The Diner that Time Forgot

A steady stream of angry, rain pellets beat down on the rusted, 1996, silver, Honda. Daniel Moore held onto the steering wheel tightly, the skin of his knuckles cracking against the cold. The glass fogged with each breath as he huddled into himself, cursing his busted heater.

Daniel, a young man just shy of his twenty-fifth birthday, was brought up by two loving and supportive parents. His best friend was his loyal dog, who played with him out in the yard of his country home. He had no siblings. He studied hard, made friends, successfully landed the job he worked so hard to secure, and fell in love.

But that was a very different Daniel Moore than the one driving aimlessly that late, September night. The young man with the contagious, if not boisterous, laugh, unstoppable ambition and positive outlook on life was now a shell of who he was the year before. No longer did he brighten the days of the people who crossed his path. Now, making eye contact with another human was rare.

A traumatic event can alter a person. It was not this way for Daniel. His change occurred gradually, like the droplets of water from a leaky faucet. His parents retired early and moved to Southern Italy, where their happiness seeped through the pictures they sent their son. Daniel moved into a small apartment in downtown Toronto with his girlfriend, Beth. But he might as well have been alone.

Daniel drove his BMW to work in his designer suit, looking sharp and important every morning. But, a weight in his chest became heavier with each day. At home, Beth spent her days on the phone, endorsing another diet pill that she had never taken. The intimacy abruptly stopped, the relationship defaulting from lover to roommate. When they first met, Daniel fell in love with the woman who always laughed at his jokes. She didn’t laugh at his jokes anymore. He stopped telling them.

Daniel Moore robotically went through the motions of the day, either feeling too much or too little. Then, Beth left. An unsympathetic note revealed that she had moved in with a friend. They were done. He later discovered that the friend that she had moved in with was her new beau. Daniel had no illusions that his relationship was perfect, but he had believed her when she said she loved him, and loved her enough to suffer. He ditched his phone after that, falling deeper into that dark place that lurked at the edges of his mind.

Challenges at work that used to be inspiring became stressful. You are not enough, whispered in his head so often that he believed it. Daniel, an employee who once showed so much potential, continuously made avoidable mistakes. Three weeks later, he lost his job.

The sobs that escaped at night were his lullaby.

On that late, September night, something finally snapped. His lease was up, he sold his luxury car and replaced it with his old, college car; a 1996, rusted, silver Honda. Without a destination in mind, Daniel drove away.

The weather shifted from unpleasant to undrivable, and Daniel knew that he had to pull over. Through the heavy rain hitting the dark, gravel road, a golden, halo of light appeared in the distance; like a lighthouse, beckoning a ship home through choppy waters. Daniel’s shoulders relaxed, his breath full and slow. The car pulled into the parking lot of an old diner. Daniel wiped the inside glass with his hand, squinting up at the flashing, red sign that read, “OPEN.” He peered down at the old clock on his dashboard. It was exactly 3 am.

With a chime, Daniel stepped through the heavy, glass door and stood with his hair pasted to his face. Droplets fell onto the carpet beneath his soaked sneaker but, despite the dampness of his clothing, warmth flooded through his body.

The inside of the diner was exactly as he assumed; a counter from wall to wall with red, plastic, worn-out stools tucked underneath. Booths spread along the windows of the rectangular building, all with red, plastic seats that matched the stools at the counter. Silver, reflective napkin dispensers and matching sugar shakers occupied each table. A checkered, black and white tile covered the floor and an old jukebox sat in the corner, gently broadcasting an old Ella Fitzgerald song.

Nothing could touch Daniel in here, the rain miles away instead of on the other side of the glass door.

An elderly man who looked past retirement age, stood behind the counter polishing a milkshake glass with a ratty cloth. He wore a buttoned-up, blue, dress shirt with rolled up sleeves that exposed his wrinkled arms. Black suspenders and dress pants hid beneath a remarkably white apron that matched the triangle, paper hat covering his salt and pepper hair.

The man looked up with bright, brown eyes that disappeared behind wrinkles when he broke into a large smile. He welcomed Daniel as if they were old friends. He was the only customer.

“Err. Are you open?” Daniel asked, searching behind him for a waitress, or other working staff.

“All day, every day,” the man replied, “You look like you could use something hot. Have a seat and I will bring you a coffee.”

Daniel nodded gratefully before making himself comfortable in a booth at the far side of the diner, next to the jukebox. He sat mesmerized by the velvety voice that danced through the diner.

The old man returned, holding a tray shaking so violently that it was a wonder the contents didn’t spatter on the floor. Daniel stood and helped the man with the smiling eyes set down the tray. It held a steaming cup of coffee and a large plate of fluffy, chocolate chip pancakes that made Daniels’s salivary glands water as the steam rose from the plate.

Daniel awkwardly began to explain that he hadn’t ordered pancakes, but was interrupted by the old man.

“I made them as a late-night snack and thought to share. No charge.”

Daniel, taken aback by his kindness, replied that he would gladly pay. When he refused, Daniel thanked him sincerely.

The old man lingered, visibly hesitant as he glanced around the vacant diner.

“Would you mind if I join you?” the old man said, “Seeing as I’m about to eat and you’re about to eat... I haven’t seen another soul for hours and it gets lonely sometimes.”

Daniel had every intention of retreating into his head but, looking at the kind man, he didn’t have the heart to say no.

The old man beamed, shuffled away, and returned with his own plate of pancakes and a cup of coffee. Just seeing the man’s happiness at having company was contagious, and it wasn’t long before Daniel and the man were in a conversation that felt as natural as if they had known each other their entire lives.

The man’s name was Joe. Daniel learned that he owned the diner for nearly three decades with his wife of sixty years. His wife recently passed away, their son was grown up with a family of their own, and his granddaughter was in school. They were busy living. After his wife passed, he opened the diner 24/7, working most nights and socializing with customers during the day.

As hours passed in that cozy booth, Daniel began to feel lighter and, for the first time in a while, awake. The light that burnt out became embers that fanned into flames. When it was time to leave, Daniel Moore was reluctant to go. He helped Joe clear the dishes, insisting on washing them when Joe again refused payment.

Daniel thanked Joe again at the door. Drastically different emotions swirled in his chest than when he had first entered.

Ten minutes later, Daniel was back in his car, travelling down the same country road. The rain had stopped, and the wet trees and grass sparkled as the headlights passed. Looking down, Daniel noticed that the clock read 3:03 am. The old clock must have stopped working.

Daniel pulled into a modest motel as a heavy fog rolled in. Checking in, a middle-aged man took down Daniel’s name and payment information before giving him his room key. That’s when he noticed the clock on the wall. It read 3:20 am.

“Excuse me,” he said to the man behind the desk, “what time is it?”

The man sighed dramatically, then looked over his shoulder at the clock on the wall.

“It’s twenty after three,” he replied with a can’t-you-tell-time judgment in his eyes.

“Is that the right time?” Daniel Moore pressed. The man turned the monitor screen to face Daniel, displaying the same time in digital form. But Daniel was still unconvinced. He knew that he had spent hours talking to Joe. Seeing the uncertainty on his face, the man behind the desk pulled out his smartphone and showed Daniel another clock, this one reading 3:22.

Daniel Moore thanked the man, took his key and exited the office, stupefied. Something nagged at him, compelling him back to his car. He sat in the driver’s seat, closing the door with a loud thump, before reaching over to dig through the glove compartment. Having found what he was looking for, Daniel Moore waited patiently for his phone to turn on. To his astonishment, the time on his screen read 3:25.

Daniel drove once again into the night, back in the direction of the diner. The fog became thicker, obstructing his vision. Deciding to turn around, he tried to convince himself that he read the wrong time when he stopped at the diner. That night, Daniel slept like a little boy after a day of playing in a field, and woke with a sense of purpose and excitement the next day. He called his parents, a conversation that lifted his spirits higher.

Outside, the sun shone and the birds sang. The temperature was warm with a cool breeze that made the red and orange leaves dance as they floated to the ground. Daniel decided to stop at the diner once more, this time during the day.

But he couldn’t find it.

After an hour of driving in both directions, Daniel began to feel despair. Had he dreamt the entire thing? Eventually, he decided to stop at a coffee shop for some breakfast. When the waitress came by, Daniel’s heart skipped at the beauty he beheld. The young girl of twenty-three smiled back at him, colour rising to her cheeks. Soon a conversation began as she took his breakfast order and offered her recommendations. Daniel stayed long after he had finished his breakfast, ordering two refills of coffee. At one o’clock, the girl announced that she was done with her shift, to which Daniel offered to buy her a coffee. She readily accepted and sat with him, time flowing by without either of them realizing. Phone numbers were exchanged, with the promise of meeting again.

As Daniel Moore was leaving, he mentioned the Diner, wondering if a local would know where to find it.

The girl’s eyes welled up slightly, clearly taken aback.

“That was my grandparents’ place,” she explained, “It was torn down years ago. They built a garden in its place, at my grandfather’s request.”

Shaken, Daniel Moore said goodbye to the girl that he could easily fall in love with, and drove back down the country road to a garden he had passed several times. He parked, turned off the engine and walked around the small park. Flowers bloomed, children played, and young couples sat cozily on benches. At the centre of the park was a memorial plaque dedicated to the couple who founded the park.

There he found an engraved picture of the elderly couple. Daniel stared back at the kind, smiling man who had brought him pancakes the night before.

The man’s name was Joe.