Diner in Hillside

A strange man walked a road just outside the small Midwestern towns of Hillside. Past fields of tall brown grass, past the abandoned houses, and past an abandoned factory. The recession hit Hillside hard, the factory use to employ most of the population, it was shut down in 2003. The town had shrunk by a two thirds within ten years, the only money maker was the truck stop on highway 35.

The strange man walked to the diner at the truck stop. He wore a dark trench coat with a beige button down shirt and bluejeans underneath, and a flat brimmed, flat topped hat. He appeared to be in his thirties or forties, and looked part white and part Native American. On his left shoulder stood a raven.

He entered the diner. Only one waitress was in the diner, there didn’t appear to be anyone else there.The waitress wore a blue waitress uniform, her hair was blond, mostly pulled back, her skin was light, and she had a large black eye.

A thick fog surrounded the diner, very unusual for the aria.

The waitress was cleaning the counter when the Stranger entered, she looked at him, “No animals allowed.” she told him.

He looked at the raven, at the waitress, “She’s not an animal.” he replied.

The waitress sighed, then: “No birds allowed.”

“Think of her like a service animal.”

The raven croaked.

“Sorry.” the strange man apologized to the raven.

“Fine.” the waitress replied in an annoyed voice.

The stranger sat at the counter. She picked up a menu to give him, “No thank you.” the strange man said, “a cup of coffee will do, two creams, five sugars”. The waitress poured him a cup and gave him packets of sugar and cream containers.

After adding cream and sugar “Diners always have the best coffee.” he said. The Stranger took a sip of the coffee, “well, they use to.” he then took another sip. “How did you get the black eye?” the strange man asked.

She touched the bruise and “An accident,” she answered, paused, “I fell on the stairs.”

“Did you?” he replied rhetorically. He took another sip of coffee, put the mug down and pushed it back. He looked at the waitress and asked: “Does your husband beat you often?”

Shocked by the question, “What kind of question is that?” she snapped.

“I don’t intend to be rude but it is my job to ask.” the Stranger replied. “Did he beat you last night?” He paused, “or this morning?”

The memory of her husband punching her flashed in her mind. The waitress pointed at the door, her expression full of anger, and yelled: “Get out!”

“I can’t, not until my job is done.”

“Get out or I’m calling the sheriff!”

“No one will answer.”

She stomped to the phone and dialed the sheriffs number. Placing the phone to her ear she heard nothing, not even a dial tone. She walked to the counter, grabbed her cellphone from her purse under the counter, but the phone had no single.

“What happened? Did Sam push you down those stairs?”

The waitress looked at the man her hands shook with anger and fear, “How do you know my husband’s name?” she demanded.

“Did he push you down the stares?” the Stranger asked again.

“How do you know my husband’s name?” she yelled.

“Laura, what happened?”

“How do you know my name?” She demanded, “Who are you?”

“I am a being with a job, a terrible job, but a job I have to do.” The stranger paused, then: “I need you to remember. What happened?”

The waitress stood there, a flash of memory, a fight, the voice of Sam: “I stayed in a ratty motel for a week and I can’t even come home to a cooked meal?”

“Shut up!” Laura yelled at the strange man. “Get out!”

“I wish I could but I can’t. You need to understand what you are. You must remember what happened.”

Laura remembered a punch and a fall. “Get out!” she screamed at the man and the memory.

“I’m sorry you have to remember such a horrible thing. I understand it is painful and the truth of what you are now is painful. No one really wants to die.”

Tears welled in Laura’s eyes. Memories began to coalesce in her mind. “Shut up!” Laura screamed, “Get out!” she screamed again. She covered her ears to futilely trying keep out Sam’s voice and hers.

“I’m sorry, I got off of work twenty minutes ago after working twelve hours.” Laura apologized.

“You’re saying you work harder than me?” Sam yelled.

“No, don’t-“

“What did you mean then?!” Sam interrupted her, “I worked twelve hours for six days straight!”

“I’m sorry, I ment-“

“What!?” Sam screamed, “What did you mean!?”

Laura wiped a tear from her cheek. “I don’t want to talk about this.” she said to the Stranger.

“I’m sorry Laura but you must remember.” He paused, “Sam punched you then?”

“No, he didn’t! Nothing happened!” She was telling herself more than the stranger. “Nothing happened.” she said again with panic in her voice.

“Laura-“

“Nothing happened!” Laura yelled.

“Okay, lets try this a different way. How did you get to work today?”

“I drove! Why are you doing this to me? Who are you!?”

“Was anyone else here?”

“Of course!” She slammed her fists on the bar.

“Where are they?”

“They’re-” Laura pauses realizing she had been alone there for a long while. “They’re in the back.” Again telling herself more than this strange man. She ran to the kitchen yelling for Frank, the cook, but no one was there. She ran to the office but it was empty, she looked in the walkins and the bathrooms. No one was at the diner except her and the Stranger.

Laura standing in front of an empty bathroom stall turned, the strange man walked up next to her.

“What happened?” he asked again.

“I don’t remember.” she did but didn’t want to.

“Don’t lay there playing dead!” Sam yelled. “Bitch, get up!” He knocked a chair down. “Get up!” His town changed, becoming more concerned. “Laura, Laura get up.”

“How did you get here?” The strange man asked Laura again.

“Leave me alone!” Laura yelled, pushed the man aside, ran out of the bathroom, into the kitchen, into the walkin. She sat in the corner trying to convince herself of what she did not want to know.

“Laura,” the man said from outside the walkin, “I know it’s hard, that it hurts but you can not stay here. I don’t mean to be mean but you need to remember. The life you had, it’s over, it’s time for you to move on.” He paused. “I will be waiting at the counter.”

Laura sat trying to convince herself that it wasn’t true, that she wasn’t dead. But she couldn’t stop remembering what happened to her. She cried, then prayed, begging God that this was just a nightmare or cruel prank. After over an hour she realized she didn’t feel cold. The walkin was set to thirty-five degrees, the thermometer shown thirty-eaight degrees. She felt the food and the shelving, they felt cold, the fan was running, blowing cold air. The walkin was cold, she was not. The realization demolished the failing dam in her mind.

Laura wiped her face as she exited the walkin. She looked at the diner’s back door. Laura walked to the door, opened it and looked out. There was a thick fog outside the diner, looking back at the kitchen the fog seemed to be invading the diner. She wanted to run but knew that there was nothing out there.

The Stranger sat at the counter reading a book. He looked up from the book when Laura came out of the kitchen.

“He hit me.” She told him, “I fell, hit my head on the table. He yelled at me as I lay’d on the floor.” She began to walk around the bar. “He came home after working for a week in Kansas. I didn’t have diner ready.” She tried to hold back her tears but couldn’t.

The fog invading the diner became thicker, or maybe the diner was fading.

“He hit me,”she sobbed, sitting at the counter, “I- I fell, hit my head on the table. I don’t know how long it took him to figure out what he did. I remember an ambulance and nothing after that.”

“I’m sorry.” The strange man said with sympathy.

“I don’t want to go.” she said with a look of fear and sorrow, tears streamed down her cheeks.

The Stranger stood up, put his book in his coat. The diner was all but gone, only the seat she sat on and the counter remained. The raven flew from the mans shoulder, into the fog, opening a path.

“He can’t hurt you anymore.” He reached out to Laura, Laura took his hand, she stood, the seat and counter vanished. Laura could see a long bridge over a river of fog behind the Stranger.

“What’s on the other side?” Laura asked.

“A better place.” He answered.