ANDY'S

It was 8:05 PM when I pulled off the highway to get dinner somewhere. I was on my way to California, without a job prospect, for a dream I’m afraid of. I am a writer. Spontaneity and instability are a part of the package. Right?

This exit had a gas station and a 24/7 diner across from it named “Andy’s” that looked like the set for a late 1960s movie, especially since most of the cars were from the 60s, and still in excellent condition. I decided to get food first and then gas. My intent was to be off the road for only an hour.

I entered Andy’s and was greeted by the song “Come Together” by the Beatles playing on a record player. An aging hippie smiled at me from behind the counter.

“Welcome to Andy’s!” He said.

“Thanks. Good song,” I smiled back.

“Right? Just came out 2 days ago. I’m gonna work with those guys someday.”

I laughed in response. They were really into the retro theme here. I looked around at the assortment of people that filled the diner. There were about 15 other customers, each one sitting alone and looking like they had come from a different decade. This town off route 66 was certainly different than where I grew up in suburbia.

“Sit anywhere doll and Anna will get your order,” he chimed in.

I spotted an open seat at the end of the counter and grabbed a menu. A middle-aged woman approached me with the nametag “Anna.” She had permed blonde hair, pulled off to the side in a scrunchie.

“Hi! What can I get ya?”

“Can I get a coffee and the breakfast special?” I responded. She nodded.

“Is this a retro-themed diner?” I asked.

Anna looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Just cause…the guy behind the counter was saying the Beatles’ song came out a couple of days ago…”

“Oh, Bill?” She lowered her voice. “It’s my first day working here but I think something’s wrong with him in the head. I’m only here for a couple of weeks until I can save enough money for California. Going to be a movie star.” She smiled longingly. I was surprised at her dream. She was reaching 50 and becoming a star now seemed far-fetched.

“Good luck” was the best response I could muster.

As I was finishing my last piece of bacon the bell on the door dinged. I looked up and saw a handsome guy, standing at the entrance, staring at me, like I didn’t belong there and like I carried an answer he had been searching for.

“Welcome to Andy’s!” Bill said. The man looked around, taking in the environment.

“Sit anywhere and Anna will get your order!”

There was an open seat next to me and he made his way to it. I smiled as he sat.

“Hello.” He smiled back.

“Hello.” I liked his smile.

Anna came up and asked me if I was ready for my check. Five minutes ago, I would have been ready to leave, but instead I asked for a refill of coffee.

“And what can I get you?” She asked the man.

“I’ll get the ‘66 Omelet Special’,” he said. Anna wrote down his order before he finished saying it.

“You come here a lot?” I asked, curious.

“No. This is my first time,” he replied.

I laughed, confused. “How did you know about the special? You didn’t look at a menu.”

“Yes, I did.”

He hadn’t.

“So, what are you doing here in the middle of nowhere?” He asked warmly.

“Just stopping off on my way to California.”

“Me too!” His eyes lit up. “I got this small writing position at the L.A. Times. Probably more of a gopher job, but it’s a start.”

“Cool! I’m a writer too!” I hoped he wouldn’t ask me about my nonexistent job. Instead, he pulled out his iPhone 4 and tried to turn it on. Nothing happened.

“Ugh, it died,” he said.

“Maybe it’s too old!” I said, joking.

“I just bought it.” He replied, puzzled, as he looked around the diner.

“Do you have a job in LA?” He asked when he turned back around. My heart started pounding as I searched for a smart answer.

“Well I’m still weighing my options…” I stopped myself. I was done impressing people. I was starting over and currently in the middle of nowhere with complete strangers.

“Actually, no. I have no job lined up and am freaked out beyond explanation. But here I am, still doing it.” That felt good.

He grinned, impressed with my honesty. “At least you’re doing it. Some people never do, just talk about it.” His tone implied there was more to his story. Instead of explaining, he called over Anna.

“Can we get a piece of blueberry pie?” He asked.

Anna seemed surprised as she handed him a piece of pie.

“Why do you like writing?” He took a bite of the blueberry pie and motioned for me to take the other fork.

I don’t remember what exactly I said, but I will always remember the result. I had never articulated my love for writing in that capacity until that conversation with him. Time seemed to slow or stop or disappear as we took bites of pie and discussed books, words, life, love and everything in between. This was my first feeling of luck, that I was doing something right by moving out to L.A.

When the sun peaked through the dusty blinds, I realized that time had progressed, and I had bailed on my intention of only staying one hour.

“I should get back on the road.”

“You can’t drive after staying up all night. Get some sleep and meet me for dinner at 7pm. We can talk more about our dreams. You can drive tomorrow,” he said. I couldn’t argue. I had no where I had to be, and it felt comforting to talk about writing and plans instead of doing them.

I slept in my car until 5PM and then drove across the street to get gas and freshen up.

The smell of smoke and licorice accosted me as I entered the gas station. It was coming from the man behind the counter.

“Hi, I’d like to fill my tank.”

“Were you over there?” He tilted his head toward the window that had a view of the diner.

“Yes...” I was hesitant to give this stranger my information.

“Be careful,” he whispered. “Strange things over there. You’re the first new car parked there in years.”

“Years?” I asked, mockingly.

“Every day at the same time, the same cars pull up.” He looked at his watch. “It’s 5:22 PM. A 1976 black Cadillac will be pulling up in one minute.”

I hurried and handed him my money. I didn’t want to be alone with him. As he handed back my change a 1976 black Cadillac pulled up. He looked at my reaction.

“Some people are punctual,” I said covering up a lurking feeling I had been suppressing.

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I went there once when I first started working here a few years ago. Everyone was stopping by for the night on their way to California. I went again last month, and the exact same people were still ‘stopping by for the night’ on their way to California. Nothing had changed. Gave me the creeps.”

This man was giving me the creeps. “Do you have a bathroom around here?” I asked.

“Outside around the back. Now don’t get stuck there,” he laughed.

I used the bathroom to wash my face and wash away the strangeness of that conversation.

At 7pm I made my way back to the diner. It was an hour earlier than I had arrived the night before, but I couldn’t help noticing that a majority of the same cars were in the parking lot as last night. It’s a small town, people like routine, I told myself.

When I entered, Bill smiled big and I felt reassured at his warmth.

“Hi! Welcome to Andy’s!”

“Thanks! Glad to be back!” I said.

“You’ve been here before? Righteous.”

“You’re hilarious,” I said. He stared at me blankly.

“I was here last night.”

“Really? I feel like I would have remembered a babe like you,” he said, flirtatiously. The man could be my grandfather, but he was acting my age.

I sat at the same spot as before. When Anna approached, I noticed she was wearing the same outfit as last night. Must be her uniform.

“Hi Anna!” I said.

“Do I know you?” She asked, suspiciously.

“Yes, I was here last night.”

“I wasn’t here last night. It’s my first night working here. I’m only here for a few weeks before I head to—"

“California, to be a movie star.” I finished her sentence, which she did not like. She looked me over and got straight to the point: “What do you want?”

“I’m waiting for someone,” I replied.

She laughed scoffingly and walked away. I waited thirty minutes, but he didn’t show. Eventually I decided to order to-go and get out of this place. As I was waiting for my food, Bill made an announcement.

“Alright everyone, I’m playing for you the newest, greatest song that just came out two days ago and it’s my first time hearing it!” He played “Come Together” again.

“You played this last night,” I murmured, frustrated. I don’t like games and whatever was happening felt like a game. Bill kept singing the words verbatim.

“If this is your first time hearing it, how do you know all the words?” I asked, calling out his bluff. He looked at me, genuinely concerned. Whatever was happening here, it wasn’t a joke.

“I…I don’t know… but Someday I’m gonna work with them,” he fantasized.

I was on my last bite of food when that familiar bell rung again. The door opened and there he stood. He looked at me with the same intensity as the night before, like I didn’t belong here. He sat at the seat next to me, not because he was meeting me, but because it was familiar.

“Where have you been?” I asked. I wasn’t mad at his tardiness. I just wanted logical answers to explain this illogical situation.

“Have we met?” He asked. When his eyes looked into mine, I knew he wasn’t lying. He was searching for an answer, too.

“Yesterday. We talked all night,” I said.

“I’m sorry, must’ve been someone else. I just drove here…I’m driving to—”

“California,” I finished his sentence.

Anna walked up, eying me distrustfully. “What can I getcha?” She asked him.

“He’ll take the ‘66 Omelet Special’,” I said.

He looked at me with a flash of recognition that quickly disappeared. “Yes…good guess?”

“You’re on your way to the L.A. to work for the Times; you’re hoping it’s not too much of a gopher job, but it’s a start.”

“What’s going on?” He laughed, looking around.

“That’s what I’m wondering,” I replied, not laughing.

“Do you know her?” Anna butted in.

“No…” He said, rifling for truth.

“I think it’s time you leave,” Anna ordered.

“I think you’re right. I need to get out of here.” I stood and looked at him. “You need to leave too. Get back on the highway.”

“I…I’m unsure what’s happening here but I’m not driving all night. I will tomorrow.”

“Some people just talk about their dreams while other people do it,” I said.

That flash of recognition came across his face again and dissolved as fast as a firework. He turned to Anna. “I’m finishing my drive to California tomorrow. Got a job at the L.A. Times.”

“Ah, really? I’m heading there in a couple of weeks, once I save up a little money,” she replied. I walked out of the diner as they continued to talk about their dreams, as if I had never even been there.