Chapter Text
The menu in her hands felt far too heavy. It shouldn’t take so much energy to hold up a damn menu, Karen thought.
“What’d you like?” Karen’s head snapped up. The waitress stood over her looking as dull as Karen felt.
“Um...” Karen glanced back to her menu, realizing she hadn’t even read it, only stared at it. Above her, the waitress heaved a sigh. “Sorry. Uh, just coffe. Black.” She tried for a smile as she handed the menu back to the waitress. The waitress grunted and turned back to the counter. Karen slumped forward in her seat, cradling her head in her hands, elbows propped up on the table. She turned her head, staring at the passers-by and traffic outside. Despite it being the tail end of December, the sky was blue and sun shined down on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. It shouldn’t be such a nice day. It really shouldn’t.
The waitress returned to Karen’s booth, setting down the cup of steaming black (probably watery and tasteless) coffee none too gracefully. Again, Karen tried for a smile, but whatever happened on her face was obviously not a smile, given the waitress’ stink eye.
“Alright, listen here. I don’t care how much of a hangover you have, or what shit happened that’s got you all salty, but don’t put it on me. Drink the coffee, don’t complain, and leave a tip.”
Someone slid into the booth behind Karen.
“Got that?”
“Yeah. Loud and clear.”
“Good.” Again, the waitress left, leaving Karen to her coffee. (As predicted, it was watery and tasteless.)
The person sitting at Karen’s back waved the waitress over. Why Karen wasn’t surprised when she heard his voice, she had no idea, but somehow it just made sense that he’d be there.
“Kinda a bitch. Clearly she’s got some issues.”
Karen gave an amused huff. They both had at least twice the issues any waitress in Hell’s Kitchen had. “Shouldn’t you be in hiding somewhere? Avoiding suspicion? Staying away from trouble?
“I think we both know I can’t do that.”
They sat there then, back-to-back, each sipping their cups of bland coffee, their thoughts accompanied only by the white noise of passing cars and pedestrians. Their silence was companionable, almost supportive, weaving their individual struggles together in a single shared moment. Karen wondered briefly what Frank was thinking of in those moments. Was he thinking about what had happened since he’d escaped prison? Was he thinking about what he had done? What he was going to do? Karen caught his reflection in the window as she watched the passersby. It was a surreal moment. They were unable to really speak, really see each other, yet there they were: two wandering souls in a cheap, gritty café just trying to find a goddamned grip on reality. Just trying to find some sense in the world amid all the shit– Karen pushed out the thoughts of Matt and his alterego as they began to invade her mind again.
“Why are you here, Frank?” she asked minutes later.
In the window, Karen watched his reflection settle back into his seat and shake his head. “It’s a messed up world, Karen. Really messed up.”
“You can say that again.” She sipped at her coffee, staring blankly at the seat across from her.
“I’ve been lying low. Found some work. I’ll be leaving New York for a while.”
“How long’s a while?”
“A year, two.” He called for the waitress and paid for his coffee. Karen did the same, leaving a generous tip, and again the two sat in silence together.
“Stay safe, Karen.” He stood. “And word of advice? Whatever shit’s getting to ya, don’t let it.”
Karen didn’t turn to watch him. She knew he’d have as well as disappeared into thin air. She watched the clock on the wall strike ten. She’d be late for the office. 10:02. Screw it, they weren’t paying her yet. 10:03. Would the waitress spike the coffee if I asked? At exactly 10:05 she finished her coffee.
Thanks, Frank, she thought, much too late. Good luck. I mean it.
The door clink-ed on her way out. She’d forgotten it had a bell.