary eyes barely make out the words on the page. I force myself into study mode, pulling out a notebook, pen, and highlighters. I can do this. I repeat the mantra over and over in my head, hoping it’ll eventually be true.
I outline the first of my prescribed chapters, making notes of anything that doesn’t make sense right now. The list is quite long, even after three cups of coffee. The fries are doing a better job of perking me up. They’re straight out of the fryer, hot, salty, and delicious. I can’t always order them when I’m out, since many places share fryers across a variety of food. Realistically, it’s probably okay, but over the years, I’ve learned thatprobablyisn’t good enough. I asked the first time I came in, and they assured me that they have a separate one for fries, in part because they make so many of them.
There’s probably a statement there about the sad state of the world, but I don’t care. Fries are the cure for so many things, and I’m happy to not have to give them up.
I make it two hours and four cups of coffee before I can’t manage another minute. Books and notebooks stuffed away, I wave down the server to get my bill.
“You gonna be okay to drive, hon?” Esther asks as I tap my card against the portable reader.
How embarrassing is it to be asked that at a diner? “I’m good. I only live a few blocks away.” I remember when such concerns were limited to clubs and bars.
In the car, I turn up the radio and roll down the windows, hoping the cool night air will help keep me awake until I get home. The drive is thankfully fast, only two and a half songs long, before I pull up to the curb outside the dark house.
I stare at it for a moment, thankful that everyone’s gone to bed. It might physically hurt to stay up, but at least now I can crawl into my sheets and pass out for a few hours before I get up to go to work without any argument.
