Smirt

“Thank you and goodnight. You were all fucking amazing.” I flashed a grin and went backstage, swiping a towel across my forehead soon afterward.

Adrenaline still coursed through my veins as I left the venue with Carter; it showed in the varied movements I made. The bouncing of my legs, a slight bobbing of my head to music, pressing both hands and face to the passenger side window. I stared at soccer moms at fast food drive-throughs and cars filled beyond capacity with kids. Well, high school teenagers, maybe even a few college freshmen in the mix, if you want to be specific. Even though I’m still considered a “kid” by my friends, I can be mature. I just choose not to because, be honest here, who wants to feel old? Not yours truly.

“I think you’re making this a habit, Christofer,” Carter said sternly, pointing a finger at me, “this is the second time you’ve gotten in this car and not said a word.”

“I was thinkin’ about the show and other shit,” I responded before gazing out the window suddenly, “wait, can we eat there? I’m hungry as fuck.”

Carter reacted quickly, driving into the parking lot of the restaurant I wanted to eat at. “Are you sure? There’s a diner down the street that I think is---”

“Relax. It’s fine.” I hopped out of the car, eager and on top of the world. My eyes were instantly focused on the bright, retro neon sign that said Edith’s Diner. Somehow, I was drawn to this diner, which wasn’t my usual choice. I had fallen into a routine lately, so maybe a minor change was necessary.

Edith’s had a small town charm to it and I noticed it as I entered. Nobody turned to look at the two disheveled new faces that found a booth near the front. I looked at Carter before adjusting my hat, smiling sleepily at him. My legs were crossed Indian-style on the worn caramel pleather bench, arms folded on the table with my head resting on top. I was glad that the table was free of any liquid or caked on substance; that fact alone made me like Edith’s even more.

The décor was simplistic and warm, I noted, as I saw the vintage jukebox and sepia-toned photos framed on the wall. There were a few in black and white or colour, but most were sepia, and of Edith herself at the grand opening. She looked familiar, which was odd because I’d only found the place on a whim. I contemplated asking Carter about it but decided against it. He appeared to be just as tired; dark circles under his eyes, posture relaxed, basically, my mirror image.

“Hello, I’m Dahlia and I’ll be your waitress this evening. Here are some menus to get you started. You’re new to Edith’s, aren’t you?”

And there she stood, the second girl to break my heart, pretending to not recognize me.

Wait, I think she noticed it’s me. . .yeah, I think she did. . .oh wow.

Dahlia had a momentary slip up as a shocked expression registered on her face. But then it was gone, replaced by a forced smile and one hand poised over her notepad and pen, taking both out with shaky hands. “What would you like to drink?”

Carter glanced at Dahlia, then at me, before muttering a soda name I didn’t hear. Dahlia wrote it down and looked at me expectantly. I didn’t move from my position, turning my head a little so I faced her. “Coffee, please.”

“Sure. I’ll be back soon to take your order.” In the blink of an eye, she was already walking away, not even a backwards glance at us me.

Well, this was going to be interesting.