Isaac shuffled down the boardwalk, a fast-pace close to a jog, until he ended up at the deserted lifeguard chair he stood at this morning. Isaac wasn’t functioning properly, and this had been a pattern. Ever since him and Lisa split, nothing’s been right. It hasn’t been as severe as Isaac imagining voices around him.

It’s been the small things, like setting an extra place at the dinner table. Ordering mushrooms and black olives on only half of the pizza because Lisa preferred plain cheese. Making sure the new episodes of her favorite TV shows were recording on DVR because she’d want to watch them when she got home. When he’d call in for messages on their home phone, he realized that she changed the voicemail greeting to ‘Isaac Springer and Lisa Craft.’ Isaac’s tried to call her, ask why she changed it so soon. And couldn’t they wait to change it until they had come to a formal, joint decision? At least something written down on paper? But she hasn’t answered any of the times his name popped up on her caller ID. Not at 12:30, because that’s when Isaac knew Lisa took her lunch break everyday, or between 5:00 and 5:30 when she’d be done with dinner and about to start editing papers again for work, until she fell asleep with her glasses still perched on the edge of her nose and a pen poised in her right hand and a highlighter in her left.
But lately, it’s been Isaac waking up in the queen size bed at the hotel and realizing he’s alone. He panics at first, wondering why he’s alone and not even seeing the indent of Lisa next to him. After a few moments is when he remembers that he went to bed alone, just like he had the night before and the night before that for almost three months.

Isaac forgot about the voice in the diner and moved further along the boardwalk looking for something else to eat, something with a little more substance. He brushed the voice aside and reasoned that the overpowering odor of coffee grinds had just gotten to his head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Isaac slept that night with Lisa’s voice cooing in his head. Only it wasn’t Lisa’s body the voice was coming from, it was vaguely familiar and looked a bit like the woman in the photograph at the diner. He only would hear the voice moments before he’d wake up, singing to him, as if they were in the next room, humming to themselves as they went to the bathroom or got a midnight snack. But each time he woke up in the middle of the night, Isaac was alone. As soon as his eyes closed, the voice appeared in his ear.


Isaac…I came to visit you. You remember me, right? How could you forget?

He squeezed his eyes tighter and turned away from the voice onto his other side.

I know you can hear me. I just want to talk. Get to know you. You intrigue me, you know.

Isaac shook his head and sat up. Keeping his eyes set on the ground, where there would be no chance of his eyes grazing across something he didn’t want to see, Isaac walked to the bathroom. He turned on the shower water and the sink water to get rid of the white noise. He soaked the cream towel draped over the rod on the back of the bathroom door with hot, scalding water. Without waiting for the towel to cool down, Isaac made his way back to his bed and put the scalding towel over his eyes. It was painful. But that way Isaac could focus his senses on the burning sensations on his cheekbones and not on hearing. What little he could make out consisted on the running water from the shower. Slowly, the voice droned out.

Why are you ignoring me?...
Don’t you want to talk….
Hello?...
Isaac…

The next morning, Isaac still had the voice in his head, repeating the small conversation he had, or at least imagined that he had, the previous day. To say the least, he was intrigued. Completely captivated. It was the closest he had felt to Lisa in these solitary months since he’d last seen or spoken to her. He just had this feeling in his stomach that he would get when he saw Lisa. Anxious, excited, and slightly nauseated. Each time he saw Lisa, it felt like he was seeing her for the first time. Like it was their first date and Isaac had to keep her entertained and prove that he was worthy enough for a second date. Interested and slightly desperate, he went back to the diner.

He walked in and right at the chime of the bell, Ruthie appeared from behind the swinging doors with a notepad in her hand.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, “I remember you! You walked out on your breakfast last time, didn’t even pay,” she said, eyeing him.

Isaac stood in disbelief, he was so taken aback that he had completely forgotten. He thought about mentioning that he didn’t get even touch his meal, but he let it go. “Wow, uhm, I’m so sorry. How about I pay for it now, today, along with the meal I’m about to order?”

Ruthie smiled and gave a sharp nod, “That’ll be just great. What can I get ya? Same as yesterday?”

Isaac’s stomach immediately twisted in knots at the thought of being served lukewarm, uncooked eggs for the second morning in a row. But he then decided he wasn’t really here for the food.
“Sure, why not,” he decided and took a seat in the last booth.

He wasn’t sure what he expected, really. What would he even say to this…person? Had he imagined the whole thing on his own?

You’re back.

“Estelle?”

Of course, who else would it be?

“I don’t know,” Isaac said with a smirk spreading across his face. “So I guess this was real,” he mumbled to himself.
Well why wouldn’t it be real?
“I don’t know, there was just some doubt in my mind. This is all very strange and new to me, you know.”
I could imagine.
“But how are you…How can I hear you?”

That’s a good question. I talk to loads of people here. You’re just the first to respond. Or maybe you’re the first to actually hear me.

“Why is that? Why can only I hear you?

Another good question.

“Well how long have you been ‘here’?”

Long enough to see this place crash and burn in a matter of a few months.
“Then why are you still here? Why didn’t you leave?”
I can’t leave. I’ve never gotten farther than that booth three rows back. Besides, where else would I go? Mom and Dad passed a while ago, same with my sister. The only family I have left is Helena over there, and let me tell you I’m not proud of that one.
“So? They’re your family. That’s the strongest build you can build.”
You don’t say? Then where’s your family? Why are you here in this grungy diner by yourself eating toast soaked in uncooked eggs?
“Alright look it’s not as easy as you apparently think to just get-up-and-go?”


Why not? I did it.
“Yeah, well look where that got you.”
Okay, we’re not talking about me. What’s your excuse?
“It’s called a broken-heart. Guess you wouldn’t know about that, seeing that no one could keep up with your demanding yet short temper.”
Alright, that’s how we’re playing now. Tell me more about this broken-heart.
“Excuse me?”


I know you want to talk about it.
“I’ve already talked about it to plenty of people—my mom and dad, my brother, even the clerk at the Wine & Spirits for a time. Nothing helps.”
That’s all fine and well, but has that helped you at all?
“Not at all, they all tell me the same thing—just let her go. Well what if I don’t want to let her go? Not yet, at least. I’m not ready. I don’t understand why she won’t just talk to me.”
Talk to me. Maybe I can help you. Tell me your whole story. Who is this said “heart-breaker”?
With a sigh and one last look around the diner, Isaac started.
“Her name is Lisa and she’s the exact opposite from me—“
How so? Personality? Looks? Preferences?
“Yes. Yes to all of it. She’s assertive and definitive and is the least bit afraid of confronting people to tell them exactly why they’re annoying her,” Isaac paused, remembering in public when she would cause a scene and he would have to hold her back—at the coffee shop when the barista would flirt a little too long with a customer or when a band of pre-teens snuck into the scary R-rated movies one time and she called them out from the front of the theater. “But she’s small—she comes up to about my chest. I always called her small but mighty, then she’d reply with ‘size has nothing to do with dominance—clearly’ as she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms,” Isaac sighed, looking down at his own large frame, 6’3” and pushing 200. “She was the smartest woman I knew. Clever, quick-witted, and I swear to God she knew everything there was to know. As if she read every history book and philosophical novel and just analyzed them all in her head all day long, all while she performed the same small, minute tasks you and I do each day. That’s why she could win any argument, because she knew something about everything. And if she didn’t she could manipulate the other person and convince them she had won.”
Were those good qualities? Because you sound a little cautious.
“Well, yeah… I mean in the beginning it was what drew me to her. Her personality was so different from my own, it almost inspired me to stop being so quiet. And I think she liked having someone to boss around and not say anything about it. It was never worth it to try and fight her, stand up for myself. She would just shoot me down more. Eventually I just got used to it, I tried to ignore her, tell myself she’s just taking out her hostility on me because I would take it and not argue with the lies she said about me. And I was able to, most of the time. It was just nice to have someone always there with me, just to talk to me. I got used to her bickering and criticisms of the things and places around us. It was like a soundtrack, almost.”
So what happened? What happened that it suddenly stopped working?
“I don’t know, which is the hard part. I really am not sure where it went wrong. And it’s so frustrating because I don’t know which aspect of myself to change. I just want her back.

I can remember that day perfectly. She looked at me the way one would look at a new puppy they’ve have been trying to potty-train for weeks now—sad, pathetic, disappointed, over it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she told me, “things just aren’t like they used to be.” My mouth was gaping open, lips chapped already. My eyes glance around the room from the suitcase leaning against the hallway closet to her stone cold eyes, to her arms crossed in front of her chest, shaking like when she’s unsure. That’s what gave me hope. Like maybe this was just a phase she was going through, probably because she was so nervous about work, like she just got a huge manuscript to edit and her deadline is coming up.
I was thinking this would be like the time she stayed at her sister’s house after we got into the whole “kids” argument. One week, while there with her sister’s four boys and little girl, she came home and said that we’d discuss it further later. Of course, we never did. I was too scared she would leave again.”
Were things different, then? Something had to have gone wrong. People just don’t fall out of love with each other because they get sick of each other.
“Well we did—no, Lisa did. I still love her. I know that I do. She’s still all that I think about. I’ll never stop trying to get her back.”
Has it ever occurred to you that she doesn’t want you back?
“Of course it has, every day since the last time I saw her. But I decided that I can’t accept it. She said she wanted me to uphold myself, defend my actions and thoughts. Don’t succumb to her aversions and corrections, even if ‘there is no argument’,” Isaac quoted Lisa.
He could just see her standing in the middle of the doorway to their bedroom, one hand resting on her hip the other in the air, flat as if she were serving tables in a restaurant. The silk robe that floated around her ankles swallowed her small frame, falling off her shoulders. She never took “I guess” or “You’re right” for an appropriate answer if the other didn’t put up a valid argument. Isaac hated fighting, let alone with his wife—the only woman who he could never completely impress.
In high school, Isaac was completely different. People accepted him because he was extraordinary for his small town. He was both mildly athletic and had decent grades. Those combined with him above average height of six feet tall by the time he was a junior made him an ideal target for the teen girls in his school. Girls were groomed by books and movies produced in big cities to go after the tall, handsome stranger. So Isaac, the slightly overweight pushover looming in the back corner of the classroom, was the closest they found. Those silly girls just wanted praise and to hear that they were the prettiest and smartest in Luckey, Ohio. Which was easy enough because all Isaac wanted in return was for someone to hold his hand and lead him along the way.
But Lisa was different. She didn’t want to be called smart or pretty, let alone on the first date. She was more difficult to understand and impress. She liked intellectual arguments and wore her glasses pushed up to hold her hair back when she got in the middle of a heated discussion. She cut up her meals with her steak knife in her non-dominant hand because she reasoned that a fork would be better for inducing injuries and not death. She said things and brought up points that made Isaac think long and hard—something none of his past girlfriends had required of him. Lisa got bored with him so easily on dates, Isaac could never do enough to entertain her.
“That’s why I love her. Because she’s never satisfied with me.”
That’s not love, that’s a competition. And, Buddy, it sounds to me like you’re losing.
“No, but don’t you get it? I’m done with that. I know what I have to do to completely please her. I just need one last chance with her. I’ll tell her, ‘Lisa, baby,’—No that’s no good, she never liked being called ‘baby.’ Maybe ‘darling’? Yeah, her eyes always softened when I called her that. Okay, I’ll drive home. I’ll say to her, ‘Lisa, darling, I understand in the past we’ve had difficulties in communicating to each other. And that’s my fault completely. But that’s who I am and if you love me still like I know—or hope—that you do, then we can make this work. I know I make you happy and you’ve got to miss me. Please?’ Yeah, that’s good.”
Oh, please. Don’t be silly. That little speech isn’t going to solve any of your problems. If you tell her it’s all your fault, she’ll just agree with you. She’ll say to you there’s no going back. Just give it up.
“I can’t. I won’t,” Isaac shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ruthie shuffle over to his booth.
“How’re we doin’ over here? You still workin’ on that?” She asked, eyeing the plate Isaac had barely touched, whatever remaining heat was holding the remnants of the eggs together and they had now completely liquefied. Whatever remains hadn’t been soaked up by the toast now sat in a pool in the middle of the plate.
“No, I’m done, thanks. Check?”
“Certainly,” Ruthie replied, pulling out an already printed receipt from her front pouch and setting it on the table with a smile. I’ll take you up at the register whenever you’re ready,” Ruthie hopped back to the register and ducked under the counter, standing attentively at the register before Isaac could reach into his back pocket and get out his wallet.
“I’ll be back,” he mumbled, not completely sure if it made sense to say this to someone—something—who may or may not be physically present and fully functioning.
He gave Ruthie exact change, rumbling in his pockets for the nickel and three pennies he owed. With a nod, he made his way back to his booth to retrieve his camera and shopping bag, with a pair of earrings that made him think of Lisa.
Same time tomorrow?
With a smile, Isaac nodded and sauntered out of the door. He looked back towards his booth as he blocked the sun streaming from above him. Ruthie was at the table, kneeling on the space where the soft voice had been speaking to Isaac, picking up unused salt packets that had fallen during his meal. Ruthie balanced his two plates on her right hand and held his cup in her left. She made no indication of making moves around the booth seat across from Isaac where Estelle was sitting. Isaac thought for a brief moment if he had completely made the conversation up. He immediately took it back, reasoning Estelle really seemed to care about him and there could be no way that she wasn’t real.

The next afternoon, Isaac leaned against the same lifeguard chair he had the day before. His disposable camera rested in the side pocket of a pair of cargo shorts, which he was trying hard to keep out of the way of his towering ice cream cone. He had failed to keep his shirt drip-free, a dri-fit material the clerk at Dunham’s had promised made him look slimmer and therefore younger.

Isaac noticed the bags had begun to form under his eyes, thanks to a sleepless night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He had been able to block out her voice as he sat alone on the beach, allowing the tide to rise and tip toe towards his bare feet buried in the sand. But as soon as Isaac slipped the key card to his hotel room in the slot and was alone in complete silence with his thoughts, her voice haunted him.
Her voice seeped through the vents in the walls and crawled into the bed next to him. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck, inching closer and closer until the only separating the two were the small hairs that had just begun to grow back and trail down the back of his t-shirt. He imagined her brown hair falling from the bow tied at the back of her head. They tickled his cheeks from her space, where Isaac imagined her hovering inches above his nose.
She sat in the chair adjacent from the bed. Staring at him. Methodically humming into his head, telling lies about Lisa. She never loved you. She doesn’t deserve you. Move on. Until Isaac’s eyes snapped open, hoping to catch her in the chair. Her work shirt still on and misbuttoned with tab of syrup on the left collar.
But when he sat up in bed, pulling himself from the pool of sweat that had gathered under his lower back, his eyes searched an empty room. The only thing in the cushioned seat was the menu for room service and the pay-per-view TV channel listings. He would get up, search around the chair, then get his jug of water he bought at a gas station just outside of town from the mini fridge. After a few long gulps, if he wasn’t completely convinced he was the only soul in his room, he’d go to the bathroom and splash his face with cold water. “Alright, Isaac, pull yourself together,” his reflection commanded him. Once he was persuaded, Isaac would retreat back to his bed, the sheets pulled up and twisted in on themselves. Lying on his back with his eyes open, Isaac held his breath to listen for the slightest sound, even a gust of wind that brushed back the curtains. After he counted to 128 seconds without hearing anything but the short gasps of his own breath, Isaac felt comfortable enough to close his eyes and try to fall back asleep. But no matter what, the voice came back.
Eventually, she just stopped talking. She stayed put in her corner of the room, watching Isaac sleep. It got to be calming and put Isaac to sleep after a while. That combined with the strokes brushing up and down his arms, accompanied with the occasional “shhh” that appeared anytime Isaac stirred.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Isaac shook his head. He thought about what a bad dream that was, must have been the Cajun fries that gave him nightmares. Lisa believed that mumbo-jumbo, she always restricted what he ate after nine o’clock, claiming his leg kicks and snoring were caused by the spicy and high-fat foods he ate, which gave him nightmares and woke her up.

Isaac walked down the boardwalk with his hands in his pockets and his head bobbing with each step he took. He didn’t pay much attention to the people and shops around him, he was only focused on seeing Estelle, the only thing that has made him truly “excited” since the last time he saw Lisa.

He stepped out of the way of the lemonade cart that rattled past him, the left back wheel not even touching the ground anymore because it was so out of place. This was how Isaac knew that he was getting further away from the tourist shops and the more populated places on the beach and boardwalk, and closer to Estelle’s. His mind wandered and he began to think about the first time him and Lisa met.
It was springtime and Lisa’s cheeks were flushed like the pink roses that blossomed in the coffee shop window. There was a long line for the morning coffee, much longer than usual for the independent store, “Coffee, May I?”, it was called and the lines snaked around the oak tables like vines. Lisa was in front of him in line, he hadn’t even noticed her. She was so much shorter than him that he looked right over her hair slicked back into a tight bun. He hadn’t noticed her at all until she fell backwards and spilled her coffee all over her blouse and Isaac’s pants.
Isaac stopped his pace in midstride when he noticed a red sign hanging in the doorway of Estelle’s. Isaac could barely make out the CLOSED in bold white letters behind the layer of dust that coated the front door. He shook is head and backed away from the door. This was definitely the restaurant he ate at yesterday, there was nothing else around it so there was no way he could have gotten it confused with something else. As Isaac peered closer into the window, he could see the familiar mirrors lining the back wall, only they were shattered and had graffiti strewn across them. No pictures hung on the wall across from the counter, instead spider webs hung in the corner and drooped down. With a grimace, Isaac kicked a rock.


“Must be closed for a lunch break,” he reasoned and walked back the way he came down the boardwalk, Lisa’s sweet voice still playing in the back of his mind from the day they first met.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lisa had gotten lost in her book while she waited for her coffee to be ready at the counter. She stood with her feet pushed together tight and her head borrowed in the book, one hand at the spine of the book holding it open and the other moving across the page and following with her eyes as she scanned each line. Her coffee order had been called a few times, but Lisa was so consumed in her book that she didn’t even realize. It was only until the barista called her name that her head snapped up from its horizontal position. Just as her hand jerked towards the counter to get her drink, Isaac was reaching to get his. As Lisa swung her arm around to walk out the door, her elbow knocked into Isaac, causing her to fall backwards and the drink to spill all over the front of her pink blouse and on Isaac’s pants.
It was like a movie, really. They hadn’t even looked at each other until they both bent down to pick up Lisa’s papers that had gone flying everywhere. Isaac remembered feeling embarrassed and didn’t want to look into her eyes because of the dramatically different sizes of their hands. Hers were small and petite, her slight fingers looked like they could break any second because of the delicate jewelry that cluttered them and her wrists; or like they could break if Isaac had knocked into them too much with his bumbling hands. The thought genuinely scared Isaac, he rushed to pick up the last coffee-stained pages from and snapped his head up. Isaac hadn’t thought that Lisa would be directly above him, so he hit her forehead. She backed away from Isaac, grasping her forehead tightly, as if it might fall off and roll across the floor if she pulled her hand away. Horrified, Isaac reached out to her and lightly touched her arm.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I just did that. Are you okay? Can I get something? Some ice?” Isaac asked frantically.

Lisa groaned and pulled her hand from her forehead, “No, I’m fine,” she said in a stern tone that immediately took Isaac aback.

“Are you sure? I can you ice, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem,” Isaac asked again. Lisa pulled her hand back from her forehead, where a red mark was already starting to appear.

Lisa must have seen his eyes widened because after she whimpered, “Is there a mark? Is it swelling?” Isaac nodded and winced. Lisa sighed and said, “Well, I suppose I better get some ice then.” Lisa walked to the counter and Isaac picked up her papers that had fallen again when the two bumped heads.
He picked up the book she was reading in line and a thick pile of papers typed in old newspaper script and bound with thick plastic material. The first page was blank except for two lines in the middle of the page that read RINGS IN THE WATER – DRAFT 6. Lisa came back with a clear plastic cup filled with ice.

“This is the best they could do, I guess,” she said with a chuckle. Isaac pulled his eyes from the papers in his hand and looked at her for the first time, really, since he got here. Her face was small and features very close together.

She had hazel eyes, which Isaac later figured out were greener in direct sunlight and reminded him of the ring his mother wore on special occasions, and her nose was small and looked like it had been squished in. Her lips were pursed and painted with red gloss. She glanced up at Isaac and saw his look of exasperation.


“Is it bad?” She asked as she touched her forehead and winced when she felt the large bump.


“Uh…no…well I mean, you’ll be fine. Just keep the ice on it,” Isaac replied. Lisa nodded and replaced the cup on her forehead. “So, do you—can I get you another coffee?”


“No, thank you. I’m late enough as it is,” she replied as she attempted to wipe the coffee from her blouse, which was now sticking to her.


“Please, it’s the least I could do.”


“I said I’m alright. Thank you, though.”


“Well you’re already late, what difference is a few more minutes going to make?”

“I really shouldn’t. I have things to do…”

“Are you writing a story”

“Excuse me?”

Isaac pointed at the thick papers in her hand, “Is that yours? Did you write it?”

“Oh, no, I don’t write. I edit. I mean, I’m editing this manuscript. That’s what I do for a living.”

“Do you like it?”

“Well yes, it—well what do I have to tell you for? I don’t even know who you are. You just spilled your coffee on me, why should I tell you anything?”
“Hey, that’s not fair, I said I was sorry. And anyway, that was your coffee you spilled. Because you weren’t paying attention, reading your story.”
“I’m editing a manuscript, I told you. This coffee shop is usually dead in the morning, or generally not busy, so it’s taking longer than expected. I’m behind on my deadlines because she sent me another draft before I was through with the last one and… Anyways it’s none of your business.”
“Aw, c’mon, let me make it up to you. I’ll buy you a new coffee.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“I know it isn’t, I’m just trying to help.”
“Thank you, but I really should get going. I should get back to my office where I can think. It’s chaos in here.”
“Talk to me. Maybe I can help you out here.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be? A job to go to, perhaps?”
“Nope, I do work independently until noon, then I go to my office,” Lisa looked around the coffee shop and the slowly dwindling line, “I don’t have anywhere to be for another…” Isaac trailed off as he looked at his watch, “…four hours? Four and a half? I’m all ears.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“But you want to,” Isaac smirked at Lisa.
“And how do you know what I want?”
“I have a pretty good guess. Also, you really look like you could use a morning pick-me-up.”
Lisa gasped at him, “Might I remind you that it’s your fault my coffee was spilled all over my new shirt?”
“Woah, now. I thought we established it was you who turned around so fast you knocked your arms into me and dropped your papers and coffee all over the both of us and my favorite pants.”
“Your drink is still intact, however, and mine is seeping into my shoes.”
“Mine, as well.”
“Well, I suppose you owe it to me, then.”
Isaac chuckled and pulled his wallet from his back pocket and he said, “I guess I do, what drink did you say that was?”
“I didn’t, chai tea latte,” Lisa said with a smile.
The two waited in line together and Isaac asked her about her job, without much success. She replied in mostly one-word answers and “I guess so” and head nods. As soon as Lisa got her second cup of coffee, she gave him a firm head nod.
“Thank you, again, for the coffee. But really, it wasn’t necessary.”
“I know, I told you that I wanted to.”
“Well, thanks again. See you,” Lisa said curtly and she started towards the door.
“Say, you never told me your name,” Isaac said, stopping her by grasping her arm.
“Lisa,” she said briskly, her eyes still glued to the door.
“Isaac,” he introduced himself as he held his hand out for her to shake.
She grabbed his hand quickly and shook his hand once.
“Do you think I could see you again, sometime?” Isaac asked, grabbing her once more by the arm.
Lisa was visibly annoyed at this point, “I’m sorry, but I really should get to work.”
“Well I didn’t mean now. What are you doing this weekend?”

“I’m very busy,” she insisted.
“All weekend?”
“I’ll have to see,” Lisa started to shake her leg.
“Well then can I call you sometime?”

“Oh, no, I don’t give my number out to strangers, sorry.”
“C’mon, am I really a stranger at this point?”
“Yes. I have to go.”
“Well how could we become better acquainted? Dinner sometime?”
“I can’t talk about this now. I’m so late. I have to go.”
“Well here, take my number,” Isaac said as he pulled a pen from his pocket and started to scribble on the side of his cup sleeve. “You know, I usually don’t give my number out to strangers, either. But I really feel like I know you. So I’ll make an exception,” Isaac handed the sleeve to Lisa. She slipped it in her pocket without looking at it.
“Look, I really appreciate the gesture. But I’m busy.”
“That’s fine. I can wait.”
“Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”
“I don’t know, so…helpful. Rather, you don’t think about what you say before you say it.”
Isaac shrugged, “I do, I just like to put myself out there.”
“I can tell. You really ought to be careful. You don’t know the kind of people that are out there.”
“I know who I can trust.”
“Well maybe people don’t like being harassed.”
Isaac furrowed his eyebrows, “Is that what you think I’m doing? Harassing you? Look I was just trying to be nice.”
“Yes, yes, I know. I didn’t mean it like—”Lisa said with a sigh, “Anyway, thank you for…this,” she said holding up the coffee cup.
“No problem. I really didn’t mean to offend you, I was just trying to be nice.”
“I know you were. I should go now.”
“I really am sorry.”
“You said that already.”
“I know, I’m sorry, I—“
“Why do you keep telling me that you’re sorry? I said it’s alright. I appreciate the coffee and, you know, this,” Lisa said, flashing the coffee sleeve from inside her pocket.
Isaac sighed, “Okay.”
“Okay? Well I’m going to get going. I’m so late.”
“It was nice meeting you, Lisa.”
“You, too, Isaac.”
“Hey, call me sometime, alright?”
Lisa nodded as she opened the door, “Will do,” she promised.
Isaac shook his head with a smile and sat at a coffee table by the window and watched Lisa crawl into her small car, hands full and fumbling with wet papers and her coffee cup. She saw him looking at her and gave him a short, small wave with a smirk before she drove away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lisa never did call him. A week went by before he saw her again, this time at a different coffee shop a block over from the one they first met at.
Isaac had been going to “Coffee May I?” every day for the next week or so following his first meeting with Lisa. He had tried to synchronize his visits with the time that was on his coffee receipt, in hopes that Lisa followed a precise schedule and would be there each day. He’d wait around for half an hour or so, slowly sipping his coffee until it was lukewarm and the bitter taste would settle permanently in the back of his throat. He would take his time pouring the leftover coffee into the small bin next to the trash can, waiting until every last drop had dribbled from the lip of his coffee cup into the pool of stale coffee. Isaac would hover by the door for a little longer, fiddling with his belt buckle or looking at the flavors of fresh biscotti’s available for today before finally giving up and walking two blocks over and one block down to get to his bus stop.
It had been almost two weeks since Isaac and Lisa had first met, and for those two weeks Isaac was obsessively waiting around in Coffee May I? for another chance meeting with Lisa. Each time, Isaac found himself staying longer and longer at the table in the back, the same one he sat at after Lisa left the first time they met, sometimes pulling a newspaper with him and peering over the top of the paper and out of the window in hopes of seeing Lisa’s small, green car rattle next to the curb.
Isaac liked pattern and he started to get uncomfortable when things didn’t follow the pattern he’s adjusted to.
He was becoming more and more crazed with each unsuccessful visit he had to this coffee shop and less inconspicuous, sometimes even leaning against the brick wall in front of her parking space and linger in hopes that Lisa was just running late.
He left Coffee May I? and was walking to get his bus home when he noticed Lisa’s little green car parked a few blocks down, this time in front of a new place, Abracajava’s. Isaac crossed the street and peered in her car’s back window to see a stack of papers in the same style and font as the one Lisa had the week before, this time reading COQUI TANGO – DRAFT 2.
Looking in the store window in front of him, Isaac could see Lisa’s bun tightly fastened to the top of her head. She was standing in the middle of the line, foot tapping impatiently and fingers clenching the handles of her tote bag tightly.
Isaac threw away his cup of coffee in the trashcan on the corner and walked into Abracajava. He waited patiently in the back of the line, his mind racing trying to find a plan of action. Lisa was checking her watch every few seconds, leaning out of the line to see what was taking the baristas so long with the drinks.
As Lisa got closer to the front of the line, Isaac realized that he was still in the middle, if not still the back, of the line and Lisa probably wouldn’t see him unless he called her over, which he knew she wouldn’t react well to. Isaac ducked out of line and went to the bathroom without Lisa seeing him.
Isaac stood in front of the mirror and counted to 80 seconds before he came out of the bathroom to see Lisa waiting at the counter for her drink, exactly how Isaac had planned.
“So I see you learned your lesson about reading in line?” Isaac said from behind Lisa. Lisa turned her head cautiously and her eyes widened when she saw Isaac. Isaac could never figure out whether it was a look of surprise or mortification.
“Oh! What are you doing here?”

“Same as you, getting my morning coffee. Well actually, I just finished mine.”

“That’s nice. Well, it was good seeing you,” Lisa said with a sharp nod and turned around to face the counter, eyeing the barista unwaveringly as he made Lisa’s drink.

“So, I never got a call from you?”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Like I said, I’m really busy.”

“That’s fine, I understand completely.” Lisa nodded, still without taking her eyes off of the barista behind the counter. “So, what about now?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well what are you up to now?”

“I’m a very busy woman, you know.”

“I can tell, I like that in you. You have a sort of zest, I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Most people call it Type A.”

“Nah, I’d say it’s more outspoken.”

Lisa nodded in approval as her coffee cup was placed on the counter. She smiled at the barista and turned on her heel without another word to Isaac, started towards the door.

Isaac started after her, “So, anyways, I guess I was trying to ask you if you were busy now? Maybe this weekend?” Isaac was cut off by the bell on top of the door that rang as Lisa pushed the door open and began to walk towards her car. “Is that a no?”

“Okay, what are you trying to do here?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you keep asking me if I’m busy?”

“Because I want to see you and talk to you somewhere where I don’t have to yell over the sound of coffee beans being grinded every fifteen seconds.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Lisa huffed and pulled her sunglasses from her bag and pushed them over her nose, “Why do you want to talk to me more?”

“Why not?” Lisa cocked her head to one side, as if to tell Isaac that answer wasn’t sufficient. “Well I’m sorry I didn’t exactly come with a list of reasons prepared. I don’t know what to tell you. You interest me. I want to talk to you more.”

“Just call me, please. Alright?” Lisa sighed and looked down at the ground. “Do you still have that coffee sleeve?” Lisa furrowed her eyebrows, still looking at the ground. “With my number?”
Lisa’s eyes widened and shook her head, “No…” she trailed off.
“Well what did you do with it?” Isaac said with a laugh, trailing off.
“I threw it away,” Lisa said, matter of fact and crossing her arms.
“Woah, I’m sorry. I was just joking,” Isaac said. This didn’t seem to faze Lisa and didn’t pull her eyes from the scuff marks on the toes of her pink shoes. “I really am sorry. I was just trying…”
“It’s fine. You’re not effecting as much as you seem to think.” Isaac’s mouth fell open at Lisa’s sudden ignorance, she must have picked up on this and realized she might have been out of line, “Do you have a pen?” She asked with a smile, pulling out a piece of paper from her purse. Isaac smiled sheepishly and pulled a pen from his pants pocket. He watched Lisa write in loopy handwriting, that might have looked like big swirls from far away, and possibly could have resembled a business card:
LISA C.
(240) 983-3277


She handed it to him with a straight face, but once she saw Isaac’s grin spread across his face as she handed it to him, she smiled slightly, as well.

“I’ll call you,” Isaac promised.

Lisa nodded and smiled back at Isaac, “You’d better, after you went through all of this trouble.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Isaac said, as he slid the paper into his front pocket.

Lisa smirked and slid into her car, Isaac watched as she put on her sunglasses with a smile and drive away.

He shook his head and began aimlessly walking down the boardwalk, throwing away his soggy ice cream cone as his burning feet hit the wooden planks. As he came closer to Estelle’s, he started to think about the voice that had visited him last night and how much he wanted to hear it again.
He peered in the glass windows and saw, once again, an empty diner, save for Helena sitting at the end of the bar hunched over two stack of paper, scribbling vigorously on one stack then moving that piece of paper face down to the other stack.
The door creaked louder than Isaac had remembered yesterday, piercing the stale air yet hardly pulling Helena from her concentration. Her hair was not pulled into its usual chopsticks, though instead pushed back with the glasses fastened with a chain hanging from her neck.
Isaac hesitated in the doorway, “’Scuse me, you guys open?” He asked Helena, motioning to the empty, still diner, without even a sizzle from the grill in the back kitchen. Helena didn’t acknowledge him. “Hi, sorry, I don’t know if you heard—“ She hushed him by poising her index finger, continuing to write with her other hand. Isaac leaned against one of the bar stools, squeaking loudly when he tried to swivel it.
“Yessir, we are,” Helena started, pulling her glasses down to the bridge of her nose, “Sit anywhere you—Oh, back for more I see?” She said as her eyes focused and she recognized Isaac from the previous two days.
“Ha, yes. Figured I’d come by once more.”
“Well I certainly appreciate that. Sit anywhere you’d like.”

Isaac nodded and walked towards the back booth he had been sitting at yesterday. Helena immediately brought back a menu and a glass of water in one hand and a pot of coffee in the other, dangling a mug by her thumb in the other.
“Coffee, again?” She asked after she set down the menu and water, Isaac nodded approvingly. After she poured the coffee, Helena said, “I’ll give you a minute with the menu. Be back in a few, alright?” Isaac nodded again. As soon as Helena sat back down at her place on the counter and pushed her glasses back on top of her head to begin her paperwork, Isaac leaned against the table.
“Hello?”
He waited and there was no answer.
“Hello? Are you there?”
A few moments passed without so much as a whisper. Dissatisfied, Isaac slumped back in his seat and buried his face in his menu. He was looking at the lunch and dinner options when he felt something graze the back of his hand softly.
I wouldn’t recommend the grilled cheese, it’s always overcooked.
“You’re back,” Isaac said with a slight smile
I never left.
“Never?”
I can’t . I haven’t left this diner in almost forty years.
“What do you mean you can’t? Aren’t ghosts able to, you know, go where they want?”
Well I haven’t met nearly as many ghosts as you seem to have met, but I can’t leave. After that third booth, it’s like quicksand. I’m stuck.
“Why not?”
Like I’d know. After I passed, I wasn’t sure where I expected to go—heaven, hell, purgatory, I don’t know. Certainly I didn’t think that I’d end up back here.
“Where did you, you know, die?”
On the highway, about twenty-or-so miles up the road. Car crash.
Isaac winced.
It’s fine. I wanted to get away.
“Did you, was it…”
Suicide? No, no, nothing like that. I wasn’t that desperate. I just wanted to get out of this town. I started the diner for my father, Frank. Opening a diner of his own was a dream he’s told me about for as long as I could remember. He spent his whole life saving up every penny he earned just to open it. Once a property finally opened up close to him, he was already old and sick. My mother wanted nothing to do with it, she thought it was a silly idea and was upset my father spent more time and money opening the diner than he did on her. So his last dying wish for me to take over and open it. And I did.
“So what was the problem? Where did it all go wrong?”
I don’t know, I just didn’t think it would be as much work as it was. It was just me and my sister running it. But she had a husband and family already, so she couldn’t spend all of her time here. And I enjoyed it in the beginning. I loved cooking and hiring people and being in charge. It was the first time I had been given that much responsibility. But it was too much. I worked every day and I couldn’t take it. I slowly started to hire more people and give people more of my responsibilities. My and my boyfriend at the time left in the middle of the night. We were planning on driving up to New York, figured we could both get jobs up there. I only told my sister where I was going. We never made it through the night.
My aunt never told anyone, I guess she figured I wouldn’t want anyone to know. Three days later, I ended up here. And I’ve been here ever since. Waiting.
“Waiting for what?”
I’m not sure, to be honest. I just always felt like there was something more, you know? Like there has to be a reason that I’m trapped here. I knew something, or someone, would come for me.
Isaac felt his cheeks flush, “Well what have you been doing in the meantime?
Just sit here, mostly. Think about how things used to be. I’ve seen Harry make just about everything on the menu so far. Like I said, stay away from the Grilled Cheese. I would recommend a hamburger, maybe. Hope you like your fries extra salty.
Isaac glanced over the menu and shrugged, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
How about the pulled pork? It may not be healthy but man is it good.
“That sounds great actually, but, it’s Tuesday.”
And? What’s the problem?
“Nothing, really. It’s just, me and Lisa, we—“
Lisa? As in your ex?
Isaac could feel his shoulders tense up at the word ‘ex.’ “Yes…Anyway we, uh, we had this tradition on Tuesdays.”
So? You have to grow out of that. Stop thinking about her so much because I can almost guarantee she isn’t mulling over you like this.
“I can’t hear that…no, no, no. I know she misses me, too. She has to. We were so good for each other. We got along. She was content with me.”
Content isn’t love. This is over. Find a new Tuesday night tradition.
“I can’t, I never will.”
You have to. Try harder.
“I can’t. I love her. I don’t know what to do. You’ve got to know what I’m feeling. What about your boyfriend? The one you ran away with?”
I haven’t seen him since the night we left. I ended up here, staring into the empty space reflecting back at me and he was nowhere to be found. I used to scream his name, I thought it would make him hear me, like maybe he was lost and just wandering around trying to find me. But no one ever came and people walked right through me. I came to terms with it because I thought that there must be something else out there for me. And there is something, or someone out there for you, too.
“How can you be so sure?”
It’s the truth.
“No. It’s not. The truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever grow out of eating spaghetti and meatballs with bow tie pasta for dinner every Tuesday night. It was the one meal I could cook that Lisa would approve of and she admitted that she couldn’t cook it any better than I could.
Every Tuesday, my boss lets the whole office go at three o’clock so he can drive his son to soccer practice. I’d stop at the grocery store on the way home and pick up bow-tie pasta because it was her favorite and fresh ground-beef. Sometimes, French vanilla ice cream if we fought the day before and I had a feeling she was still mad at me.
On the drive home, I would tune the radio to 102.9 because it was her favorite station. Even though the music was boring and could put me to sleep if I tried hard enough, I like to listen to it and imagine that she was in the passenger seat next to me, with her hands folded neatly in her lap, as if she were at church, and her head swinging to the smooth piano rhythms.
I’d be home by four, still giving me two hours until Lisa would pry her bony fingers away from the keyboard and hard manuscripts and begin her drive home. Leaving me just enough time to set the table, the way she liked it with her side facing the window, until the timer went off for the meatballs. I would set the dishes on the table just as Lisa stepped through the door. She’d be mid-way through her sentence about her long, trying day with a room full of incompetent airheads by the time she hangs up her coat and purse behind the front door and makes her way to the table, where a glass of sparkling lemon water is waiting for her.
I would barely be able to get a word in all dinner except for the occasional “mhmm” and “Sally is the red-haired one, right?”
At the end of the meal, she would smile lightly and say “Good as always, but you should try pepper in the meatballs next time,” as she kissed me on the cheek and made her way upstairs with a pile of unedited manuscripts. Leaving me to wash the dishes and later doze off on the couch alone to a booming TV sports announcer and Lisa’s sighs of disbelief from upstairs.
It’s been three months since she packed my bags for me and I still eat bow-tie pasta and meatballs—with no pepper—every Tuesday.”
Aw, come on. That was real cute and all. But what do you think Lisa would say if she saw you like this?
Isaac thought for a moment.
Because from what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like she’s this hung up on you. She hasn’t called you back, not even when you know she’s sitting on the couch, her legs curled underneath her and a bed sheet, trimmed fingernails clicking through the TV guide trying to find something mildly entertaining to fall asleep to.
“But you don’t—hey, where’d you get the idea that I’m calling her? That she isn’t calling me back? I never told you that?”

Are you sure?
“Yes.”
How sure are you? Isaac, I think you’ve told me more than you think.
“I’m absolutely positive. You are the only one I’ve talked to about Lisa recently—probably because you’re the only one who’s listened—and I would have remembered telling you that.”
True, but you have thought it.
“Oh, so now you’re going to tell me you can hear what I’m thinking.
Depends.
“Depends on what?”
If you want me to hear it or not.
“What are you talking about?”
Isaac, I’m here to help you.
Isaac sat back in the booth seat skeptically and accidentally hit his knee on the top of the table, letting off a loud “thump” sound and Isaac to groan. Helena looked up from her pile of papers frantically.
“Oh! Oh my, I almost forgot you were here. I’m so sorry, poor you over there trying to get my attention, bangin’ off of the tables and such,” Helena pushed the glasses onto the tip of her nose and scurried over to Isaac with a notepad and pen in hand, “What can I get for you, hun? You want a sandwich? Some Coke?”
“Uhm, no, actually, thank you. I was actually just stopping for a quick bite to eat. Could I maybe just have a side of onion rings? And a Diet Coke, please?”
“Of course, I’ll put your order right in for you,” Helena walked away lazily.
So you’re sticking with the spaghetti and meatballs for dinner tonight?
“Yes. I really can’t give up on this. I know it will work out for me in the end.” Isaac sat in silence for a moment. “I know that this is unhealthy for me, okay? I know that I’m being irrational and a bit too hopeful. But what happens if I just give up? Nothing. Nothing at all will happen. That’s why I have to keep pursuing her, trying to convince her that she misses me like I know she must. She just has to.”
But what about Lisa? Have you ever thought your making this harder on her? Maybe you two separating will be better in the long run. Were you ever really happy when you were with her, anyway?
“What…yes…definitely. She made me happy.”
Why does it sound like you’re trying to convince yourself?
“I’m not. I know we made each other happy. She wouldn’t have been with me for as long as she did if we didn’t. You don’t even know her. It’s just how Lisa was.”
So what really changed, then?
“I’ve told you, I don’t know.” Isaac sat back and waited for a response. When he didn’t hear anything, he thought some more, “Well, I don’t know. Things were different the last few weeks. It seemed like Lisa just did a complete 180. She started coming home early with a fast food bag and immediately retreating to her room. She’d stay up there until she needed some tea to keep her awake while she hibernated upstairs. Doing her work or reading, sometimes she’d be watching TV and others she’d just lay there curled up on her side with her eyes open. She wouldn’t want me to come comfort her or talk to her. I guess I got worried about her.
She’d been so distant and I got more clingy. Calling her every lunch break and on my way home and asking her what she wanted for dinner. I didn’t necessarily mean for it to get to that point, I really couldn’t help myself. The more she closed herself off, the more I wanted in.” Isaac paused. “The sad part was that I knew it was bad and I knew that I was irritating her. I could physically see her pull away from me whenever I tried to put my arms around her. Hold her hand. Kiss her. Anything.”
Let her go. She didn’t deserve you. She never did. She never showed you that she appreciated you, the voice whispered in his ear, sweet and sultry, like she was trying to persuade him. I mean, look at us. I’ve known you for, what, three days now? And already I can see how great you are. How sweet you are. How underappreciated you’ve been. You didn’t deserve that. You deserve someone who will satisfy you and your needs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night, Estelle slept with Isaac again. But not across the room, watching him in silence and disappearing whenever his eyes opened. Instead, she lay in the space next to him in bed. No matter how hard Isaac tried, he couldn’t put his arms around her like he used to do to Lisa. But he knew she was there, which was good enough and more than he’s come close to in a long time. He could feel her presence. The soft tickles that went up and down his back rhythmically came in time with the short breaths in his ear and lulled him to sleep.
Isaac was alone at first when he left the diner, managing to kill his time around boardwalk shops and a movie. He didn’t mind being alone then, he had things to occupy his thoughts and there was too much going on in his environment for Estelle’s voice to find him there. But when he was alone in his hotel room, the only sound being running water in the room next to him, she was able to find him.
First she stood next to the bed watching while Isaac laid awake with his eyes closed, calling to him.
Isaac…Isaac…It’s me…Isaac…sweetie….
Isaac would call out to her, “Estelle! Estelle I’m here!”
Hello, my dear.
Isaac let out a sigh of relief when he felt Estelle’s cool touch on his neck, her sweet words twisting their way through the tousled sheets and finding Isaac in his ear.
You know that I care for you.
Isaac nodded in agreement.
No one is good enough for you. They just don’t understand.
“You’re the only one who does,” Isaac insisted.
That’s right…that’s right…
The two slept side by side that night, Estelle never leaving his side. It had been a while since Isaac had truly slept with someone, feeling their unwavering presence beside him all through the night. Timing his breaths with their own, breathe in…count 1, 2, 3…. breathe out… count 1, 2, 3… breathe in…count 1, 2, 3… breathe out.
I love you, Estelle whispered into Isaac’s ear.

I’m having trouble keeping my orange construction hat from falling off of my head as I struggle down the boardwalk. I think that it is the hottest day of the year because I can feel the sweat dripping down from my forehead and down to the small of my back. I think again how my boss would give me this job on the hottest day of year, to do a final inspection on a restaurant before I put of the red sign to tear it down for good. A place that hasn’t seen a customer in over six years, which means the air conditioner probably hasn’t been installed, let alone working, in at least eight. I just can’t wait to officially close this restaurant because I know there will be a big bonus for me at the end if I do everything like I’m supposed to and in a timely manner, or at least that’s how my boss puts it.

It is a Saturday in June, so this is the day when everyone is arriving to the beach at the same time that others are leaving. Some times when I make my runs down the boardwalks I like to look at these tourists and try to differentiate between those leaving and those just getting here. It usually isn’t very hard, thought. You see the parents, burnt to a crisp, that looked drained as they trial with their suitcases behind their children who try to make a mad dash for the ocean at whatever chance they get. This usually only lasts for a few seconds before the father screams at them to get their ass back over here and the mom scurries over, beach chair hitting her calves as she shuffles over, and sweetly pulls her child by their shoulder back with the rest of the family. The parents are worn out from a week or so of this and exhausted from continuous sun exposure and probably can’t wait to go home and wait for the salt to finally soak out of their tired skin.
Then there are those are just arriving, their skin fresh and milky white, excitedly bounding down the boardwalk and running straight into the salty ocean, squealing with joy when the briny waves crash into their eyes and mouth for the first time since last summer.
I am walking down the boardwalk and feel slightly envious of those and I can feel my sweating feet in my work boots wanting to crawl out and sink into the ocean sand.
I sigh and tell myself that in less than one hundred steps, I will be at this diner and after a quick walkthrough, five minutes tops, I can declare it unsalvageable with the red sign I have rolled up in my back pocket and retreat to my hotel room provided to me by my company and spend the rest of the day relaxing.
I can immediately pick out the store before I am even facing it because it is the only remaining standing structure on its block. And even from the side I can tell this place is ruined. There is literally a hole in the wall, as big as a small TV set at least in the top corner, which is terrible for the building structurally. Violation number one. As I come closer, I can see the paint is peeling off of the wooden walls and there are lot of smaller holes scattered around. Swiss-cheese wall makes violation number two. I mark these two down in my small notepad and continue to the storefront, where I can already see broken glass littering the ground.
I am standing at the corner of the storefront, barely even around the corner and I can see the lattice of cracked glass covering the window. Something small and round, probably a rat or rodent of some kind, runs across my field of view through cracked space in the door and into the restaurant. I know from experience that rats will go directly for their nest the moment they see humans or a kind of danger to warn the others in their colony. And in a space this size and for as long as it has been abandoned, I can guess there are twenty or so rats living in this space. Civilization of rats makes violation number three. I am noting all of this in my notepad when I hea3r a scraping sound, like clattering on a ceramic plate. Like someone was in the diner. I think this is impossible because it isn’t logical for someone to be in here and try to ignore it. Until I hear whispers. Now I’m curious, and slightly worried.
I pull the flashlight from my tool belt and open the door. There is a clunk as the door hits a tarnished bell. The clapper must have fallen or rusted off because there is no ringing sound as the door opens. I shake my flashlight around and don’t see anything, until I see an elbow edge out of the back booth.
“Hello?” I call out, “Who’s back there?”
The elbow freezes and I hear some muffled whispering, though I can’t make out what they’re saying.
“Hello?”
“No, I’m okay, thank you,” the voice calls out, their body appearing from behind the wall and waving a hand before retreating back to their original position hiding.
“Sir? I’m sorry but you can’t be in here,” I tell him, inching towards the booth cautiously, aiming my flashlight where I saw his face appear the first time.
After more muted whispers, the man came out again, “I said no, I do not need a refill on the coffee. Thank you, again.” The man shifted in his seat and began talking in a low voice across the table.
I stand puzzled and let my flashlight fall from my hand and dangle from the strap around my wrist. I shake my head and edge towards the booth from my space at the front of the store. What little light there is floods through the cracks in the window, the rest is blocked from the layers of dust and spray paint that coat the wall. The closer I get to the man and his booth, the less light I can see. I am squinting because my eyes are straining to adjust in the dim light.
“Sir, I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave,” I tell him.
“I’m not done with my meal, Ruth,” the man replied, his fingers scrapping like nails on a chalkboard against his plate. I squint as I try to focus my eyes on his dark plate. There was something on it, something I couldn’t make out. “These eggs are excellent by the way. The best yet, give my best to Harry.”
I turn my flashlight back on and shine it on the plate. I see something move and go under the table, in a hole in the wall, somewhere. I am about to ask him why his food moved when I look closer and se that there is still some food left on his plate. Dead bugs. . Some belly up, like a fish in water. Some halves scattered around the plate. Like a forgotten battlefield.
“Ruth, c’mon now. What’re you doing with my food?” The man yelled to me.
“Sir, I didn’t touch your…plate…” I trail off because I’m not sure what to call it. Let alone question him why he’s alone in this dark diner eating bugs.
“Ruth, this really is rude.”
“My name is not Ruth,” I try to tell him.
“Now you’re ruining my meal. I’m trying to talk to Estelle here,” the man pointed across the table to the seat in front of him. The empty seat.
I flash my light there, too, to make sure there isn’t something creepy like a skeleton or a shrine of dead bugs. But there is nothing there, not even an implant of where something might have been. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“But I haven’t finished my dinner. Estelle hasn’t either.”
“Sir, please. I have a job to do.”
“Ruth, I know your job is being a waitress. And part of that job is to make sure that me and my girl here are satisfied. What was that, Estelle?” The man cut himself off and looked across the table, listening intently. “You’re done? Dear, you’ve barely finished your macaroni,” the man pushed his plate across the table and smiled, as if he were staring into the eyes of his love.
I back out of the diner, tripping over my clunky boots as I keep my hand in front of my nose and mouth to keep the dust from floating in. I feel something soft glide between my legs. I struggle to focus my flashlight on the object before it disappears into a hole in the wall.