The Diner

Jim sat at the counter, same as every Monday morning. The diner looked the same as it had for the past 70 years, and would be the envy of a modern restauranteur trying to emulate the retro style, but in truth was simply unchanged due to a lack of imagination or desire on the part Leo, the owner. And his father, and his father before him.

Jim picked up his coffee, black, no sugar, and blew on it, his eyes focused on the shimmering black surface before darting to Edna, his usual Monday morning waitress. Her coal black skin in marked contrast to her white uniform (and why do the people most likely to mess up their uniform wear white, anyway?), a pleasant smile for every customer coming in. He figured her to be 10 years younger than his 60, but he had never been good at guessing and was loathe to ask.

His eyes dropped back to the coffee, then over to his ring finger. He still wore his wedding band, even though his wife had passed more than a decade prior. Still in her 40s, beautiful as the day he met her on the Crescent Hill Elementary playground. They were in the baked goods aisle of Piggly Wiggly when she told him to go back and get some fresh strawberries. He would never find out why she needed them, never know if she sent him away because she felt her time ending, or if she had no clue what was about to happen. But he found her lying next to an opened 5 lb bag of sugar, the granules still running onto the floor next to her, right there in Aisle 8.

He called for help, someone called 911, the paramedics arrived as quickly as if they had just parked in the front row and were wandering in to do some shopping when Jim's wife hit the floor. According to the doctors, if she had collapsed in the ambulance, hell, on the operating table, there was nothing that they could have done to save her. His father, now gone himself for 6 or so years, sighed and told his son "Sometimes," the old man had offered, "it's just your time. Nothing to be done for it."

Jim became a bit of a recluse for the next couple of years, then started going to the diner on Monday mornings, on his way to the hardware store he ran. When he sold the store, and decided to retire, he started spending a little more time there, just something more to do than watch the world go by from his kitchen window.

He started noticing Edna about a year ago. She was never married, rumor had it that she was left at the altar and had never recovered. Another rumor was that she was of the other persuasion, not that there was anything wrong with that, bless her heart. Whatever the reason, she was seriously unattached and currently the only person working Leo's morning shift at the diner.

The usual crowd was in the diner, all 5 of them. It was Jim, the brothers Franklin, Johnny Moore (who had been hurt as a child and while his body grew, his mind never did), and Sheriff Conroy. Sometimes, there were up to 4 or 5 others who rotated in and out, but that was the core Monday morning group.

Jim glanced up at Edna again, saw her look at him and smile. Not a fake, painted on smile. Not a predatory smile, either. Just a pretty, open smile that made his heart beat just a touch faster, that made his skin flush, which was embarrassing as pale as he was, the flush could turn his face the same shade as a beefsteak tomato.

"Edna," Conroy yelled, which caused no small amount of consternation as no one yelled in the diner, "turn on the TV. HURRY!" Edna gave him an odd look, then did as he asked. No need to ask what channel he needed, the BREAKING NEWS banner meant it would be the same on every channel.

"Again, we repeat, we have no confirmation from the White House, but reports are that Russia has launched its nuclear missiles at the US just moments ago. We are urging everyone not to panic, as this is not an official notice from the White House, but there have been multiple uncorroborated reports that say that Russian missiles have been launched..."

"Fuck," one of the Franklin brothers (John? Dewey?) said. "Damn, what...what are we going to do? Sheriff, what do we do?" Sheriff Conroy didn't answer, running for his car, hoping to get home in time to tell his wife he loved her.

Edna looked around, panic setting in. She wasn't college educated, but she knew this was bad. Very bad. Potentially catastrophic. The brothers were shaking each other, trying to figure out what they were going to do. The sheriff's car spit small rocks against the diner window. Johnny was trying to figure out what was going on. And Jim...

Edna's gaze fell upon Jim. He was holding up his left hand, looking at his wedding ring. She had, of course, heard the story of his poor wife, and found it sad and admirable that he still wore his ring. He had a slight smile on his handsome face, a face that she had been looking forward to seeing each morning. His light blue eyes moved from his hand to her face.

"I'd like a piece of pie, please. Apple, with the streusel on it, if you have it?"

The brothers had stopped yelling and looked at Jim as though he had peeled off his skin and revealed himself to be a human sized spider. Edna blinked twice. "Sorry?"

"I'd like a piece of pie, if you have any."

"Yeah," she stuttered, not quite understanding how this conversation was going. "It just came out. We got it ready for the lunch crowd."

"Perfect," he said, the smile spreading. "Can you get two slices, with vanilla ice cream? Right Johnny? Warm pie is always better with ice cream."

Still not clear on what was transpiring, but very clear on the concept of pie with ice cream, Johnny agreed, grinning and settling down on the stool to Jim's right. Jim smiled at Johnny and clapped a hand on his shoulder. He noticed for the first time that they were both wearing blue jeans, a red flannel shirt (Johnny's had a cross hatching of blue with his red, Jim's was gold), and sneakers. Couldn't have planned it much closer.

Edna returned with the two slices of pie, centered perfectly on a thick white plate decorated with circles of green on the rim. The ice cream had barely had time to melt.

"If you wouldn't mind," Jim looked at the seat to his left. "Please?" Bewildered, Edna walked around the counter, and sat next to Jim.

"You see, the way it looks is this: if there was a nuclear launch, and we are the target, we have between 10 to 20 minutes left. One second we'll be here, having pie and ice cream, and the next, gone. OR. There was a nuclear launch but we aren't the target. But the fallout will get us and it will make the next 10 plus years hell. So I figure this might be the last chance to have some amazingly delicious pie." And he took his fork, pushed through the ice cream, into the pie, and put the ice cold and warm gooey mix in his mouth. "Finally, it's a false alarm, in which case I see no need to get all upset."

Listening to him, Edna relaxed. He was right. Either they were dead before they could get home, or they were enjoying the last chance to be as they were, or it was nothing to worry about. She looked at him, watching him enjoy the pie with his eyes closed. When they opened, he looked over at Edna and smiled. He turned on the stool so they were face to face, noses maybe 6 inches apart. He started speaking, quietly.

"When my wife died, I wanted to go with her. I was waiting for my time. I just...survived. Day after day. Then, one day, I came in here," indicating the diner with the fork in his hand, in case anyone was unclear where 'here' was, "and I saw you. I have wanted to talk to you for so long. I would ask Sara, my wife, if she could just give me a sign. Something that said that she was okay with it. I figured this," pointing to the television, "was about as good a sign as I was going to get."

Edna looked at Jim. Thought about what he said for about thirty seconds. Took the fork from his hand, and dug into the pie. "I noticed only two slices."

Blushing, "Yeah. I was hoping..."

"Mmm, this IS good."

Jim said a silent thank you to his wife, promising to always love her and keep her in his heart. He wasn't sure where this was going to go with Edna, but it felt right. He slipped his left hand in her right, watched as she carved off a slice of ice cream and pie and moved to feed it to him.

Life couldn't get better.