Clinging To The Dream Of What Might Have Been

"Can I get you anything, honey?"

We sat in a 70's style diner on the outskirts of Belleville, crammed awkwardly into a 2-person booth usually reserved for couples. The diner was empty, except for a business man on the complete other side of the diner, who was typing away on his laptop, and Frank and me. If it weren't for the waitress, and the occasional profanity from the businessman, it would have been completely silent.

I looked from the dingy menu up to the waitress. She seemed roughly 50, but still wore the light pink dress with a white apron splattered with ketchup, mustard, and God only knows what else, and tied her thin, wiry hair up into pigtails. She chewed way too much bubble gum, smelled like cigarettes, and was overweight. I was surprised the roller skates she wore as part of her uniform didn't come out from under her and send her to the floor with a loud bang. Compared to her, Frank was a twig. Not even a twig, perhaps a blade of grass turned sideways.

"Oh, um," I bit my lip, turning back to the menu and scanning it over again, even though I already knew everything on it, "Just a hamburger, please. No onions."

"Anything to drink?" She grunted as she wrote.

"A coke, please."

She finished writing and skated away, the wheels on her skates giving way a little bit with each gliding step she took.

Now that she was gone, I'd have to talk to Frank.

I silently cursed the woman.

"So..." Frank started.

I looked over at him. He was hunched over the small table at the booth we sat at, and had his coffee mug cradled in his hands as though it were the most precious thing he'd ever beheld. He stared at the black surface of the liquid, swirling it slightly. He didn't bother to add cream or sugar, but began stirring it anyway. I sat across from him, eyeing him warily. I didn’t remember him ever drinking coffee.

All he had ordered was coffee. He never ordered just a drink.

"How have you been?" He asked, looking up from his coffee for a split second.

"Fine." I answered flatly, fingering the many sugar and artificial sweetener packets in the small holder at the table, "You?"

"Alright."

I raised my eyebrows amusedly, and ripped open a packet of Sweet-N-Low. No one actually uses the Sweet-N-Low, anyways.
Alright? Psh. You're a freaking rockstar.

I opened my hand, palm up, and held it out, pointing at the little black plate Frank's mug was resting on. He didn't say a word as he moved his mug and slid the plate across the table towards me. He simply watched curiously as I dumped the contents of the packet, and about 4 more, onto the plate and shook it lightly so that the plate was coated with a thin layer of sugar-like crystals.

Ignoring the silence, and Frank's expectant stare, I used my finger and began drawing things in the sugar. First a sun, with beams coming off of it and a smiley face. Then a heart with an arrow through it.

The woman returned with my soda, and set it down in front of me, making a considerable amount of noise. "Here ya go, hon." She grumbled. I winced at the unexpected clamor that seemed to upset the whole diner, even if it was empty.

"Thank you." I unwrapped my straw and plunged it between two ice cubes, stealing a glance back into the kitchen. Now that he was done cooking my food, the chef pulled out a game and started playing.

As soon as the waitress was gone, I resumed my sugar drawings, taking the occasional sip of my soda. I was halfway through drawing a star when Frank cleared his throat.

"Let's cut to the chase..." He sighed.

"Aww, but Frank!" I fake whined, "Can't we beat around the bush just a little bit longer?"

He didn't even chuckle as he took a sip of his coffee and stared at me, interlocking his fingers in a serious manner and staring at the table top.

"Come on, Sydnee."

"Come on, nothing." I snapped, but with less force and enthusiasm as I had planned. I took a deep breath and lowered my voice, "What's there to talk about?"

"You're being unreasonable." He said, inspecting his coffee a little more, not looking up at me.

"I'm being unreasonable?" My voice grew louder, and more high pitched despite my best efforts, "You're the one who left. I have good reason to be unreasonable."

"Don't be like that."

His voice was so calm, it surprised me. The more I pitched a fit, and the louder I got, he just sat and watched, sipping his coffee and keeping a cool head.

"Frank? What is wrong with you?" I finally screamed, pounding my fists on the table.

His head shot up, "Me? What's wrong with me?" He stood up, leaning across the table and getting a mere inches away from my face, his voice was eerily low and calm, "Pardon me, honey, but I'm not the one making a scene in the middle of a diner."

"I'm not your honey, and you know it." I narrowed my eyes at him as he calmly sat back down and sipped at his coffee. He knew I hated being called 'Honey.' I have ever since I was old enough to recognize the word.

"I'm sorry," He smiled evilly, "But I do believe you are."

"I'm nobody's honey."

He glanced up at me, a crooked smile on his face, "Well, I don't know. We are technically still married."

"I hate you." I growled. I punched the table as I leaned over and grabbed my purse, then stormed out of the diner, thanking the waitress one final time before leaving.

*************

Good job, Frank. You've pissed her off.

She'll be back. I know her.

She walked out of the restaurant after I called her "Honey." She hated that. Though...I never knew why.

The waitress waddled over and set down a plate with a large, greasy burger and a bunch of fries.

"Rough night?" The waitress asked, jerking her head in the direction of the door and offering a sympathetic smile.

"Nope." I smiled, sipping my coffee and eyeing the french fries. I swallowed and pointed at the plate, "Can I have some ketchup?"

The waitress raised her eyebrows and looked at me quizzically, then shrugged, still staring at me, "Okay, sugar."

She skated off, and I sighed to myself, shoving a fry into my mouth and thinking about Sydnee.

Maybe I shouldn't have made her mad. Why did she hate to be called 'Honey', anyways?

I contemplated that as I ate another fry. Before I knew it, the waitress was back with a ketchup bottle. She set the bottle on the table next to me and pointed at the small plate I had given Syd, "Are you done with that?"

I glanced at the plate, covered in sugar with a drawing cutting through and showing the black plate underneath. Then I looked closer. Reaching out, I pulled lightly on the edge of the plate and turned it until the drawing was right-side up.

Then my heart stopped. The plate said it...so clearly, it was unmistakable.

I-heart- Frank.

"Oh, God..." I sighed.

The waitress nudged my arm, "You Okay?"

"Yeah." I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my wallet and rifling through the few bills I had, "Will a $10 cover it?"

"And then some." The waitress said flatly, popping her gum.

I shoved the $10 into her hand, "Keep the rest as a tip."

She skated away happily as I folded my arms on the table and buried my face.

Frank...you idiot...

That was it, I stood up at the table and grabbed a few more fries, walking out the door and leaving the business man alone with that waitress, silently wishing him luck.

I turned onto a little back street, walking down the gum-encrusted sidewalks, making sure to keep my eyes down. This particular street was not my favorite; it was either the pride of Belleville, or the disgrace, depending on how you look at it. The whole street was littered with sex shops and underground cabarets. Every time I would look up, I'd be met by something I did not want to see. So, for many reasons, I looked down.

______________________________________

I kept my eyes down, silently fuming as I stomped away from the diner. I wasn't sure which street I was on, but I noticed there were too many strippers for it’s own good. There were also many middle-aged men walking around, pockets full to bursting with $1 bills. I quickened my pace and hugged my jacket closed as I passed a few men, staring at the ground with no intentions to look up any time soon.

I felt a hand on my arm, keeping me from walking any further. The first thing I thought was RAPE! Instinctively, and blinded by panic, I put my whole body weight into my arm and swung, only to have my arm connect with a hand. I screamed as loud as possible, then suddenly was silenced as a hand covered my mouth.

I blinked and saw Frank, holding my swinging arm with one hand, and covering my mouth with the other, shushing me quietly. I stopped screaming as he let go of me completely and stepped back awkwardly.

I straightened my jacket, "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry," He looked like he was on the verge of crying, "For everything that happened. I'm a total jerk and give you permission to slap me."

He closed his eyes and turned his face, giving me a straight shot at his cheek.

"I'm not going to slap you." I crossed my arms, "But you deserve it."