The door jingles when I open it, and I curse the fact that every business in this god forsaken city puts a fucking bell on their front door. I know it’s to announce the arrival of people in a city full of crime, where you always need to be aware of your surroundings, but it’s really a pain in the ass for the criminals like me.
She doesn’t look up though as I grab a laminated menu from the hostess station and put it in front of my face, walking between the padded booths to the back of the diner. No one notices me in fact, and it’s a good ten minutes of watching her silently before the same grumpy waitress finally comes up to me.
“What’ll it be hot stuff?” She asks, her voice gruff, her breath smelling like a week-old wet ashtray.
“Coffee, and some French toast, bacon, and home fries.” I say, keeping ahold of the menu when she tries to take it from my hand. “I’ll keep this please.”
“Suit yourself.” She grumbles, waddling away towards the side counter that’s in front of the window for the kitchen.
Phoenix sits, facing away from me, her hands occasionally fluffing her hair from her face. She takes a phone call on her cell, then sets her head down on the table. She looks tired from what I can see, almost defeated and sad.
You made her sad. You make everyone sad. Look at your mother. Poor woman.
“Fuck off asshole.”
I want to go to her, to hold her, to tell her that everything will be alright, but how can I do that when I pose the greatest danger to her? It would be feeding her to a pack of wolves on purpose when all I want to do is love her.
Love her? Are you mad?
“I think we’ve already established that.”
“What did you say, Sugar?” The waitress asks, setting down my coffee, and looking at me like I have ten heads.
“Nothing.” I grumble, taking the mug and swirling it around, looking in its black depths like I’m looking into my soul.
“Whatever.” She scoffs and walks away again as silently as she arrived, which is impressive for her age and size.
I watch as she goes to Phoenix and delivers her a plate of food, which my angel barely touches. She moves the meat around on the plate with her fork, stabbing at it aggressively, then passively as it grows cold. She’s trying to force herself to eat but doesn’t want to when she raises a forkful to her lips and frowns as she slowly puts it in her mouth. It's painful watching her chew slowly and swallow hard, choking it down.
You did that to her.
“You did.”
I am you, shithead.
Phoenix struggles but she eats most of what’s on her plate ignoring the waitress every time she goes to her table, waving her off with dismissive shoos of her hand, just wanting to be left alone. The middle-aged woman continues to bother her though, and on the fourth time of her trying to talk to her, I can feel the anger brewing up inside of me.
“God, just leave her the fuck alone.” I murmur under my breath in annoyance.
Hmmm, advice you should give yourself?
“Maybe.”
I’m lost in watching Phoenix, my eyes trained fully on her, my hands idly spinning my mug on the table top, and again I don’t notice the waitress come up to me. The slamming of the plate down in front of me startles me from my daze, and a drop of coffee spills from my mug onto my hand, heating my skin.
You should have left your gloves on.
“Are you going to shut your mouth anytime soon? I’m a little tired of your attitude.” I huff, wiping the hot liquid away with the white paper napkin on the table.
“Excuse me child?” The bitchy woman says, putting her hand on her hefty hip, staring down at me with furrowed brows.
“What? Nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing. You have an attitude problem?” She asks, leaning her fist on the table, bending down to get in my face.
Looking up at her for the first time, and really seeing her, I can tell that she’s a bitch of a person all the time. Her name, Barbara, on her gold name tag even rubs me the wrong way.
“I do not, Barbara. Do you?” I seethe at her, raising my upper lip in disgust at her.