32
LILY
Ruth's diner smells like bacon grease and sugar. I push through the door at nine fifteen and the bell does its overhead rattle. Ruth glances up from behind the counter like she'd been waiting, which she probably had. The woman operates on a level of surveillance that would make intelligence agencies jealous.
"Birthday girl!" She smacks the counter with a dish towel, her face splitting into a grin. "Get in here. Sit down. I made you something."
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know I didn't have to. I wanted to. There's a difference and you're not too old to learn it."
She disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a plate. It's pancakes stacked tall, dusted with powdered sugar, a single candle shoved into the top at a slight angle. She sets it in front of me and lights the candle with a match she produces from behind her ear.
"Make a wish."
"Ruth…"
"Don't Ruth me. Blow."
I blow out the candle before I even have time to think of a wish, and Ruth claps twice, loud and satisfied, like she's closing a business deal. She slides into the booth across from me with her own coffee.
"Twenty-three." She studies me over the rim of her mug, her eyes sharp and warm at the same time. "I remember twenty-three. I had legs that could stop traffic and a mouth that could start a bar fight." She takes a sip. "Still have the mouth."
"You definitely still have the mouth."
"Don't be fresh."
I grin, because many people think she is a pain in the ass, but I kind of adore her.
"So."
"So."
"You and our handsome firefighter."
I cut into my pancakes with extreme focus and shove a big bite into my mouth.
“Why is this still worth talking about?”
"Sweetheart, this town never lets things go. Mabel saw you two at the store last week. She said he was carrying your bags and you were eating his fries right out of the container and he was letting you."
Ruth points at me with her coffee spoon, wielding it like a gavel. "Mabel says a man who lets a woman eat his fries without complaint is a man who has surrendered completely."
"Mabel should mind her business."
"Mabel hasn't minded her business since I met her in 1967and she's not starting now." Ruth tears a piece off my pancake without asking, completely unbothered by concepts like personal boundaries.
"You know what I like about you two?"
"I'm sure you're going to tell me."
"He looks at you like he can't figure out how you got there. Like you just appeared in his life and he's still working out how that happens." She chews, considering. "My Frank used to look at me like that. Before he went bald and started talking to the television."
"Frank talks to the television?"
"Every night. He argues with the weather man. He thinks the weather man has a personal vendetta against our zip code."
“Sounds like you need to be putting your energy on Frank instead of me.”
