Maybe It Was Memphis

He watches her from across the street. She is sitting by the window in Dovie’s Dinner, her face partially hidden by a book, her lunch going cold on the table. He wonders briefly what is so interesting in that book that she hardly looks up from it. He is also glad that it keeps her occupied so that he can watch her without her being aware of him. He commits to memory her delicate profile; the pert up turned nose, full lips, and elegant curve of her chin. A spark of anger flares briefly in his chest, he knows full well that he is acting like a school boy; at his age he should be well over this sort of thing.

He thinks about taking his break, crossing the street and sitting down at a table near her. Or maybe if he was braver sitting down in the chair across from her. What then? Would she notice him? And if she did what would he say? “Hi, I couldn’t help but notice how lovely you are, and that you are here alone, can I join you? Do you mind if I just sit here and stare at you?” As if she would spare the time of day for him. But no, he tells him self, she isn’t like that. She has never said a mean word to him. She is always pleasant to him, maybe if he walked over there she would look up from her book, and smile that sweet smile of hers and ask him to join her…No he doubt that would happen, she would smile and then return to her book. Though there isn’t much that he wouldn’t do for her smile.

Disgusted he looks away from her and down the road, hardly a car in sight. No reason why he couldn’t step into Dovie’s for a bite. It had been slow all day. And this is the usual time for him to take his lunch break. Everyone in towns knows when he takes his break and will usually not pester him to fill up their tank until after. In fact Karen, who runs the dinner across the street, is probably wondering what is keeping him. Wouldn’t she be amused to know that the presence of that red hair girl was keeping him away.

I really should get on over there, he tells himself, or people will wonder if something is wrong. The thought that he isn’t doing anything out of the ordinary bolsters his courage. Locking up the little booth he works out of, he heads out across the street.

*************************

The bell over the dinner’s door jangles, causing Amber to look up from her novel. Quickly her eyes dart back to the page when she sees that it is him that has come in. What now, she thinks to herself. Should she smile and say hi? Would that be too obvious? Maybe she shouldn’t do anything, just keep her head down and pretend that she hadn’t seen him come in. She is saved from making a decision right away by the dark-haired woman behind the counter calling out to him.

“You’re running late today,” she says, “all them nonexistent tourist keeping you busy?”

“Nope, Karen, just lost track of time,” he replies inwardly cringing that his tardiness was so apparent. But he is relieved when he sees out of the corner of his eye that Amber has not looked up from her book. Just what is so fascinating in that book, he wonders silently, you could drop a bomb on her and she wouldn’t even notice.

“Well I guess people at your age do start gong senile,” Karen remarks in a friendly teasing voice.

Craig laughs ruefully, but whishes that she hadn’t made him sound quite so old. He is spared from having to reply by another costumer at the lunch counter piping up, “Just what does the city thinks it’s trying to do with all this ‘attracting tourist dollars’ bull” he grumbles, “last thing we need is a bunch of tourist running around.”

“Oh Tommy, what do you know about anything?” Karen snaps back at him. But it is too late, the rest of the men around the dinner now have to share their opinion on the newest town scandal. But her anger is mostly feigned. The lunch time crowed always gathered here for their daily informal debate. Like a bunch of old women gossiping around the back fence she thinks amused.

She turns back to Craig, “The usual?” she ask.

He nods and is about to take his usual seat when he decides to take a table away from the noisy bunch at the lunch counter. He tells himself that it is because he doesn’t feel like joining in their rambunctious dispute, never mind that the table is closer to her.

Amber’s heart feels like it is about to jump out of her chest. He is so close, just a few yards away. She risk a peak at him, enjoying his strong masculine profile, and wishing he was just a bit closer so she could make out the deep blue of his eyes. I don’t think he is that old, she thinks to herself as she quietly watches him toy with the menu. Of course he would probably think I am way too young for him. She turns her attention back to the book, a slight frown creasing her brow and mentally scolding herself about her attraction to him. It’s too early for me to be scouting out dates, and besides I’m sure he isn’t even interested in someone like me, he would think I was just some dumb kid. She turns the page in her book without even reading it as her mental barge continues; and the last thing I want to do is make a fool out of myself over some man. I’ve already made a big enough fool out of myself as it is…

But she could not help the longing she felt for him when ever she saw him. What would it feel like to have those work roughened hands on me? And those arms, with those lean muscles and ropy veins, my fingers all but itch to touch him. What is wrong with me? I must be suffering a Walt Whitman complex to be lusting after a man twice my age. She tries to pull her wayward thoughts back to the book when she notices Karen bringing him lunch. She is thankful that the presences of the other woman will keep her from staring at him and vainly tries to swallow the irrational spark of jealousy that this other woman can be so free with him.

Karen sets the plate of food down in front of him, “You’re going to clog up your arteries eating this junk.”

“Well a man can’t live on salads,” he replies, “and besides I wouldn’t eat it if you weren’t such a fine cook.”

She laughs a small silvery laugh; “Flattery will get you no where, mister,” she says and settles into the chair opposite from him. Quietly she listens to debate going on up front. “I don’t blame you for sitting back here, you here them up there? Next thing you know they will be fighting the war all over again.”

Snippets of, “We don’t need their kind out here,” and “tree hugging hippies” floated back to them.

Craig shrugged mildly, “Some people just don’t take kindly to strangers,” he said.

Before Karen could reply a small thud caught their attention. Amber was picking her book up from where she had dropped it. Karen’s sharp eyes missed nothing, “Why honey you’ve hardly touched your lunch, is something wrong?”

If Amber had wished to see Craig’s blue eyes, she now had her wish granted for they were turned to her with a slightly concerned look on his face. Embarrassed she stammered, “Oh everything is fine, I’m just, uhm, not as hungry as I thought I was.”

An angry voice upfront, “…need to git back to where they come from…” cut Amber off from saying anything else.

Giving her a friendly wink Karen said, “Oh don’t let those old windbags upset you none. They’re just blowing smoke.”

Amber gave her a weak smile, not knowing what else to say. Better to let her think that it was it was the other patrons chasing her out than hearing Craig remarking about not taking kindly to strangers. Was that how he felt? She started to plucked the check up from the table when Karen said, “Oh don’t worry about that, hun, consider it on the house on account of my regulars acting like jerks”

Amber thanked her softly, glad to be able to make a fast exit and hoping that her cheeks were not bright red. When the door closed behind her Karen called out “You boys up there better hush, you’re starting to run off some of my other costumers.”

Several heads turned to watch Amber’s retreating figure and one young man gave s low whistle and mention, “Well I wouldn’t mind getting more tourist if they all looked like that.”

A chorus of guffaws followed with Karen admonishing, “Brain that girl is too smart to take up with the likes of you.” Karen also noticed the scowl that crossed Craig’s face at the boy’s impertinent remark. Turning back to Craig she raised one eyebrow and queried, “Not you too?”
Craig’s face went expressionless, “hmm?”

Karen decided to let it pass, “Nothing,” she said with a wave of her hand, “I have to get back to work now, you enjoy your lunch.” And with that she stood up and made her way back to the kitchen, hoping that Craig wasn’t going to do anything foolish and get his poor old heart broken.