Rather than go home, I decided to go to the diner early. It was close enough to school that I wouldn’t need to take the bus, and serving food was far more appealing than going home. I walked down the dusty sidewalk, avoiding every crack and making sure to take the same amount of steps in every block. The traffic was extremely loud this morning. Cars were honking endlessly, and people were yelling through their windows. One man went as far as to step out of his vehicle and walk over to the car in front of him to yell at the other driver. The latter rolled up his window so that it was only open a crack, and then proceeded to yell back.
          It was like hearing nails on a chalkboard. I took out my headphones and put them on. I didn’t have anything to attach them to, but it still deadened some of the noise. I relaxed and
continued on my way, keeping my eyes on the concrete below me and pretending the world around simply did not exist.
          In my lack of attention, I failed to see the tall human walking toward me with his own head down. I collided with him and crumpled to the ground. I blinked a few times and looked up.
The boy was still on his feet, but he had stumbled back a few steps. He didn’t look hurt, but my face turned fire engine red. Even though I knocked into people constantly, very often injuring both myself and the other person, I preferred to keep my eyes on the ground when I was outside.
          “I-I-I’m sorry,” I said.
          “It’s no problem. Are you all right?”
          I was too overwhelmed to say anything, so I just nodded. I recognized him as a boy I
shared a Physics class with, but he didn’t seem to know who I was.
          He offered me a smile and said, “You should be in school.”
          He started walking down the sidewalk again, and I called after him, “Why aren’t you in school?”
          “Doctor’s appointment. I’ve got terrible knees, you see.”
          “A boy who won’t be good may as well be made of wood,” I said.
          He continued on his way without turning back. I groaned and rubbed the back of my head. The morning was going exactly how I thought it would. If only I had stayed inside. The boy disappeared around a corner, and after a few deep breaths, I started walking my own way,
again. I decided to ignore the pain in the back of my head. My headphones had fallen off, but I was now too preoccupied with berating myself to notice anything else, noise and all.
          I stopped in front of an old building that I rarely frequented so early in the day. It was dimly lit, and the outside looked to be entirely made of metal. A neon red sign that read, ‘Lazlo’s
Diner’ hung above its double doors. There were huge windows that looked out onto the street, but only two people sat behind them inside. It was a relatively small restaurant, and there was always a lull this time of day.
          I took the steps up to the front door and went inside. The air conditioner washed over me as soon as I opened the door, and I shivered. Lenny’s body tended to run hotter than most, and everyone was forced to suffer for him. He reminded everyone who complained that it was his
restaurant, and he was the one in control of the thermostat. It was a sore subject, for some reason.
          I walked over to the counter and sat on one of the metal stools. I put my elbows up and waited for Charlie to turn around. She was busy cutting pieces of apple pie and setting them on plates. She put them on a tray and turned around. Her eyebrows rose when she noticed me sitting there.
          “You are supposed to be in school,” she said.
          “Can I just stay here until my shift?” I asked.
          “That would be four hours from now. Why are you skipping classes?”
          “Got suspended.”
          “You? Why?”
          “I’m not really sure.”
          “Do you need someone to come up to the school?”
          “Uncle Robin is coming.”
          “All right. Sit down.”
          She took the tray and walked toward a group of old women sitting at a table in the back. Not one of them was talking; They were all just knitting what looked like different pieces of a blanket. When Charlie set the dessert on the table, only one of them looked up and thanked her. She pointed to the other three women and motioned to her ears. Charlie smiled and waved at them, and then went back into the kitchen.
          I pulled a sketchbook and a pencil from my bag and set them on the table. I flipped to an empty page and looked back at the old women. Two of them had stopped knitting and were working on their pies, signing at each other and laughing. I watched them make conversation between forkfuls and marveled at how effortlessly they could move their hands, even while eating.
          I sat for about an hour, just committing the scene to paper. They didn’t notice me look up at them every so often. I took note of each of their individual features. They varied so differently from each other. One of them only had wisps of white in the midst of bright red hair. Two of them were twins, and had lovely big brown doe eyes that took up a significant part of their faces.
The one who could speak looked to be the oldest of the bunch, and she had white hair that was so long that it was draped over the back of her chair and almost touched the floor.
          Charlie had set a soda and piece of pie in front of me, but I didn’t touch them. I didn’t even notice her come over to me. I was so immersed in the drawing that I couldn’t register anything else. I had to finish it before they decided to leave. I would never see them, again.
          I set my pencil down just as they finished paying their bill. They gathered their things and went to the door. The redhead was the last to leave, but before she walked out, she noticed me. She looked at the sketch and smiled, and then let go of the door and came over to my stool. She picked up my pencil and labeled each woman. Her name was Guinevere. She handed it back to me, waved, and then followed her friends outside without a word.
          “Very nice,” Charlie said from behind me.
          I looked at her. “If you say so.”
          She took the sketch from me and looked at it for a few seconds. She erased the names and rewrote them neatly, and then signed my name at the bottom and stuck it on the cork board behind the counter. There were other sketches of mine posted up here, as well. I never asked her to hang them, but she was very fond of my art. She often told me that she was sure I would be the next Picasso. I tried to explain to her that the likelihood I would be a famous painter was very
slim, but she didn’t listen. Nothing I said could change her mind.
          She went back into the kitchen, and I just turned my stool around to watch the people walking around outside. Most of them were overburdened mothers lugging their babies around. None of them looked very happy. Only two or three of them wore wedding rings, and they didn’t look any better-off than the rest. Having children was dreary and unrewarding. Parents always found a way to create complexes in their children that turned them into nervous wrecks as adults, even when trying their best not to do so. I was a prime example of that.
          A little boy I had seen many times before ran in and waved at me. He was only eight, but he always came in unescorted. He was wearing a brilliant smile, and often told me that I reminded him of his sister before she “went away.” Her name was Charlotte. He brought in a
photo, and I did very closely resemble her. I didn’t discover until months after meeting him that he was actually an orphan who lived in the run down home just down the street. His parents and
sister had died in a fire just two years ago. Despite this, he was always a happy kid.
          “Charlotte,” he said.
          “Michael,” I said. “Do you have permission to be out?”
          “Yes! Can I please have grilled cheese?”
          I got up and went into the kitchen. I tapped the tall, African American man in front of the stove. He had been dancing to a song I didn’t recognize, but stopped when he noticed me.
          “You’re here early.”
          “Grilled cheese, Lenny,” I said.
          “Coming right up.”
          I went back out, and Michael was coloring one of our kids menus. He must have done it at least fifty times, but he never tired of it. When he finished with the truck, he turned it over and started doodling. I watched him from behind the counter. His blue eyes were focused intently on the drawing. He didn’t notice or care about anything going on around him. When Charlie set the sandwich in front of him, he didn’t even look up. After a few minutes of watching his crayon fly
all over the page, I realized he was trying to copy my picture of the old women.
          I was distracted by the sudden high volume of customers that had walked in. Most of them were kids who had just finished school and were in for a cheap bite to eat. Charlie passed me an apron, and I went to a table of teenage boys from my school. I didn’t know any of them personally. They all stopped talking when they saw me, and I handed them each a menu.
          “Can I get you some drinks?” I asked.
          They all asked for water, and I walked away to get it. I grabbed four glasses and a pitcher, and then took them back to the table and poured a glass for each of them.
          “Do you need a few more minutes?” I asked.
          “Yes,” one of them said.
          I nodded and went to the next table. This one was taken by a group of girls who kept sneaking glances at the boys. They were giggling and whispering to each other. Charlie had already gotten them drinks and given them menus, but none of them had opened them. They
looked up at me in surprise, as if they hadn’t expected to be asked for a food order at a restaurant. All of them shuffled through the menu, apologizing the whole time. I waited quietly for them to choose, even though I already knew what they would order. They would ask for salads, and nothing but.
          “I’d like a Cobb salad,” one of the blondes said.
          There was a resounding “me too” from the others. I wrote it down and went back in to Lenny. I handed him the order and turned to go back to the table of boys. Before I made it to the table, my hair clip broke, and my thick brown curls fell all over my face. I picked the clip up and put it in my pocket. I rolled my hair into a bun and stuck two pens in it to hold it, and then went over to the boys.
          “Are you ready?” I asked.
          “Why’d you put your hair up?” the tallest of them asked. I realized he was the boy I had knocked over, but I didn’t acknowledge this. I had already apologized.
          “It’s an inconvenience,” I said.
          “I think it’s beautiful,” he said.
          “Okay. What can I get you?”
          “What’s your name?”
          “Jane. Did you decide what you want to eat?”
          “Can I ask for your number?”
          “What do you need my number for?”
          The others laughed, and his face reddened. He elbowed one of his friends in the stomach, but didn’t answer the question.
          “What’s funny?” I asked.
          “That was a rough rejection,” a very short boy among them said.
          “Rejection from what?”
          Charlie came up behind me. “Jane, go find another table. I will take this one over for you.”
          I didn’t ask questions. I just went to a couple sitting by the window. They both asked for water and a few minutes to decide what to eat. I smiled at them and went back to fetch the salads for the girls. Lenny had them sitting in a tray for me by the door. I carefully picked it up and set
it over my shoulder. Even though I had been working here for years, I was just as clumsy as I was on my first day. I had dumped bowls of soup into patrons’ laps, ruined white shirts with various sauces, and caused many other less-than-graceful incidents. I was an awful waitress.
          I walked back out and over to the girls. I lowered the tray and put a salad in front of each of them. They didn’t look happy, and not one of them said thank you. I started walking away, but the redhead stopped me.
          “Why did you turn Adam down?” she asked.
          “Who is Adam?”
          “The boy who asked for your number over there.”
          I furrowed my eyebrows. “Turned him down for what?”
          “Are you really going to play stupid?”
          Once again, Charlie turned up next to me. She took the tray from me and pointed to the couple in the corner. I didn’t ask questions. I just walked away. I served a few more tables, and then noticed that the boys from earlier were done and waving for the check. I went back into the kitchen to find Charlie, but she wasn’t there. I looked at Lenny, and he pointed to the back door. She often took a break for a cigarette when the day’s work was getting to her.
          I went out into the alley and found her sitting on a pile of bricks. She took a drag from the cigarette in her hand and blew smoke out somewhat aggressively. She had let her hair out of the bun and draped it over her left shoulder. She flicked the ash and took another drag, and then finally noticed me.
          “Everything all right?” she asked.
          “Those boys are ready for the check. Can I give it to them?”
          “I’ll be in to give it to them in a minute. They can wait.”
          “Why don’t you want me to do it?”
          “I just don’t want you talking to them, anymore.”
          “I can just give it to them and walk away, so you can take your time.”
          She paused for a few seconds, and then pulled out her order book and tore their page out. She handed it to me. “Do not talk to them.”
          I nodded and went back to their table. I put it down without a word and then walked away immediately. I stood behind the register to tend to the line of people who had gotten up to pay. The group of girls were done and waiting to leave. The redhead handed me money for the food they didn’t even eat, and I gave her the change. She hadn’t left a dime for a tip, but I didn’t comment. I just let her go.
          The boys came up to me to pay, and the one who had spoken to me earlier said, “I didn’t mean to bother you.”
          I took his money without looking up, and I didn’t say anything. Charlie had told me not to speak to them, and that was that. The group left the restaurant, but the boy didn’t follow them. He kept his eyes on me. His friends called out to him, but he ignored them.
          “You don’t talk?” he asked.
          I offered him his change without answering, but he wouldn’t take it.
          “I said I’m sorry,” he said.
          “No, you didn’t,” I said.
          “I’m sorry.”
          I didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but I didn’t care. I nodded and offered him the change again. He took it and said, “You did insult me, this morning. Can we call it even?”
          I looked up. “You heard me?”
          “Call me a liar? Yes, I did. Have a good day, Jane.”
          He waved and walked away. I went to clean up their table and found that they had left me a much bigger tip than necessary on the table. I picked up the money and dishes, and then went back into the kitchen. I put the plates in the sink and then sat back in front of Michael. He was done with his drawing.
          “Do you think I’ll be as good as you, one day?” he asked.
“I think that one day you’ll be better.”
          He grinned and hugged me over the counter, and then skipped through the door. I watched him dance his way down the street for a minute, and then went back to doing my job. I didn’t make conversation with anyone else until we closed down. I put the last chair up on a clean table, and Lenny handed me an envelope full of money. He didn’t usually pay anyone until Thursday, but he was going out of town. I was the only one
he paid under the table, anyway. I told him it was illegal, but he said that sometimes we needed to make exceptions and bend the law. I wished him a safe trip, hugged him, and then left.
          I stopped at the corner and waited for the bus. My feet were in pain, but I was too disgusted by the benches to sit down. I leaned against the stop sign and shut my eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing in my skull. It had been an exceptionally long day, but unfortunately for me, buses always came late when the sun went down. I wanted to melt into a puddle on the sidewalk.
          The bus finally came ten minutes late, which was not even close to its record. It pulled to a loud stop in front of me, and the doors squealed loudly as they opened. I climbed on and found
myself on an empty bus. It would only be me and the driver, for the moment. I took the first seat on the right. I found bus chairs just as gross as the benches outside, but I couldn’t stand anymore.
I closed my eyes and sat on the very edge of a seat.
          It was difficult to keep myself from dozing off, but I held it together. Fifteen minutes later, I got off the bus and found myself in front of my gym. Some days, I found myself inclined to use it for its intended purpose, but I never did. The desire to work out wasn’t the reason I had
a membership. I didn’t need their pool, or their equipment, or the sports courts. I just needed their showers. Every night before I went home, I stopped to clean off the day’s vices and virtues.
It was the only time in my day when I could take my clothes off without rushing.
          I walked into the building and flashed my card at the front desk attendant. I didn’t stop to say hello. I marched right into the women’s locker room and pulled my change of clothes from my bag. I hopped into a shower without sparing a glance at anyone else. They had come to know me as the lonely girl at the gym. I heard a few whispers around the locker room that I was
homeless, but I never corrected them.
          I turned on the water and waited until it was so hot that steam was emitting from it before stepping in. My body immediately relaxed, and I closed my eyes. I never wanted to get out. This
was always the best part of my day. There was no stress, here. It was the only place in the world where I felt safe.
          About thirty minutes later, I reluctantly turned off the water and dried myself off. I brushed my hair and dressed, and then left the building. I didn’t stop to acknowledge anyone on my way out, either. It was too close to my mother’s house to chance anyone connecting the dots on the map of my life.
          I cleared four blocks, and then stopped at the biggest house in the neighborhood. I unlocked the door and stepped in. Instead of human contact, I was greeted by the smell of smoke
and alcohol. It used to make my stomach turn when I was little, but my nose was now accustomed to it. I barely noticed, anymore. I walked through the living room and made it to the stairs without running into anyone, but I hadn’t made it more than three steps up before she saw
me.
          “Jane!” my mother yelled.
          I cringed and turned to her. She was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, cigarette in one hand and a glass with some brown liquid in the other. She looked angry, but it wasn’t because of me. She was never angry because of something I had done. I never crossed her.
          “Do you have it?” she asked.
          I opened my bag and removed the envelope Lenny had given me. I gave it to her, and she smiled. These moments were the only times in which her smiles appeared genuine. I was paying for her affection, however small. She saluted me and went back into the kitchen. I took a deep breath and went up to my room, making sure to lock the door behind me, this time. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit my pillow.
          Hours later, I was woken up by a loud banging sound. I sat up quickly and looked at my door. It shook under the pressure of his fist, and the dead bolt was close to giving out. I grabbed my bag and a jacket, and then climbed out of the window. I found the first step of the ladder I had attached to the wall outside. I made it to the ground just as I heard my door burst open and crash to the floor.
          “Jane!” he yelled.
          He walked closer to the window, and I hid behind a bush. He kept shouting my name and throwing things around. I groaned. I would have to replace half of my things yet again. I saw him look out onto the street, but it was too dark for him to see me. He threw my pillow outside, and it landed in a pile of dirt. He nodded and crossed his arms, clearly satisfied with himself.
          “Congratulations, Hulk,” I mumbled.
          I grabbed my bag and took off down the street. I walked for about twenty minutes, until I finally ended up at a pond that people rarely visited. I sat down and watched the small fish swim
around in the water. None of them were interested in interacting with anything else. They just moved haphazardly through the pond with no particular route in mind. They were so lucky.
          I laid back on the grass and looked up at the stars that glistened in the night sky. I marveled at how something so dead could be so beautiful. Everything about humans became disgusting when the light left their eyes. I let my head fall back and relaxed. I had gotten used to this long ago. Spending nights here no longer bothered me. I closed my eyes, and a few minutes later, I was asleep again.