Mary was sitting across from me, her fingers touching the top of her water glass, the sides coated with condensation.  Not using a coaster.  Not that it mattered, the table topped with pocks.

“Is it going to snow?” she asked.  “I know you can’t say for sure, but have you heard if it will?”

I finished chewing my scrambled eggs and poked at my hash browns.  “Not supposed to,” I said.

“You what?”

Louder, I said, “Not supposed to.”

She drank from her water glass.  “I have a long trip ahead of me.”

“It won’t snow.”  The hash browns were perfect; golden with a hint of butter and the crispness factor was optimal.  “What time are you leaving?”

In the booth behind Mary were an elderly couple, the kind of people who likely came to this place frequently, maybe every morning.

“I’m hoping for six o’clock, but no later than eight o’clock in the morning.  Do you think that’s early enough?”

Our server was Angie.  She had blonde hair in a bun on her head and was one of the girls who memorized your order.

“Should be.  Eight is cutting it close.”

“Do you think it’s early enough?” Mary said.

“Ought to be.”  Angie topped off my water then moved to the elderly couple’s table and shared a laugh and almost lovingly touched the man’s shoulder.  This seemed to confirm my suspicions of their loyalty to the place.

“I haven’t even packed,” Mary said.  She stuffed a bite of French toast in her mouth.

“You have all day.”

She looked out the window at a man walking past with a greyhound as she chewed hurriedly, shaking her head.  “I don’t,” she told me, swallowing.  “I have a hair appointment.”  Her voice had that thick quality that syrup and starchy foods sometimes gave a voice.

I nodded.

“At the hairdresser?” Mary said.  “I have an appointment.”

“Got it.”  The hash browns were hitting the spot.  It was our first visit at the place, but I already knew what I’d have if I ever came back.

Mary sighed heavily.  “Why didn’t I get a beverage?”

“You got coffee.”

“Coffee, yes, but like a juice, I mean.  Can I?”

“You want me to get you a juice?”

“Can I get a juice?  Apple if they’ve got it.”

When I saw Angie looking at me, I held up my hand.  She approached and I asked for the apple juice and an English muffin with extra butter.  When she left, her hip grazed my arm.

“Did you see that?  Pretty blatant.”

“What?  Her bumping me?”

“Grinding against you like that?” Mary said.

“Ah jeez, Mary,” I said.  “She was making room for the guy passing.”

“She shouldn’t.  What I’m saying is she shouldn’t with me here.  You’re with a woman.”

“My sister.”

“She doesn’t know that,” Mary said.  “You don’t know she knows that.”

“I’m single now, anyway.  Let it be.  Maybe she’s—”

“She don’t know that.  She don’t know you’re single.”

“I’m old enough to be her—”

“Would you just—can we be quiet?” Mary’s voice was strained. “Can we?  Just drop it.  I don’t need this stress before a travel day.”

“Nobody does,” I said.  Angie was coming with the juice and muffin.  There were seven pats of butter on my plate. Smart girl.

“Thank you,” I said.  I looked at Mary, who said nothing.  “From both of us.”

Angie just nodded and smiled, hurrying away.

“It’s the generation,” Mary said.  “No respect.”

“Would you stop?  She brought you your juice.”

Mary pushed her water glass away; all done.  She took a long sip of the apple juice.  “Not fresh- squeezed, I’ll say that much,” she said as she put the glass down.  “When’s the last time you had fresh-squeezed?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know when it was?  No?”  Mary shook her head.  “It’s a changing world, not for the better.  Oh God, how am I ever going to get ready in time?”

“Plenty of time,” I said.

“I wish you could go with me.”

“I don’t want to,” I told her. “We can still visit.”

“It won’t be the same.  It’s a whole other coast.”

I was glad, but I said, “It’ll be easy to feel closer with today’s technology.”

Mary said, “I’m about ready to leave.  I just need to use the powder room.”  She pushed herself away from the booth.  Most of her food hadn’t been touched, nerves probably.

Angie walked past again.  I held up a finger.  “When you get a minute, we’re ready for our bill.”

“I’ll bring that shortly,” she said, smiling.  Another patron walked by, and Angie’s hip pushed against my hand again.

Honestly, it was nice.  Without Mary there to judge me or Angie, I felt free to experience the emotion that comes with accidentally being touched by a pretty girl, innocent as it was.

A minute past and Angie came again and set the bill on our table. I reached for it quickly, hoping somehow our fingers might brush, but pulled my hand back when I saw the rock on her left ring finger.

How did I not see that before?

“Thank you!” she said.  “You can pay on your way out.  Take your time.”

“Right.  Okay.”

Then Mary returned, watching Angie go.  “What did she want?  My God, fawning like that.”

“Just dropping the bill.  You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.  I had a little diarrhea.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Let’s just go.  I have so much to do.”

I slid to the end of the booth.  Mary came around and hoisted me up with both arms, carrying me like a child.  The other patrons who hadn’t seen us come in seemed taken aback to see her carry a legless man out of the dining area.

I was used to it.

Mary had been carrying me a long time.

– Jim Mentink