Henry at the Diner
Henry found himself standing outside a rusty little diner in the pouring rain, hammering his fingertips on the glass of his watch. There was a thick smell of fried food that even this rain couldn't beat out of the air, and Henry couldn't resist going back inside.
She'll find me in here, he told himself, sliding into a booth by the front window. She wouldn't expect me to hang around outside in this rain.
His jacket dripped a little water on the red vinyl seats every time he drew breath; there was a puddle forming around his shoes. He looked at his watch again, and the tiny beads of sweat inside the foggy glass told him that it was broken.
Now the drowsy sleep almost came over him again, and he wondered for just a moment where he was. He shook his head. A cup of coffee to warm him up. And then he'd go outside again. If he could get a waitress.
There was a shape outside, a woman in a long coat. Henry remembered that she had a long coat, tied tight with a belt and draped over her crossed legs. He remembered that she told him about the cafe outside of town, and there was only one cafe outside of town, and this was it. And when she stood up, he remembered how the coat looked around the shoulders. No, this woman was coming closer now, and it wasn't her at all. She came into the restaurant and sat down at a booth alone. It wasn't her at all.
Just a cup of coffee, Henry thought to himself. The thought echoed in his head, like a little leaf caught in an eddy. There was another leaf for this diner. There was a leaf for the train. There was a leaf for the woman in the long coat, and they swirled around and came around again and he never let go of them. Now this little coffee leaf was there with them all, and there were four of them. Henry counted the leaves in his eddy.
The waitress had dusty green eyes and she wore thick glasses that made her look old. Henry told her, when she came to the table, that he wanted some coffee, and when she handed him the menu he handed it back. No, thanks, he said, just coffee for me. I'm waiting for someone. A pretty woman in a long coat.
If the waitress heard him she didn't seem to care, about the woman in the long coat. He saw her going over behind the counter and talking to another customer.
Hey, you alright? was the voice he heard, and it was hers again. The waitress had come back with his coffee, and he was dozing off. Now he took a sip of it, and the hot steam danced around in his face and fogged up his glasses.
The woman who had come in was getting up again now, and she walked to the front of the diner, and she looked out through the two glass doors into the rain. She looked around the diner. She looked past Henry. She turned away and pushed the door and she was gone outside.
Then Henry thought that that might have been her, looking for him and leaving, because she didn't recognize him. He got up and his wet overcoat splashed on the red vinyl seat again and his sleeve dripped oily water into the hot coffee. He was through the doors quickly, and following her shadow into the misty rain.
Under the gaze of a dim streetlight by the curb he caught up to her, and tapped her shoulder. Excuse me, ma'am, and she turned around, and he saw her face closely, and he said, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I thought you were the lady. And he left her there, and the waitress was standing in the door looking at him. Don't make me come after you, mister, out in that rainstorm, but I will. Henry walked back and apologized and paid for his coffee. His eyes were droopy as he turned back around and surveyed the street. He sat on the brick wall and watched the rain fall, and he looked at the bricks and the purple cabbages near the restaurant door, and he thought about going back inside.
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Notes: I wrote this story for no particular reason in 1992. It was published in the middle of a Devil Bunny comic in 1995. So I figured it could also live here.
Condiments on Beale Street, 1991