Set up

SUNDAY'S GIFT

 

It's only 8 a.m. and the day looms dullsville. My usual small breakfast boors me, is not inviting at all. My few accumulated delicate undies lie waiting in the bottom of the washing machine. They whisper my name. I answer, turn the dial to 'light', add the Tide, turn on the water and almost silently the normal ten minute run reaches 'done.' Now what? T.V. news is repeating last night's political news, the stock market report and the weather. A waste of my empty time as the sun shines brightly into the kitchen where I can already feel it will be H O T again today. Giving a lick and a promise to my etched glass top dining room table, I make a few sweeps and move on to the bedroom furniture. Phooey. I quit and just ponder what to do today, where should I go? What should I wear?

 

My pondering takes but a second. Less than a mile away is The       
N-Eatery where I am recognized but noone knows my name. A convenient parking space at ten isn't easy, so I circle a few times and hit one that is a mere two doors from my destination. A large van, its white doors opened wide on my side, make me cuss and use great care squeezing in. None of the men covering the former busy restaurant's windows with storm shutters gives a damn that they are parked illegally. As I walk past the installed shutters, I see a large sign written possibly by a first grader, 'Due to the economic situation, we are closing the Hot Spot permanently.' No loss to me, I ate there once and saw no reason to return.

 

The last few times I lunched at The N-eatery the place was ½ full or ½ empty, take your choice. I wasn't sure today if they would still be around. As I opened the door I was shocked to see a wait line formed from the delly counter to the tables. Two t.v.s were on loud which just added to the cacophony of muddled conversations. When I was led to a table for two, all the way in the rear, opposite the ladies' room, I turned it down because I spied two tables for two singles next to each other and asked to be seated at one . I was. The person diagonally across from me was totally involved with a large breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, boiled potatoes, tomatoes, several biscuits and a stack of butter squares. Strong muscles, large shoulders, a short haircut, very tanned skin, pale pink lipstick, did not tell me if my lunch partner was man or woman. Trying not to stare, I noted a black lanyard around the person's neck that held two wedding bands. Well, it must be a she. The very heavy, silver watch on her wrist, with several different colored hands swayed me again as well as the way she held her knife and fork- masculine for sure. A ribbed, sleeveless shirt, like men wear under their dress shirts, almost cinched my decision. It was deep blue with bold black letters reading DIRT FITNESS. My study of it let me know for sure this was a woman. Muscles and boobs do not look alike. Hers were definitely boobs, nice ones, better than mine. I started the conversation, learned she has a studio where she teaches fitness and yoga. I know I must have annoyed her because she really ate almost nothing, got her check and wished me a nice day.

 

MY gem, my 'Write Book' had been on an empty chair so I could take notes for future stories. With my former meal-mate gone, I had a perfect view of the table for twelve in front of me. What a conglomeration of folks! Asians, whites, blacks, fatsos and raucous children kept my eyes darting every which way. Their backs to me, I studied the two obese ladies both wearing white peddle pushers that were nearing explosion time. Their hair was almost identical, faded blond and messy. Between them were two empty chairs. They talked and ate, ate and talked until an adorable child about 5 years old plopped herself down between them. The child turned to me and I couldn't help but smile and wave. What was the white stuff all around her mouth? She licked it off and one of the fat ladies handed her a small bowl of something that turned out to be cream cheese. The child again covered her lips and dabbed her nose with it, while the ladies kept stuffing their bellies with lord knows what.  Diagonally was a normal looking Asian man who spoke to no one. Next to him was a lovely American young woman, who kept asking, 'What did you say?' If I could have, I would have loaned her my hearing aids.

 

I already have at least six ideas for more writing and start to gather my things. The french toast that was delicious, had become cold while I wrote sloppily and can now barely read my scribbling.The waiter brought me a small box for the toast. My purse is laden down with heaven knows what and is heavy as lead. I need to get tip money and my credit card  out of it. I squeeze thru the small space  and see an old man at the big table who was out of my vision before. He is definitely Asian, has a thinning white pointed beard and one dangling gold earring on his left ear. He seems to be in a world of his own, not joining any conversation. He glances at me and I nod back. He nods then to me, stands and bows. At a loss of what to do next, I just walk away towards the bakery near the front entrance and buy ten bagels of many varieties. Adding that to the other things I am trying to balance, I drop my writing book on the floor, seem to have mislaid my lunch check, have to back, find the same waiter I had to get a new one, add a candy bar to my bundle and head back to my car.

 

The big van with the white open doors is still there. I pull out more slowly than I went in and almost hit a car waiting to take my parking space. As I drive home, planning on writing about all the characters I have to work on, wonder if any of them were watching me, thinking I'm a famous writer or some kind of freak. 

 

I answer myself. 'I'm a non-famous writer who is going to be famous some day.