Tuesday, September 11, 2007

~Bastards and Diners by Xegbp~


She threw the car into gear and roared out of the parking lot leaving him stranded at the god foresaken hole in the wall diner. She smiled to herself, lit a cigarette and turned up the volume on the radio. As the miles passed you would expect her to feel the beginnings of guilt, but she felt no guilt for leaving the bastard at the diner.
***Amen, sister.***

3 comments:

xegbp said...

She threw the car into gear and roared out of the parking lot leaving him stranded at the god foresaken hole in the wall diner. She smiled to herself, lit a cigarette and turned up the volume on the radio. As the miles passed you would expect her to feel the beginnings of guilt, but she felt no guilt for leaving the bastard at the diner.

Comrade Kevin said...

Taken at face value, Tony's Pizza Parlor is nothing special. The food is edible, but nothing special. The ambiance resembles an '80s New Wave video, full of gaudy shades of red, shiny chrome, skinny black ties, and skinnier men.

In addition to the antique pinball machine which sits uneasily in one corner is a pool table. The dingy green felt surface has absorbed years of grime, pizza crumbs, matted clumps of hair, and discarded dregs of beer. Still, it's home to a generation of college students who make a habit of subsisting on its edible wares.

Tables like these bear scratches which reveal the names of long-forgotten romances, cryptic slogans, and obscenities. If the walls could talk they would reveal the history of a thousand hook ups, anxieties, petty grievances, gossip, and alcohol-fueled confessions.

Cynthia said...

Over thirty years ago the eight of them found each other in the first year of high school, three girls and five boys. They were the best of friends, with some flirting going on, but always friends. They would go to school dances, sit together at lunch, and sneak into bars. They would talk about their latest crushes, and no one ever got hurt.

High school graduation, colleges, first jobs, marriages, relocations, kids, divorces, came and went. Every once in awhile one would run into another. News from the meeting would spread to the other six. That's the way they kept up.

Word came that their 30th reunion would be held in a country club near their old school. Upon hearing this, all of them looked in their mirrors and thought, "I've changed so much. What will they think?"

The country club had that "gym decorated for a prom" look but the mood was festive and expectant. Music from the mid-70s was blaring but could barely be heard above all the "Oh, my God," "You look great," and "I can't believe you're here" comments.

All at once, as if an energy went out, the eight found each other. One head turned, then the next, until all were walking toward each other.

No one noticed the changes brought on by age. They talked over each other, finished each other's sentences, caught up on thirty years, showed photos, hugged, and smiled. Smiled for years gone. Smiled because they were together.

When the dj played the song "Last Dance" they looked at each other and knew the next stop was the diner. Three decades ago, that's where they went every weekend.

Walking in, they smiled. Nothing in the place had changed. The same greasy smell, the same sticky floor, the same revolving dessert case in the front. And, high schoolers were talking about SATs and how they would make a lot of money when they got a job. It was the same.

Smiling, the eight pulled two tables together and placed the same red vinyl chairs around.