Lucinda's Diner

The tiled dining room and kitchen were quiet, but that was to be generally expected from a Tuesday afternoon. This was the normal timeframe when the delivery trucks would come and restock the eggs, juice, and various types of cheap bread used for toast, so naturally the staff would be in the back room prepping for the after work rush. The difference was that the trucks hadn’t come in months. They simply weren’t needed, and aside from that, it wasn’t as if there would be anyone left to drive them.

A couple of the regulars still sat silently in the corner, just like they always did, newspapers in front of them like they always were. There was dust on the shelves that sported tacky knick knacks and mold in the heat vents. But, again, this wasn’t anything unusual. The owner was far too old to take care of such things, and the two cooks couldn’t be bothered. In any case, the customers didn’t seem to mind so there was really no issue.

You didn’t go to Lucinda’s Diner for the food or the atmosphere. It was the kind of place that you went to in order to feel safe in it’s flawless reliability. You could count on the coffee being burnt, the eggs being runny, and the bacon to be unnervingly undercooked. You would never have to face anything new or different, and that’s exactly why the small town of Merrywhether loved their little diner so much. The outside world was constantly changing, but Lucinda’s would always be the same.

A dusty man with a large, military issued backpack rubbed his shirt sleeve on the smeared window to look inside. He nodded in confirmation that the diner was still exactly how he left it, tested the door, and opened it with a jolly jingle as it hit the overhanging bell. Carefully he stepped inside, scanning the dingy white dining room. Yes. It was exactly how he’d left it.

Sighing, he swung the backpack off of his shoulder and plopped it ingloriously on the ground. A light film of dust plumed around it, settling along on the bag’s bottom and on his feet. He stretched and sat himself down at the dingy bar before picking up a stray menu.

“Same menu as always, eh Mel?” he said lightly. Mel, the owner, gave him a blank stare from behind the counter, and the man laughed. “Probably don’t recognize me, do you? That’s alright. It’s been quite a few years since I came back home, and so much has happened since then, I probably wouldn’t recognize me, either.”

He scanned the laminated sheet in front of him and then looked back up at Mel. “Here’s a clue for you. I’ll have the usual. A cup of that crappy dirt water you call coffee. What do you say?” When Mel didn’t answer, he said, “Aw, don’t be like that, Mel! You know I’ll always come back and buy more of your terrible food. In fact, I came all the way from the west coast just to eat at this place.”

The man made a show of reading the menu again and then said brightly, “I’ll get one of those malt milkshakes, too. Three scoops of vanilla ice cream and the rest of it whipped cream and sprinkles. But hold on making that one. It’s for my little sister, Casey, and she isn’t here at the moment.”

Mel continued to stare at the man, so he added, “Casey. You know Casey. You have to. I doubt she stopped coming here for those milkshakes after I joined the Navy. Oh, man how she loved those things. Every day, it seemed, as soon as I’d get off work she’d come running up to me and I swear the first thing out of her mouth would always be to ask if I could take her to get a milkshake.”

The man laughed and swiveled around in his chair to take in the rest of the diner. “You know, I didn’t think I’d miss this place. I thought I hated everything about this little town. That’s why I enlisted. To get away from here. But as soon as I was gone, I found myself wishing that I’d stayed just a little longer.”

He turned his head and looked at the Jukebox thoughtfully. “Remember how Casey would always go over there and put a coin in the slot and play ‘Jailhouse Rock’? It was maddening how often she listened to that song. It was even more maddening that she insisted that I go and dance with her like an idiot every time it came on, regardless of whether she was the one to play it, or not.”

He swiveled back and smiled at Mel. “And then we’d sit right here. She’d get a milkshake that was mostly whipped cream, I’d get a terrible coffee, and then I’d describe to her just how terrible it was. I came up with something new every time. Sometimes I’d say that it tasted like rubbing alcohol, others it was pond sludge. And then she’d see the look on your face and she would laugh and laugh.”

The man looked down at his hands and closed his eyes. His body seemed to suddenly take on the weight of a hundred bricks, and he looked as though he might collapse at any moment. “And then I had to ruin it by leaving. Man, was I stupid. I let Dad get into my head, telling me that I needed to be a man. A real man with a real job. Also, apparently real men don’t feel, did you know that? So, naturally, real men just turn and leave their kid sisters sobbing on the lawn to go play soldier, without even ever telling them how much they’ll miss them.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mel. I tried to make sure she knew that I cared. That’s why I took her to this little crap shack. It was the only way I could figure out how to make sure she knew her big brother cared about her, by buying her milkshakes and giving her quarters for the jukebox.

“She told me she loved me. She told me probably a million times per day. And when I went to boot camp I got at least 80 little handwritten letters with doodles of dogs or flowers or of me in Donald Duck’s sailor suit. But all I ever did was get her milkshakes. Well, and this, I guess.”

The man fished around in his pocket for a second and brought out a quarter sized, gold, heart-shaped locket. It was scratched and had a small dent in the corner, making it impossible to close all the way, and the chain had been broken at some point, but the man held it as if it were a precious jewel. He opened it up to reveal a small photo of himself many years ago, his sullen face standing out distinctly next to the glowing smile of the brown-eyed girl sitting on his lap. He slid the open locket over to Mel for him to look.

“I bought her this at the dollar store right before I left. That, and a little toy soldier. She was so sad, you see, and so scared because I’d always been there to protect her. Not that she was ever in real danger. I spent quite a bit of time standing in front of her closet threatening to kick the butts of imaginary monsters. I told her they weren’t real and couldn’t hurt her, but she said what if the monsters never came because they knew I’d beat them up?

“So I got her this little soldier to put by her bedside, and said that I’d put a spell on it so if the monsters came it would beat them up for me. She was all about those fairy tale books, so she took this at face value. But then she was sad because she wouldn’t be able to come here to the diner. I asked her why, and she said it was because the diner only exists when I’m here with her.”

The man’s voice cracked and he spent a second pretending to look at the menu while he composed himself. He shook his head and made a sound that was half laugh half choke. “I have no idea what that even means. I didn’t understand most of what her six-year old brain came up with. But, I didn’t want her to not come here. So I got her that necklace. That way, she could have my photo and it would be like we were here together.

“She never took that cheap thing off, either. Not until she and our parents came to visit about eight months ago. The chain broke, you see, and it fell off in my living room right as they were leaving. She was devastated when she saw it was gone. I promised I’d mail it to her but…”

The man picked it up and fiddled with the broken clasp. “You know how it is… you get busy… and then you say you’ll do it tomorrow, you’ll do it tomorrow. And then tomorrow never comes because the entire world ends.”

He looked out the grimy window and sighed. “The entire time it was happening, I had this one thought. This one, crazy thought. I thought that I’d find a way to get home. I didn’t care how, but I would, and then I’d find Casey. I’d find her and I’d take her to this diner, and get her a milkshake and we’d dance to that stupid song and she’d look at me with those huge, brown eyes like I was the sun. And then I’d tell her. I’d finally tell her for the first time in actual words that I love her, and then it would all be worth it.

“And… I did make it across the country. I did find her. The problem was… they found her first.”

The man was silent for a long time, just twirling the locket in his hand and staring off into space. “It happened so long ago, probably right at the beginning, so I wouldn’t have even recognized her… what was left… except that… she was still holding a little toy soldier.”

The man sighed and let out a long, agonized breath. “I thought leaving would be worth it, Mel. I’d make something of myself. But look at me now. I’m sitting in an abandoned diner talking to a rotted corpse. Who would’ve thunk it?”

The man suddenly got up and slung the bag over his shoulder. “Thanks for the coffee, Mel. I’m sorry I don’t have any money, but I’ll tell you what. Keep this locket for me, will yah? Keep it here on this counter where we used to sit. And if… if you happen to see Casey in whatever afterlife you may or may not be in, tell her that her big brother loves her, okay? And tell her I’m probably going to have to be away a bit longer. I have to kick the butts of some monsters who stepped out of line. But tell her I’ll come find her after, so she should save a dance for once I get there.”

The man set the locket down gently on the counter and, without looking back, stepped one last time out of Lucinda’s Diner, and disappeared down the street by which he’d come.