Lindsay

‘Why do they always get so pissed back there?’ Lindsay thought as she took a few plates from the window.  True it was hot and yes she could see it was stressful but how did freaking out and swearing help anything?  There was another cook on second shift, Joel who did it a lot and Jim in the morning? It never made sense to her.  She took the plates to the table at the end and gave them to the girls there.  It had been slow for a little more than an hour then they had come in. Still it wasn’t that much, an eight-top and a couple of four-tops, Sam could cook it she knew, but not without the cursing. She could hear him back there now, the day had been fucked up out front for her as well.  The girl she was supposed to work with had called out, well not exactly called out, she simply hadn’t shown up.  It was supposed to be her first day. Can’t we get anyone to come in here who’s not drunk, hungover, stoned, or incompetent? Lindsay thought as she walked over to the milkshake machine. 

Gary had been in and out all day, he had asked her if she needed help up she had said she was fine.  Most of the time when he tried to ‘help,’ he mainly got in the way.  Both of the four-tops had gotten milkshakes and she looked at the machine with loathing.  She hated making them, they took a long time and made a mess and you had to clean it up. Most people didn’t Lindsay knew, but she liked to do it for John, the overnight waiter because he frequently worked alone.

Lindsay scooped a few scoops into a cup looking occasionally over at the window, it looked like he was getting ready to put the orders up soon, it was hard to tell. ‘Motherfucker,’ Lindsay could hear from the kitchen.  The jukebox was on fairly loud and the teenagers in the place were having loud conversations, so most likely they couldn’t hear. She looked over at the clock above the register, quarter to 11, getting close.  Lynn’s coming in tonight, she thought. She had heard stories a few times when the midnight person hadn’t come in at all and the person had to stay. Fuck that, she thought, I’d made Gary stay if anything.  She saw Gary come in from the front door, ‘How we doing?’ He asked her as he sat down at the counter.  ‘Doing good.’ She said, pouring the milkshakes.  She looked over at the window, and saw that the first four top go up. Thank you, she thought walking over.

I could just walk out, Sam thought as he put the order up in the window.  Just walk out, right now, with all these customers. He had thought about it many times during hectic nights like this, he had heard stories about cooks who had worked there doing that. Walking out and driving over to the Hot-l for a beer.  Still that was far too spontaneous for him. Anyway, I only have an hour or so in here. Also there was monetary considerations, not wanting to get fired right yet. Still on nights like this it was sure was tempting. Sam picked up a basket of fries and dumped them into a hat. Who’s coming in tonight? Sam thought at he walked back to pour the fries on a couple of plates. The other overnight cook John Jr, John the waiter’s father, had worked his last day last Sunday, which left Ed.

That could get ugly, Sam thought.  A long time ago Ed might have been a somewhat competent line cook, but those days were long past.  Ed could only cook one slip at a time, and even then he had to put them on the cutting board. The same cutting board for cutting sandwich’s and putting up plates. Sam had heard stories about order’s taking 45 minutes to an hour. How one time Ed had overcooked a steak and it had been sent back. Ed had then refused to cook it again. When John Jr tried to put another one on he had given him shit and John had backed off.  Gary of course had said next to nothing about the situation to Sam, he only said to ‘Not say anything to Ed.’ About John Jr not coming in. Not that Sam had any intention of staying past midnight.  It simply wasn’t worth it, he knew. It would give you no recognition for what you did, much less any thanks.  Sam grabbed a plate and picked up an Omelette from the grill and put it on the cutting board.  He picked up the second one then got the homefries. I think this is it, Sam thought and put the rest of the order up.

Lindsay walked up to the window and took it, ‘Thank you.’ She said. ‘I love you.’ He wanted to say but didn’t.  It just wouldn’t work. He walked out the kitchen door. All the table had their food. Level completed, he thought with a grin.  ‘I’m going to do some shed inventory.’ Sam said to Lindsay as she walked over. ‘Ok,’ she replied.  He had two reason for going outside, one was for transferring the beer he had in the walk in to his car, and the other to smoke the joint he had rolled for just this time.  He walked into the cooler and picked up the bag. Even though he hated the Diner it sometimes dawned on him that he couldn’t get away with this kind of shit anywhere else.  The air had cooled as he walked out to his van, Sam placed the beer in the front seat and reached into the center console and grabbed the joint, he had put it in a bag. He walked over to the shed and turned on the light, the cigarette butt bowl was full, and there was a copy of the day’s newspaper on one of the chairs.

Sam took the joint out of the bag and lit it, it tasted sweet. He hadn’t smoked before going in so the first hit was nice. Gary was out front the last time he saw him, although he wouldn’t  do anything about it if he found him, maybe tell him to be more discreet although Gary wouldn’t use that word. It’s a compromise working at the diner, Sam thought as he puffed the jay. Sure you can get beer during your shift and get high but in exchange you get co-workers that don’t show up and Gary.  Better be getting your ass in gear Eddy boy, Sam thought watching the smoke waft.

Overnight

Ed

Ed opened his eyes slowly in the darkness.  How long have I been out? He thought wearily. It could be two in the morning for all he knew. He had done it before, had a few beers at 8 and then passed out and woke up at two or three. His phone filled with frantic messages from work. Ed propped himself up on the side of the bed and looked over at his alarm clock, 11:15, No, Ed thought, Fuck, how? He had gotten out at eight that morning, but he had stayed up for a few hours.  He had decided to grab a case of beer at the store to watch the hokey game later and he had passed out at three watching it. Of course one beer had turned into four or five, maybe six,  and now he was here. He got up and walked over to the living room.  There was several bottles on the coffeetable and the TV was still on.

It was still strange sometimes being in the house alone. He had grown up in that house, with his brothers and sisters.  His parent had died and given him the house and sometimes he felt like he could still feel their presence.  He walked over to the coffeetable and checked to see if any of the bottles had anything in them. One of them did, Ed finished it. Fuck it, he thought.  Probably not going to be good in there tonight, Ed thought.  It’s Friday right? He often lost track of the day, especially working the overnight schedule.  There was nothing he could do to make it normal, to make a be a usual routine. He felt like one of the underground mole people, the undead.  Ed walked back into his room, and put on his chef coat. I reminded him of better days, when I was in my prime, I’d never thought I’d be doing this. Most of his co-workers thought of the overnight as a joke, a shift where no one did anything.  Ed had found quite the opposite to be true. Sure there were less customers, but there was also more things to do, change the oil, switch over the steamtable.

Ed opened his top dresser door and picked up his pipe and loaded it up with a small nugg.  He walked out onto his porch, he usually smoked outside. He wasn’t sure why he did it, sometime it felt that somehow it would be wrong. That his parent wouldn’t approve, even though they were long gone.  He struck a match and took a puff.  It was nice night out clear, with a sliver of a moon.  So there’s no getting out of this one, Ed thought.  I think I have eight beers left. Good, going to need them later.