SEBASTION #2
Cooks go about their business in the kitchen, and a radio plays something from the sixties in the far corner, while a woman works the counter, snatching up a pen and order pad in one hand, a coffee pot in the other.
We’re not her only customers, but it takes only a second to count the five others in here; two sets of two, and a single man with a trapper hat pulled low to keep his ears warm.
“Hiya.” The waitress moves with more enthusiasm than the early hour should allow, blasting us with a bright smile and glistening white teeth.
The buttons of her dress struggle with the size of her chest, but she doesn’t seem to mind, and Scarlett’s refusal to drag her eyes away from fidgeting fingers means she doesn’t notice.
“I reckon you folks might’ve been on the road all night, huh?
” She dips her pad and pen into her apron pocket, then flipping two mugs, she fills both without asking.
“That’ll get you pepped right up. You want something to eat, or… ?”
“You got some of those kiddie placemats here?”
Curiously, Scarlett’s eyes shift upwards.
“I see them sometimes, with the picture to color in. Sometimes there’s a word search.”
The woman studies me with a glittering playfulness in her gaze.
If she’s surprised by my question, she doesn’t let on.
Instead, she clicks her tongue, raises a single finger to tell me to wait, then she darts away and returns mere seconds later.
With a flourish of her hand and a wild grin stretching her face, she slaps a jungle themed paper placemat right in front of me, with tigers and monkeys, trees, and a big fat smiling snake dangling from a branch.
She drops a packet of crayons immediately after.
“I got more if you need ‘em. They come in different designs, so there’s one with a mermaid, too. And another with… like…” She uses her hand to explain.
Poorly. “Planes and trains and automobiles.” Finally, she looks to Scarlett and takes out her ordering pad.
“I know y’all are hungry. What can I getcha? ”
“Just juice for me, please.” Pale-faced, Scarlett drops her gaze. “Apple, if you have it.”
“She’ll have bacon and eggs,” I cut in. “A full serve. Thick-cut toast; drown it in butter. She’ll secretly wish she had pancakes for the short-term carb boost. Since the syrup will make her happy, you can bring her one.”
“One?” The server raises a questioning brow. “Just one?”
“One. Plus the bacon and eggs.”
Suspicious, the woman leans a little closer to Scarlett and mock-whispers, “Blink twice if you’re in a controlling relationship, baby girl. I can help you.”
Scarlett snorts. Finally! She barks out a cathartic laugh, one that makes her chest bounce and verges on hysteria, but it’s quick, then it ends with nervous hands brushing loose tendrils of hair from her neck. “We’re not in a relationship. He’s just my security personnel.”
“Security?” The woman leans even closer. “You famous or something?”
“She’s royalty, actually.” I slide the jungle placemat across the table and position it beside Scarlett’s coffee. “I’m not saying she can’t have the pancakes. I’m just saying she’s gotta prioritize her protein first. Can’t be all hoity-toity and rule a kingdom with low blood sugar.”
“And just so you know…” Scarlett’s expression turns serious. Sad, but hard. “If this really was an abusive relationship, you asking just now, the way you asked, would’ve made things worse for me.”
“W-worse?”
“Way worse.” Tucking her hair back and dragging the zipper open on her bag, Scarlett takes out her pencil case and selects an array of glitter pens.
No kiddie crayons for her. “If you feel as though a woman is in distress, then by all means, ask if she’s okay.
But do it in private. Do it carefully. The way you just asked me, in that jokey tone where he was the butt and his ego was at risk, that could’ve put me in danger.
Abusers don’t like exposure, and they hate when someone on the outside notices what he thinks he’s hidden.
If I really was sitting with my abusive boyfriend right now, my only choice would’ve been to lie and tell you I was fine, and even then, he would’ve punished me as soon as we climbed back into our car.
Probably wouldn’t even let me get out at the next diner, no matter how hungry I was, or how desperately I needed the bathroom, because it was obviously my fault you saw through him in the first place. ”
The poor, remorseful server wrings her hands and gives Scarlett the cartoon eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Scarlett does what she always does: she fakes a smile and acts as if the world isn’t hurting her.
“I’m not in an abusive relationship anymore, and despite how big and mean he looks,” her eyes flicker momentarily my way, “what appeared to be a controlling moment was actually his attempt at ensuring I would eat something. Anything. Probably means he’s capable of human emotions.
” She uncaps her pen and goes to work drawing a pattern into the snake’s belly.
“He cares enough to make sure I put something in my belly. But he’s new at this, which makes his efforts a little awkward. ”
“N-new at what? Ordering?”
“Caring.” Scarlett’s lips curl sneakily to the side. “I’ll have the bacon and eggs, please. Two pancakes. And I still want the juice.”