The Box at the Diner

10:30pm. The diner had been closed for half an hour.

‘Thank the lord today is over,’ Maggie said, an unlit cigarette hanging from her mouth. ‘My feet, Ivy. My feet are bloody killing me.’

I threw her my lighter from where I sat, perched atop one of the counters that separated the kitchen from the customers. ‘I honestly thought we’d be lucky tonight.’ The weather had taken a dastardly turn. Rain had been pouring on and off from the moment I woke up, the wind had rattled the windows, and it was frighteningly cold. I’d worn two layers of tights underneath my uniform, but the damp had crawled underneath my bones, uncomfortable and aching. I’d need a hot soak when I got home.

‘People just can’t stay away from their cheap waffle and coffee combo. Can you blame them?’ Maggie lit her cigarette, took a lengthy drag, and exhaled. Her body relaxed as the smoke left her lungs. She really needed that.

‘Yes, I can. And I will blame them.’

She smiled at me. ‘Suit yourself, but staying mad won’t change the fact that you’re here tomorrow, and the day after, and next week…’

‘Oh, shut up. I’m allowed to be dramatic.’

‘Of course, hun.’ She finished her cigarette, smoked down to a stub, and tossed it in an ash tray. ‘Let’s count our tips, yeah? That always cheers you up.’ She picked up our tip jar, shook it at me like a mother shaking a rattle for a baby. She was right, it did cheer me up.

We’d made a good profit. Understaffed had its perks – there were less people to share with, even if the work was twice as mind numbing as usual. It was a much needed boost at the end of the day. A reminder of why I tortured myself with this job.

We were busying ourselves with the last of our clean up, stacking chairs and sweeping the floor, when there was a loud knock on the door.

Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘Can these people not read?’ she murmured to me, before shouting, ‘We’re closed!’

There was another knock, louder and aggressive.

‘For gods sake.’ Maggie stomped towards the door, more than prepared to tell whoever was so insistent that they weren’t going to be served. ‘I’m sorry but –‘ she paused. A moment of silence. ‘Um, Ivy, can you come over here?’

I wasn’t used to her sounding so worried. I straightened my pinny and marched over to her. It took a second for my eyes to adjust, the harsh, bright lighting of the diner a blaring contrast to the overcast night sky. There wasn’t anyone at the door, but a brown cardboard box had been left in the entry way. There was no address, no note, nothing to discern why it was left at our doorstep.

‘What should we do?’ Maggie asked, her arms folded across her chest as she stared at the box.

‘Open it?’

‘What if it’s a bomb or something!’ She took a step back and raised her hands, ‘I’m not touching it. No way.’

‘Wimp,’ I muttered, leaning down to get a closer look. The box wasn’t sealed. The top fluttered open ever so slightly with each gust of wind. I opened it, admittedly rather cautiously.

‘Oh my god.’

‘What? What is it? Is it a bomb? A severed head?!’

I turned the box to face her, ‘Puppies.’

There were two tiny dogs, one as black as the sky and one as white as the moon, asleep, curled around one another, completely unaware of Maggie and I staring at them. Tentatively, I brushed a hand across the white ones body. She stirred at my touch but didn’t open her eyes. They couldn’t have been more than a few months old.

We took them inside quickly, swaddled in our aprons to take away the chill. They were beautiful.

‘What do we do?’ I asked.

‘I can’t keep them. Landlord won’t let me have pets.’

‘I’ll take them.’ There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. I couldn’t abandon them, not when they were so helpless, and so beautiful. ‘But I need you to come home with me. I’ll ring Mum and see if she can look after them tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, course. No worries.’

We scrambled into my car, me in the drivers seat, Maggie in the passenger side, box of puppies on her lap. We’d tried to keep them warm by tucking our aprons around them, but I knew we needed to get them out of the cold, fast.

I was enraptured. These didn’t feel like normal dogs, not like any I’d met before. To arrive on a night so unusual, like a scene for a fairy tale, a fable for the ages. For the first time in a while, I felt as though I had a purpose. The world had abandoned them and they needed me.

I promised to myself, as I looked over at them snoring away, that I’d do my best to keep them safe. Now and forever.

At least I knew what to spend my tips on.

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