Hello Steem! Here's a story I wrote quite some time ago for a prompt-based activity I was doing with my ex-girlfriend, who was a photographer. The dynamic was, she took photos and I wrote stories. This prompt was precisely "A scene in a restaurant". Although she never took the photo for this one (we broke up only three prompts in, haha!) I was quite happy with my story.
The characters here are Latino, so there's some bits in Spanish for which I'll leave a translation right after the paragraph.
Also, this scene is a reinterpretation of something... Can you guess what it is?
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Thursday night was not the most crowded night around the diner. To be honest with you, that diner was not really a crowded place. On weekends we made enough money to make ends meet thanks to the drunk population of the inner city. Yes they were somewhat glue-handed for money and sometimes Frank, the “manager” and cook… And occasionally clerk; had to block the door with his massive self to stop some wasted guy’s sorry attempts to scape without paying; but they made up our main source of money. Also, a former employee told me a secret: go for the eldest drunks. They usually had a lot of cash and a lot of regret – “they will see, kid, they will see their wall-street-bitch of daughter in you and start, kid, start sobbing because they’ll probably hold some kind of guilt inside. Then, kid, then you must hit ‘em hard. Talk to them about loneliness and time and see, kid, see the green start pouring under their salty tears”. It was a shitty maneuver, but hey, a girl's gotta make a living, and this is a shitty world. There are all kinds of assholes trying to get into your pants, wannabe rock stars who keep repeating “kid” when talking just because they have taken LSD two or three times and think they’ve achieved a higher state of consciousness in which they are for definition fathers of us all. Fucking Todd.
Anyways, that was on weekends. From Monday to Friday morning flies and cockroaches could starve on our tables, so I was always late. We didn't have any costumers until my shift was 30 or 45 minutes in, so it was no big deal and Frank did not mind. I could finish my classes and take the long road to the diner… Or what I did most days, skip them to go have sex or slack off at home, and then rush to the place. Whatever the case I'd end up chit-chatting with Frank or reading all night, with the occasional break to serve some weirdo – night shift was all weirdoes or prostitutes. At least even a bad book is a good book and Frank was excellent conversation. He spent all of his money on keeping the diner on its feet, and high speed internet so he could browse Wikipedia on his free time. And I mean ALL of his free time.
But that night was different. The streets were quieter than usual and the diner was even quieter. I had noticed it from about four blocks way, and when I entered it hit me hard in the face as Frank’s look hit me too. He was behind the counter, tense and sweaty, his body clearly signaling a young woman who sat by the window looking at the street. I looked and stared for a moment. She had a strong Latin profile that could fit perfectly among the people of imperial Rome or in the streets of modern Colombia. Hot damn she was gorgeous! Her skin kind of felt soft just by looking at it and her eyelids seemed to hold something really heavy. Her hair had smooth, long black curls that reminded one of either a high witch or a medieval princess. She seemed tired and her clothing was really worn out. However, she looked through that glass as if it was only air. Her penetrating and determined eyes examined the street and the look on them made me feel expectant, intrigued.
I couldn’t help myself and went up to her looking for an excuse to start a conversation, when I suddenly remembered that I worked in the very diner we were standing in. I saw a glass full of half-melted ice sitting in front of her, and was to refill it when Frank stretched over the counter and pulled me by the arm. “Hey, be careful”, he said holding a very intense look. I nodded, captured by the gravity of his eyes (he was never this serious) and then noticed he was holding a glass full of ice chips. I took the glass as Frank whispered something like “That woman makes me feel… Humbled, yet loved. And I don’t get those feelings very often”. I thought his words were kind of funny, but the way he said them was dead serious. More than that, it was transcendental, so I did not laugh. “What about the chips?” I asked and Frank looked around as if he was being spied on and his whispering volume became lower “She is very pregnant”, he confessed. I thought pregnant women consumed ice chips when on the hospital bed.
Frank looked at me like that for around two more seconds and finally let me go. I went up to her table and placed the new glass while taking the old one. “Can I get you something else, honey?” I said, and she might not know it but I was flirting. But after one second, that stopped being important. The moment she rose her eyes to me, her pleading, shining, deep black eyes, I was completely naked and unarmed. Everything disappeared but this moment and Frank’s words: “Humble, yet loved”. I felt so protected and whole, I felt as if I could kneel down right there and plead my eternal allegiance to that woman. And I could've stayed there all day, just holding that deep connection, lost into her wells of time, but those wells actually were pointed at a stranger who rushed through the door and was trying to get me out of the way rudely. The woman looked at me and said “please”, or at least I think she did because I was instantly compelled to get out of their space.
I got back to the counter with Frank and the stranger sat down across the woman on the corner, a smile now on their faces. He delivered a deep kiss that she received as if it was a gift that she had been waiting for a really long time, and we were jealous now, though mesmerized by their chemistry, so we kept staring at them. They really did not mind all the staring because they were staring profoundly at each other. Their eyes seemed as if they were sockets and cables, endpoints of information, of electric current, and also the way to transmit it. Solely by looking at each other they appeared to exchange more information than I ever could with a thousand words – we were utterly captivated by the poetry in the conversation of their eyes. Suddenly this spell was broken by yet another one: the spell of their voices. The transition was almost unnoticeable because for us they were already talking. But my heart skipped a beat (and I know Frank’s did too, I heard it) when the man opened his mouth and started singing more than talking. His was a melody of profound love and care, and deepest responsibility and integrity. That was a real human being! A person who had control but recognized chaos as something real and necessary, a satisfied person that had seem both faces of this world: the one that cries and the one that laughs. I could conclude all this only by the tone of his voice, the inflexion, the way he inspired the air before he started.
He spoke a soft and gentle Spanish (thanks abuela [granny] for teaching me). Their conversation was grave and subtle, but we heard everything from where we were standing. It went something like this:
“Va a pasar esta noche, María. De lo que Dio… De lo que Jester habló, está empezando mientras estamos aquí sentados” [It's gonna happen tonight, Maria. That of which Go... Jester was talking about, is starting while we are sitting here] — her mouth opened in a way that showed she was worried but also said that this was not a surprise to her. He went on “Mientras hablamos, la casa de Adam está siendo registrada… Lo saben todo, María, ¡Todo! Pero Jester no está preocupado. Sabía que esto iba a suceder y que era inevitable. Pero yo reconocí que estaba mintiendo, vi en sus ojos que podía detenerlo todo cuando quisiera… Le rogué que hiciese algo, pero me miró con aquella larga mirada suya, la infinita piedad e infinita comprensión que desarma. Supe entonces que él ya había considerado todas las opciones y que su plan era la mejor alternativa. ¡Es tan injusto! Nuestra iniciativa es la salvación de este mundo… Nos exterminan cuando más nos necesitan, ¡los pobres ignorantes!” [While we speak, Adam's house is being searched... They know it all Maria, everything! But Jester is not worried. He knew this was gonna happen and that it was unavoidable. But I knew he was lying, I saw in her eyes that he could stop it whenever he wanted to... I begged her to do something, but he looked at me with that long stare of his, that infinite, disarming piety and understanding. I knew then that he had already considered all the options and decided that his plan was our best choice. It's so unfair! Our initiative is the salvation of this world... They kill us when they need us more, the poor ignorants!] —
He seemed furious and frustrated, as if he was going to start crying out of sheer frustration. But then the girl, María, spoke and her voice was as if a mountain gale had come down to our ludicrous small diner and refreshed all of our souls, renewing every corner of the restaurant, of the city even. “No desesperes Gabriel” [Don't lose hope, Gabriel] — her voice transformed us all into babies and sang us a lullaby. Gabriel’s frown was undone and his back relaxed as if a giant boulder was taken away from it. She paused for a second that became eternal as we sank into the softness of her melody and then continued “Dios es grande. Recuerda que fue él quien nos sacó de la oscuridad y el sufrimiento, fue ella quien nos dio un camino y un propósito… Fue él quien nos trajo a la vida. Si ella está dejando todo esto suceder, alguna razón lógica ha de tener” [God is great. Remember he was the one who saved us from darkness and suffering, she was the one that gave us a way and a purpose... He the one that brought us to life. If she's letting all this happen, he has to have some logical reason] She said Dios [God] as if it was a friend’s name rather than that silly word, “god”, a word long forgotten and buried beneath the grand legacy of science and progress. As she spoke, Gabriel closed his eyes and filled his lungs with air, seemingly relieved of all pain and worries. So few words yet so many effects, so much meaning.
He sighed with resignation, his eyes still closed, and turned his face to the ceiling. It was filled with the silent grieving of those who had accepted a terrible fate. He let out a quiet “I know” without changing his head’s position. Maybe he was letting it all sink in. Then he looked at her again and smiled widely once more. “Tendrás que recordar de ahora en más que a él no le gusta ser llamado así. Además, sabes que es peligroso para ti. Jester. Recuérdalo: Jester” [You'll have to remember from now on that he doesn't like to be called that. Also, you know it is dangerous for you. Jester. Remeber it: Jester] — she nodded as if she was saying “I’ll remember it next time, but I don’t like it”. Then Gabriel took her hands in his and went on “Serás una proscrita… Y nuestro hijo también” [You'll be an outlaw, and so will our son] He looked at her belly with infinite compassion. That look was a goodbye, a goodluck and an Iloveyou. They both shed some silent tears and we could not help but shedding some too. They cried for the fate of their baby and we cried also for the fate of a world in which an unborn baby can be un proscrito, an outlaw. That instant is kept in my mind as one of the most meaningful moments of my life, and I know Frank also feels that way too.
But the ringing of a cellphone interrupted the scene. Oh, how I cursed that cellphone! I knew somehow that it was all over. Gabriel knew it too and he rushed his final words. I also knew somehow that these were his final words. “No hables nunca más de nosotros… Ni siquiera a él” [Do not speak of us ever again... Not ever to him] — he was refering to his baby. “Debemos ser leyendas. Debemos ser nada más que sombras del tiempo… Sólo así podremos vivir más allá de nuestros cuerpos presentes en las mentes y las almas de los hombres justos. Eso es lo que dijo Jester… Eso es lo que dijo Dios. También había otro mensaje para nosotros: nuestro hijo será esa gran cosa que esperábamos. Morimos hoy para que él pueda hacernos eternos” [We must be legends. We must be nothing more than shadows of time... Only then we will be able to outlive our present bodies, in the souls and minds of righteous men. That's what Jester said. That's what God said. There was also another message for us: Our son will be that great thing we were waiting for. We die today so he could make us eternal] — he looked at her eyes again as if he wanted to hold this instant forever and stay right there on our filthy diner. Then he leaned over the table and kissed her again for almost a minute. Their loving kisses mixed with the salty tears and for this last kiss we looked away, heavy and concerned. Finally he stood up and went to the door without looking back. He opened it and stood right there holding it. But there was no word big enough to fill that enormous silence, and he left after a few seconds.
María sat there for another while. She was in some sort of stasis and I could see her soul hardening to bear all the iniquities that lied ahead of her. We stared at her hopelessly and hated ourselves because we knew there was no single thing we could do for her and her baby. Ten minutes later she stood up, decision and fire in her eyes, and turned to me. She asked “How much do I owe you?” and I couldn’t help but smile, moved by her candidness, and my soul pushed me to hug her. “What you have paid already and what you will pay is enough to keep us in debt for a thousand years” I said, letting go of her. She smiled back at me and kissed me softly on the lips. I was petrified and could not get a word out as she walked (more than that, floated) towards the door. She repeated what his lover had done and stood there as if she was getting ready to fulfill a high, important destiny; and then left.
To this day I haven’t seen her again, but hers was the only kiss I will never forget.
