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It was a Thursday evening, and just like every other Thursday evening before it, there was a distinct lack of noise throughout the diner. There were the typical noises of a restaurant–grills rumbling, coffee machines hissing, and this diner’s addition of song, a languid trill of jazz flowing over the empty booths. Each booth was a dark, teal green, tabletops matching in color and sporting a metal framing among its edges. The attention to detail that had gone into every piece that was attached to the floor and walls brought on the feeling of nostalgia to a place one hadn’t been before. Despite it’s slow evenings, Knox didn’t entirely mind being paid to spend his shifts in this establishment.
Keating’s Diner essentially operated as a giant, living time capsule. 50s aesthetics lined the walls, but not as just pictures giving insight into that era, but as actual movie posters and personal photos that had been maintained and donated throughout the years. That also included the rotary phone the diner used, a phone that Knox had to learn infallible patience to use, since hitting buttons was “just infinitely better”, in his millennial opinion.
Knox watched the hands of the wall clock, sighing as it hit 8PM, and continued to sweep the lobby. It wasn’t any dirtier than the last time he swept, but it was enough to keep him busy when the diner found itself barren in the evening weekday hours.
As Knox rounded the end of the booths, he flinched as a rush of cold air swept in, accompanied by the bell above the door. Knox greeted the man that came in and set the broom down to seat him, but he took a slight pause as he took in the man that clearly rushed in there. His face was flushed with red, whether from exertion or the cold, Knox couldn’t be sure.
The man wasn't dressed for the weather, wearing nice jeans, a button up, and a tailored suit jacket that would hardly keep out a mild wind chill.
“One, please.” the man said, slightly out of breath. He looked away after that, not maintaining eye contact for long and finding somewhere else in the diner to lay his eyes.
“Wherever you want.” Knox gestured around. “You have free reign. Menus at the table.”
The man nodded his thanks and found a booth closer to the kitchen. Once seated, his head became cradled with flattened palms, index fingers lining his forehead.
Ah, Knox thought to himself, a rough night. A special category of customer who was not there of their own free will, but of finding a place of unknown solitude, escapism from the outside world. Knox gave him 10 more seconds before approaching him, leading with “What can I get chya?”
“A coffee’s fine.” the man said, and in the lighting that hung over the table Knox could make out green eyes, large and tired.
“Coming right up.” Knox obliged, and headed in the direction of the coffee maker. With a quick flip of the latch, coffee filled the white ceramic mug, steaming with a pleasant scent that Knox never found himself getting tired of.
Knox took another glance at the customer, who had resorted to staring at the table from a leaned back, slouched position. Knox set the coffee down with an idea and walked into the kitchen opening. He found the two cooks, Todd and Neil, on their phones scrolling through some sort of social media.
“Hey, we still have pie right?” Knox asked the two as they sat on the width of upturned milk crates.
“If Neil hasn’t eaten them all.” Todd remarked, and defended himself from an elbow Neil directed to his side.
“Yeah,” Neil said. “They’re in the cooler.”
Knox smirked as Neil whispered in defence of himself for his pie crimes.
Their pie shelf contained remaining slices of apple, raspberry, lemon meringue, chocolate mousse, and huckleberry. All great options in Knox’s opinion, but he grabbed a slice of huckleberry and walked to the floor, grabbing the coffee as he went.
He set both down on the table, the man giving a questioning look.
“I didn’t order pie.”
No shit, Knox wanted to say. Instead he said, “I know. But people don’t usually come here on a Thursday evening and order a single coffee ‘cause they’re having a good night. It’s on the house.”
The man looked as though he was trying to hide a smile in the line of his mouth, and slowly one did appear on his face. “Okay. I’m a taurus. Can you tell me what that says about me?” He propped an elbow on the table and leaned his chin into his hand, smiling expectantly.
At first, Knox thought maybe he’d struck a nerve, but the man’s eyes had lit up, losing their drooped appearance.
Knox played along. “Well, let’s see. Uh you’re headstrong, have a good sense of fashion, you make the best out of any situation and-” he paused for a second. “makes a mean lasagna.”
The man laughed out loud, a chime that sent a thrill up Knox’s spine. His smile revealed a mouth of straight, almost blindingly white teeth. Based on appearance and hygiene it might be fair to say this man came from some sort of money, but that would just be another assumption.
“What kind of pie?” The man pointed to the baked good.
“Huckleberry.”
The man’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before settling on the offered food.
“Aren’t huckleberries out of season?” The man asked, but reached for a fork anyway.
Knox raised a brow. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure. I just know we sell it,” and added an aloof shrug at the end. The man laughed again, and Knox, beginning to forget he was even on the clock, smiled back in self satisfaction.
“Then I will appreciate my out of season pie, courtesy of–“ He cut off and looked around.
“Keating’s.” Knox supplied.
“Keating’s.” The man gestured his fork in cheers and slipped the piece into his mouth. Knox grinned as the man hummed in satisfaction and nodded his head.
After swallowing the man swiped at his mouth with a napkin and looked at Knox. “You’ll have to give my regards to whomever made this.”
He warmed as the man directed another smile his way. “Of course.” Knox stated. “I’ll leave you to it.”
The urge to stay and chat with the man and learn his name sat with him as he made his way to the kitchen, thinking of the smile that’s turned his own evening of boredom around.
“Hey Todd–“ Knox stopped at the scene he came upon. Todd had his phone in his hands, recording Neil doing, and not doing well, some sort of dance. Todd laughed as Neil almost tripped on air while maneuvering his feet, catching himself before falling over.
“Sorry, what was that?” Todd acknowledged Knox, wiping small tears from his eyes, still laughing at Neil.
“Compliments on the pie.” Knox threw a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to outside the kitchen.
“That’s because he makes the best pies.” Neil said and threw an arm around a bashful Todd. Being locally owned had its perks when every meal and pastry was handmade by a skilled and talented hand, Todd being one of the better ones.
“What were you doing anyway?” Knox asked.
Neil rolled his eyes as Todd began snickering again.
“He asked me to do this tiktok dance, so I did,” he stressed the word and directed his eyes intently on Todd, “and now he’s got proof of me being a fool. Just don’t send it to the group chat.”
Todd looked blank for a moment, before looking down at his phone. “I didn’t even think of that.” A small battle ensued over Todd’s phone, no real malace behind their tug of war, before Neil managed to wrestle it out of the others grip with a triumphant cry.
Knox’s own laughter was cut off, the bell over the entrance catching his attention, and he turned to greet the customer only to discover no one had come in, the door shutting with the sound of the latch. He looked to the formerly occupied booth and discovered the cup of coffee and pie slice had been consumed in full.
He could see the man’s disappearing figure in the street lights and Knox fought the pull to go after him. He didn’t even know the guy’s name, let alone having any reason to chase him down. He sighed in resignation and gathered the cup and plate but stopped as he spotted something on the table. It was a $20 bill and a business card. Knox set the ceramic ware down and picked up the firm piece of paper.
“Contact me =)” was written on the back. Once flipped over he was finally able to catch the man’s name.
“Charlie Dalton”.