14 Days, 7 Prompts, 1 Story (Feb 2010)

Bodies in Motion

Tapping the table impatiently, he forced himself to calm down.  She wasn’t going to show.  Or call.  No big fucking deal.  Once her lateness crossed the forty-five minute mark he should’ve left. 

He stayed because one never knew.  There could’ve been an accident.  It was certainly raining hard enough for that. 

The rain streaked down the dirty diner window in rhythmic counterpoint to his tapping.  A nervous habit, he found the repetitive motion soothing.  From the dirty looks the trio in the booth across the way was shooting him, he was the only one.  That or they hated the Stones.  In deference to their annoyance he laid his palms flat on the countertop. 

He was wired, making him edgier than usual.  Probably shouldn’t have had that third cup of coffee. 

Fuck.  It never occurred to him the girl would flake.  That she wouldn’t like him?  Duh.  That it would be awkward, uncomfortable and he’d end up saying the wrong thing?  Almost inevitable.  But that she wouldn’t show? 

“Do you need anything else?” 

The sympathy in the waitress’ voice unbearable, John looked down at his hands instead of answering.  He wanted to throw things. 

It was pity date, something his brother’s girlfriend had set up.  Isadora was a wonderful woman, she really was.  Hopefully Robert knew how good he had it. 

Likely it was the scar.  Or the cane.  Maybe Isadora hadn’t told her beforehand.  He would bet money, and he wasn’t a betting man, that the bleached blonde in the too-tight t-shirt that walked in, looked around, and walked out the door eighty-two minutes ago was Melanie.  She didn’t even have the decency to call to cancel. 

“Sir?  Can I get you anything?”  He glanced up to find the waitress still standing there, coffeepot in hand.  He’d forgotten all about her.  John noticed she was pretty in an understated way, with dark brown hair and matching eyes.  Both were looking a little frazzled.

“No.” 

He took another quick glance at his watch, a gift from his nephew.  The smiling penguin’s arms indicated he was not only a loser but a glutton for punishment.  Melanie, assuming he was wrong, was over an hour and a half late.  The stupid animal was laughing at him.  So was she.

“You sure you don’t want something to eat?” 

“Not so much, thanks,” he mumbled, hoping to be rid of her.  No such luck.

“I know it’s not my business.”  He wanted to stop her right there.  Then whatever it is, don’t comment.  “But you look like you could use somebody to talk to.”  He said nothing, refusing to meet her gaze.  She sighed.  “My shift is over in ten minutes.  I’ll bring your new server Tracy by before I leave,” she finished politely as she walked away. 

Her politeness shamed him.  Great.  Now I can add being an asshole to the list.  John was pretty sure he should have been kicked out of his booth by now.  Though he’d been taking up valuable table space, she’d been nice enough to leave him be. 

“Wait.”  He would give her an explanation at least, to make up for his rudeness.  “I’ll take the check.  I’m sorry I sat here without ordering food.  I was waiting for someone –”

“Who didn’t show.  I figured.  Look, don’t worry about the bill.  Coffee’s on the house.  Refills are free anyhow.” 

He took another look.  Frazzled or no, his waitress was much prettier than he’d thought.  She still looked tired though.  Standing around with a coffeepot in hand waiting for him to make up his damn mind probably wasn’t helping matters any.

Before he could talk himself out it, he asked, “Is that offer still open?”

“Of course.”  It surprised him she agreed so readily.  With a smile too, like he hadn’t spent their entire acquaintance being a douche.  That smile lit up her face.  Much, much prettier.  Good thing I hadn’t noticed before, or I’d never managed to say anything coherent.  “Do you mind waiting?” 

At that moment, her stomach growled loudly, making him wonder if she’d eaten all day.  “Would you like something to eat?”  The flush in her cheeks deepened, telling him he’d embarrassed her.  He should’ve pretended not to notice, he supposed. 

But she surprised him again, laughing it off.  “Oh ignore her.  She’s an angry beasty, always wanting to be fed.  I’ll grab something on my way home.” 

That didn’t seem right.  Manners, John my boy, are the bedrock of society, as granddad used to say.  “I was going to order a grilled cheese and some fries.  Why not get yourself something?”  It wasn’t until afterwards that he realized he sounded like a prick.

Luckily she didn’t take any offense.  “Ok then.  I’ll go put in your order – and mine.  Be warned mister.  I’m an expensive date.  I’m getting the cheeseburger deluxe.  And a milkshake.”  He grinned with her.

She’d said date.  Is that what this was?  He found himself hoping so.

“John.  My name’s John.”  He wanted to stand and shake her hand, but couldn’t figure out how to do smoothly.

“I’m Tory.  Short for Victoria.  I’d shake your hand but,” she leaned closer to him and faux-whispered, “they’re a little sticky.”  Up close, she smelled inviting, strawberries and bacon and something clean that was probably soap.  The hemp of her necklace was frayed, the metal sand-dollar pendant shiny between her cleavage.  From what he could see, she was soft and well-rounded beneath her uniform. 

He had a sudden vision of Tory at the end of his couch, tucked into one of his old button-down shirts and nothing else.  Their eyes caught.  Her breathing stuttered.  Then she pulled back, breaking the spell. 

“So we’ll save it for later.”  It took him a while to remember she was talking about a handshake. 

The trio was gesturing obnoxiously in her direction.  “That’s my cue.  Don’t miss me too much,” she said, giving him a saucy wink as she sauntered away.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.  She threaded her way through the rapidly filing diner, disappearing into the kitchen.  Only then did John look at his watch again, thinking as he did he was grateful Melanie hadn't shown.