The Usual
Cold water hit his face for the third time, now not so shocking. He looked at himself in the mirror and what did he see? A sopping shadow of a man, that’s what he saw. A coward. His face was angular, with a nose maybe a tad too big. His mussed up hair went in many directions. If you made all the theater kids stand in a cluster during gym and threw a football anywhere near them then took a picture just as they were trying to scatter, that’s what his hair looked like now. Raymond Daine, the biggest loser to set foot in this restaurant.
“You can’t let yourself talk to her,” he said to his reflection, “remember what you said last time?” He leaned forward on the counter putting his weight on his hands, looked down into the sink as he hunched up his shoulders and spoke in a self-depreciating tone, “I like your pretty necklace, it’s…pretty.” The awkward moment flooded back into memory like a kick in the balls.
The whole situation was like a kick in the balls, the kind where the kick just barely grazes your testicles and you think for a moment that you’ll be okay. But you won’t be okay, it’s just the calm before the storm. This girl, he liked this girl. Her name was Georgia. Not like the peach, because he hated that damned expression, every stupid guy who came into the restaurant thought he was the damn king of funny when he called her that.
Her name was Georgia and she was just clocking in while Raymond Daine was sulking in the men’s bathroom. She took her time before she went out onto the dining room floor, it was 5:00 am and there were only two guys drinking coffee, not much business this early. She slipped off her coat and put it in her locker, she used the small mirror on the inside of the door to fix her hair into a bun. Her eyes had bags, but there was a spark in them still. The bags were caused by working the morning shift for two years now, not so long that she regretted working in a diner instead of finishing school, but long enough to start showing an effect on her sunny disposition. She was young, she thought, bitter hateful regret would come when she was older. “Give it time,” she said to herself with a smile. She didn’t really know why didn’t change her shift or quit. She had crappy regulars, nothing like you saw in movies or on TV. They all smelled bad, and looked bad, and told stupid jokes. They were mean people, who hated the world and they tipped poorly. Except for Raymond she thought. To Georgia, Raymond was the perfect regular. He was smart, if awkward, and looked handsome in his own disheveled way. He was sweet and friendly, and he was probably the reason why she stayed. Every morning for two years she had served him breakfast. They had never really spoken more than a handful of times.
Georgia tied on her apron and adjusted her necklace. Raymond was sitting at the counter with his head in his hands when she walked out from the back. Her voice startled him as she poured his coffee and said, “Something bothering you today Raymond?”
“Please,” he said straitening his jacket, “call me Raymond.”
“I did,” she said smiling to herself as she placed the coffee pot back into the maker.
“Oh,” he said, staring first at her, then his menu. Of course the first thing he said would be such a stupid thing. His metaphoric balls were throbbing again.
“So, what’ll it be today Ray?” she asked leaning on her forearms, “The short stack again? Or maybe the tall stack today?” She wasn’t stupid, she knew how Raymond felt; a bat, on the moon, during a blackout, at midnight could see how he felt. She would occasionally try and provoke him into following up on his feelings for her, but in her own cowardice she limited these provocations to menu suggestions. Raymond having the typical guy brain that he had would sit wishing for a sign, any sign, that Georgia had interest in him, while constantly confused about her sudden and sporadic menu suggestions.
He looked up from his laminated menu, at her. She was staring at him, nearly leaned half over the counter, waiting for an answer. He knew she was perfection. She knew he was as good as she would ever get. His eyes slipped down to her cleavage, then to her pretty necklace, and then their eyes locked. And there was a holy moment where they were no longer Georgia and Raymond. They were alive. And then he said, after the gaze broke and they both cleared their throats, “Uh… yeah, just the short stack today. I’m watching my carbs.”
“You can’t let yourself talk to her,” he said to his reflection, “remember what you said last time?” He leaned forward on the counter putting his weight on his hands, looked down into the sink as he hunched up his shoulders and spoke in a self-depreciating tone, “I like your pretty necklace, it’s…pretty.” The awkward moment flooded back into memory like a kick in the balls.
The whole situation was like a kick in the balls, the kind where the kick just barely grazes your testicles and you think for a moment that you’ll be okay. But you won’t be okay, it’s just the calm before the storm. This girl, he liked this girl. Her name was Georgia. Not like the peach, because he hated that damned expression, every stupid guy who came into the restaurant thought he was the damn king of funny when he called her that.
Her name was Georgia and she was just clocking in while Raymond Daine was sulking in the men’s bathroom. She took her time before she went out onto the dining room floor, it was 5:00 am and there were only two guys drinking coffee, not much business this early. She slipped off her coat and put it in her locker, she used the small mirror on the inside of the door to fix her hair into a bun. Her eyes had bags, but there was a spark in them still. The bags were caused by working the morning shift for two years now, not so long that she regretted working in a diner instead of finishing school, but long enough to start showing an effect on her sunny disposition. She was young, she thought, bitter hateful regret would come when she was older. “Give it time,” she said to herself with a smile. She didn’t really know why didn’t change her shift or quit. She had crappy regulars, nothing like you saw in movies or on TV. They all smelled bad, and looked bad, and told stupid jokes. They were mean people, who hated the world and they tipped poorly. Except for Raymond she thought. To Georgia, Raymond was the perfect regular. He was smart, if awkward, and looked handsome in his own disheveled way. He was sweet and friendly, and he was probably the reason why she stayed. Every morning for two years she had served him breakfast. They had never really spoken more than a handful of times.
Georgia tied on her apron and adjusted her necklace. Raymond was sitting at the counter with his head in his hands when she walked out from the back. Her voice startled him as she poured his coffee and said, “Something bothering you today Raymond?”
“Please,” he said straitening his jacket, “call me Raymond.”
“I did,” she said smiling to herself as she placed the coffee pot back into the maker.
“Oh,” he said, staring first at her, then his menu. Of course the first thing he said would be such a stupid thing. His metaphoric balls were throbbing again.
“So, what’ll it be today Ray?” she asked leaning on her forearms, “The short stack again? Or maybe the tall stack today?” She wasn’t stupid, she knew how Raymond felt; a bat, on the moon, during a blackout, at midnight could see how he felt. She would occasionally try and provoke him into following up on his feelings for her, but in her own cowardice she limited these provocations to menu suggestions. Raymond having the typical guy brain that he had would sit wishing for a sign, any sign, that Georgia had interest in him, while constantly confused about her sudden and sporadic menu suggestions.
He looked up from his laminated menu, at her. She was staring at him, nearly leaned half over the counter, waiting for an answer. He knew she was perfection. She knew he was as good as she would ever get. His eyes slipped down to her cleavage, then to her pretty necklace, and then their eyes locked. And there was a holy moment where they were no longer Georgia and Raymond. They were alive. And then he said, after the gaze broke and they both cleared their throats, “Uh… yeah, just the short stack today. I’m watching my carbs.”
posted by Campy Draper at 8:53 AM
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