Things Unseen

Jacey sat in the corner booth of the diner with her fingers interlaced, trying to hide her shaking hands. She picked at the skin around her left thumb until the cuticle was bleeding. She snagged a napkin from the dispenser on the table and pressed it against the wound. The yellow light fixtures that hung over each table were dimmer, dirtier than she remembered from childhood. If she squinted her eyes hard enough and focused just beyond the dull glow of the bulbs, she could spot a decade worth of dead flies inside the circular pendants. The once red and white checkered floors now looked more brown and tan than their original vintage design. 

She couldn’t help but think the place had gone to shit since Bob bought it from her uncle Lionel before he passed. She watched Bob count the registered drawer and place the cash inside the blue bank deposit bag before carrying it to the back. She sipped her coffee, doing her best to appear casual, but her heart was racing. She hoped no one would notice the vibrations against her t-shirt. She glanced at the oversized clock on the wall. At exactly ten o’clock, Bob locked the office, and Sarah came strolling through the double doors, wrapping her apron around her waist. He passed her the key, and she dropped it inside the apron pocket. Bob hopped into his little blue convertible and drove away into the night. Everything was in order.

Lionel walked the aisle of red and yellow booths as he did every night, inspecting the quality of the upkeep of the place. He regularly found himself disappointed in its steady decline. The tiled floors were well past due for a deep scrubbing, housing a collection of mushed and rotting hash browns in the cracks of the grout. What was once a renowned service crew had been replaced by a cast of teenagers and college drop outs with wildly colored hair and poorly crafted tattoos. The faces of patrons had shifted from kindhearted elderly regulars to middle class families with screaming children. He often wondered what had become of his favorite customer, Miss Betsy. He couldn’t recall how long it had been since he’d last seen her, but he knew it was too long. Considering the passage of time, he was certain he wouldn’t be seeing her again. 

Someone new was sitting in Miss Betsy’s booth, someone familiar, someone Lionel hadn’t seen in this place since she was a child. Jacey’s curly locks had grown long and thick. Braces removed and dressed in slacks and a button down, he hardly recognized the woman his niece had become. He wondered why she’d waited so long to visit. He wanted to run to her, to wrap his arms around his kin, but all he could do was watch. She appeared healthy and well put together, but Lionel knew things were not always what they seemed. He slid into the booth next to Jacey, hoping to glean some valuable insight from the moment. He watched as her hands trembled in her lap and chills ran up her arms.

A woman and her husband sat a few tables down from where Jacey was waiting. “Waitress! This is unacceptable.” The woman shouted in Sarah’s direction. “My baby can’t even eat his chicken nuggets. Look at this!” The disgruntled mother stood and peeled back the breading of a nugget to reveal a mysterious pink goo and waved the glob around in the air for Sarah to see.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. We can have the kitchen remake the food.” She responded. 

“No, we don’t want that. This place is going to give us all food poisoning. We want to leave now.”

“Honey, please you’re causing a scene.” The husband whispered to his wife. The restaurant was silent and all heads were turned towards their table. 

“Did you want to pay for this garage? Look at this place. It's filthy! There’s clumps of gum stuck to the bottom of the booth for Christ’s sake!” The woman pushed her way around her husband and out from behind the table, taking the red checkered tablecloth with her. The porcelain plates crashed to the floor and shattered across the dirty tiles. The woman pulled the little boy from the booth and drug her husband by the arm towards the exit.

Before collecting the broom and the dust pan, Sarah placed the apron on the counter closest to Jacey. That was the signal. Lionel watched in disbelief as Jacey left the booth, snatched the apron, and snuck into the back office to pocket the blue bank deposit bag from the safe. He wished he could say something, do something, reach out to her in some way, but there was no point in trying. She’d never see him, and he wondered if this would be the last time he’d see her.