When he first started at the diner two years ago, Dillon had worn headphones while he worked, but now he found that the familiar medley of sounds helped to quiet the chaos in his head. Dishes being stacked and washed, the sizzle of grease as food hit the grill, the low drone of the tv repeating the morning news, bell ringing periodically as orders were set for pick up.

He put one last clean plate on the rack, shut the water off and let the nozzle snap into place. After wiping his hands dry on his apron, he pulled it off and hung it on a hook. He exited the kitchen and settled his tall, lanky frame on the end stool.

Darlene came over, coffee pot in hand and paused in front of Dillon. “That time already?” The day-to-day sameness of her comforted him, the sky-blue uniform with white piping, apron tied neatly around her waist. Darlene and her husband Joe had run the diner for decades, she did not have to wear the uniform and yet, it seemed a part of her. She also did not need to fuss after Dillon after every shift, yet he soaked up the attention like a motherless child.

Dillon nodded and opened his hands to accept the coffee she slid across to him. “Thanks.” His heel tapped rapidly, leg bouncing up and down, sending small vibrations through the counter.

“Heading to class this morning?”

“No. Not until this afternoon.”

“Want some breakfast?”

Dillon glanced at the clock and shook his head. “Not yet, thanks.”

“Waiting for Ashely?” Dillon watched for Darlene’s mouth to tighten slightly, the way it always did when she asked about Ashley. He nodded.  It was a familiar dance; she never came right out and said she disapproved, and he pretended he didn’t know.  If it were out in the open, he might need to do something about it, and the thought filled him with dread.

Darlene headed to the other end of the counter to top up two old-timers rooted in their usual spots. Every morning after the rush, Joe held court with them, his bulky frame perched on a wooden stool he pulled up beside the register, arms crossed over his apron. Dillon felt a familiar yearning as he watched Darlene rest an affectionate arm across Joe’s shoulders and join the conversation. What would it be like to fit together so seamlessly with someone, to be completely sure of your place in their world?

The bell on the door jangled, and Dillon jerked his head around. He relaxed at the sight of a young couple tentatively heading for a table against the wall. Darlene made her way over with menus.

Dillon took a sip of his coffee, hoping that it would take the edge off his headache. His eyes felt dry and painful, his chest tight and his heartbeat too fast. Sometimes he thought he should take up drinking, if this was how he was going to feel anyway, but it didn’t mix well with his anti-anxiety meds. He took his ball hat off and ran his hands through the riot of curly brown hair it had been covering. He held his head in two hands, squeezing gently, elbows resting on the counter.

Darlene punched an order slip down on the spike, came back to his stretch of counter and leaned a hip against it, pulling a small compact out of her apron pocket. “Well, I’m guessing we haven’t found ourselves two new regulars there. Her coffee order was longer than my wedding vows. And him, polishing the silverware under the table, like I can’t see what he’s doing.”  She rolled her eyes and snapped the compact shut. Darlene looked at Dillon more closely as he quickly put his hat back on. “Hey. Looks like you’ve got a bit of a shiner coming in. Rough night?”

Dillon brought his hand up to the side of his face and pulled his hat down a touch lower. “Something like that.”  He shrugged, then forced himself to meet Darlene’s eyes. “Does it look bad?”

“Looks sore. I’m betting it’s going to look worse in a few days.” The bell rang to signal order up.

Dillon touched the tender spot on the bridge of his nose. As he gently pressed, he closed his eyes and was immediately drowning in the sea of images he had been working so hard to avoid.

Ashely’s face pushed up into his, alcohol strong on her breath, words slurring, finger jabbing his chest. “Be a goddamn man for once.” 

Her hands, pulling him back desperately. “Please, don’t leave me. You know I didn’t mean it. You just make me so crazy sometimes.”

A glass hurling towards him from across the room, ice and vodka splashing as it hit his rib cage, leaving yet another bruise. “You can’t do anything right you pathetic loser.”

Her standing there in his old t-shirt, mascara smudged under her pleading eyes, hair sticking up wildly. “Baby I’m sorry. Look at me. I couldn’t hurt a big guy like you.”

Clenched fists pummeling wildly, one hitting him square in the face, snapping his head sideways. Blood spraying from his nose, spattering on the wall.

He opened his eyes, fought to control the flood of memories, and glanced again at the clock. Half past nine. Maybe she wouldn’t show up. As he contemplated the thought, a strange mix of heartbreak and hope emerged.

When Darlene came back around the corner, he tapped his cup and gave a crooked smile. “Could I get a warm-up, please? And an order of hash from the back?” 

“Sure honey.”  Darlene filled his cup from the pot and called his order to the kitchen. “Your girl not coming?”

“I’m not sure.” Dillon took a sip from his coffee and nodded his head toward the back table to change the subject. “Do you think you are winning them over to the charm of this place?”

Darlene snorted. “You and me both know the charm of this place is lost on those two.”  She looked at him pointedly. “Some things just aren’t a good fit and that’s okay.”

Dillon had started his breakfast when the bell over the door sounded again, and he turned to see Ashley walk in. Her shiny blond hair lay in waves past her shoulders, and she wore tall boots over black tights, with heels to give her petite frame a boost. As he watched her approach, new threads twisted into his tangled knot of emotions.

Relief. Resignation. Desire. Shame.

Perching on the stool next to him, Ashely grabbed a handful of paper napkins from the metal dispenser and scrubbed at the clean counter before placing her purse down. “Almost ready to go?” 

Darlene came back around the corner and narrowed her eyes at the pile of discarded napkins, gathering them up as she walked past. Ashley ignored her.

“Are you done?”  She tried again to move him along, wrinkling her nose distastefully at the sight of his half empty plate of food.

“I guess.”  He pushed the dish across the counter. The pounding in his head intensified.

Darlene came back to scoop up his plate. “Can I get you two anything else?”

“No, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”  He smiled weakly at Darlene and looked at Ashley as he stood up from his stool. “I’m just going to grab my stuff.”

Darlene watched him round the corner before she turned to Ashley. “Well, you take care now.”  She started to walk away, then stopped and rapped her knuckles gently on the counter. “And take care of our boy. He’s looking a little worse for wear.”

Ashely’s head snapped up, her face wary and hard before she slipped a sympathetic pout in place. “Yeah, I know, poor guy. He tripped getting out of bed. These early morning shifts are no good for him.”

Dillon walked out from the back, slinging a backpack over his shoulder. He stopped, sensing tension between the two women. “Everything okay here?”

“Everything’s great babe.”  Ashely rose from her stool and paused to dig in her purse. “Oh hey, I almost forgot. I stopped on the way here and got you that new CD you wanted.”  She pulled out a small bag and handed it to him.

“New CD?” He slid the album out of the bag and studied the cover art, took his time looking over the details.  He frowned and looked at Ashley.  “How did you get this so fast?  It just came out today.”

“You’ve been talking about it for weeks.  I asked the store to put one aside as soon as they came in, and they called this morning when I was on my way over.  I’m sorry I was so late, but that’s why.”  She placed her hand lightly on his arm and widened her eyes. “You forgive me, right?”

The question hung in the air as Dillon went back to studying the CD, Ashley and Darlene both waiting for his answer. He considered the question and the many transgressions it encompassed.  The truth was, even in a wild rage, Ashley could press on his deepest insecurities with surgical precision.  She’s not wrong, he told himself time and time again.  He thought of the care and attention that had gone into this gift and knew how lucky he was to be loved like that.  No one’s story is perfect.

“Dillon?”  Ashley lightly squeezed his arm.

He met her eyes and held them for a long moment.  “Of course.” He let go of what he’d been holding. “Of course I do.  I can’t believe you remembered.”  Dillon’s face slowly lit up with his first genuine smile of the day.  “Thanks Ash. You’re the best.”  He threw an arm over Ashley’s shoulders and looked at Darlene. “Isn’t she the best?” 

Dillon waited, needing an answer, as the silence stretched out awkwardly. Darlene’s features finally softened in resignation, and she nodded at Dillon before walking away. “Go on now. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

– Kelly McLean