Milkshakes and Heartbreaks at the Starlight Diner Page 6

  ‘No. I was once. But I’m not anymore.’ There. That wasn’t a lie. Not the whole truth but not a lie.

  ‘I’m sorry. I…’ He scratched his forehead dead in the centre. ‘I got married too. When I was younger. It didn’t work out. Makes it difficult to trust new people. And that, well, that can get pretty lonely.’ He took a step towards me.

  ‘Well,’ I said, part pleased by his assumption, part wishing I had the guts to tell him something closer to the truth, ‘I suppose everybody’s loved and lost,’ and then added, ‘I’m sort of trying to stop acting like I’m the first person in history to have it happen to them.’

  ‘I didn’t realise.’ He bowed his head. ‘God. I shouldn’t have called you…’ He took another step forward.

  ‘A psycho?’ I shuffled on the spot.

  He opened his mouth to say something but the words stuck in his throat. Staring into each other’s eyes, we cut through our awkwardness with short, nervous laughter.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve had some bad…’ He stopped and pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Please, just forget I said that.’

  ‘Yeah. Sure.’ I gave him a frail smile. ‘Thanks for getting me home.’ Turning then, I walked up the steps to the front door, fumbled for my keys.

  ‘So I’ll see you around. In the diner maybe,’ he called, stood at the bottom of the steps with his hands in his pockets. He looked so humble, not at all like someone who was about to get their big break in the movies.

  ‘Yeah. Well, you and Angela are going to the hop, aren’t you?’

  ‘Oh, er…yes.’ He glanced down at the pavement.

  ‘Guess I’ll see you then, if not before.’ I gave him a nod and scurried inside, pushing the door shut behind me. Leaning back against it, I let out a heavy sigh. My head throbbed, my mind flitting back to the moments I’d spent in Jack’s arms. Best not to get dejected or anxious about how overpowering the need to be close to him now was. He was with Angela and that was for the best. For everyone. Yes, I’d been lonely the past couple of years. Being on my own hadn’t proved as easy as I thought but what was the alternative? Getting close to someone? Losing myself a second time? No. If I let that happen again, I may never find my way back.

  Chapter Seven

  An assembly line of familiar faces awaited at the diner the next day, including Jack and Angela. All of them in earlier than usual, guaranteeing a front row seat at the counter.

  ‘Mornin’,’ Mona said with obvious weight.

  ‘Good morning.’ I smiled. ‘Anybody need their order taking?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve got an order here for an explanation about what happened yesterday.’ Mona put her head on one side, and leaned in towards me.

  ‘Can’t I at least get a cup of coffee down me before the interrogation begins?’ I yawned. I’d been awake most of the night with my throbbing head.

  Mona laughed. ‘Not sure I can stretch to that, it’s been bad enough waitin’ this long. You really gonna make us speculate any longer? C’mon.’

  ‘It’s a dull story. I warn you now. Total anti-climax.’

  Oh Esther, you liar.

  ‘Let us be the judge of that.’ Mona rested on a high stool stood behind the counter and looked at me, waiting. I took a deep breath and thought about what to say. Where to begin. How little I could get away with telling them.

  ‘You were a teacher,’ said Walt. I looked at him, picked up a coffee jug and topped up his drink before answering.

  ‘I used to teach literature. Back in England.’

  ‘That explains the crossword clues.’ I shook my head. For Walt, that was the most significant enigma of all when it came to me. A waitress who read for pleasure was a species completely beyond his imagination.

  ‘You got me stumped, Esther,’ said Mona. ‘If you can teach about Shakespeare what in the world are you doin’ sweeping floors and makin’ milkshakes? If I could teach about books I wouldn’t be here. You can be sure of that.’

  ‘What’s wrong with this place?’ asked Bernie from his perch at the end of the counter.

  ‘Nothin’,’ said Mona. ‘I just love comin’ home with achin’ feet and smellin’ of bacon fat. Loved it every day for the past thirteen years.’ Bernie’s left eye twitched but he didn’t say any more on the subject. Mona turned back to me with an expectant hand on her hip. ‘Well?’ I looked at Jack. He caught my eye but then looked down into his coffee, stirring in some more milk.

  ‘Well, teaching, like a lot of things, isn’t the charmed life you might imagine.’ That’s right, Esther. Focus on the professional. Keep it surface. ‘People think all you have to do is talk for a few hours and revel in the long holidays but there’s a lot of pressure. At least there was back in England.’

  ‘So you left to be a waitress?’

  I gave Mona a playful push. ‘I left to become something I wasn’t.’ That was the most truthful thing I’d said to anyone for years. ‘For the first time in my life I didn’t know what I’d be, and that was exciting.’

  ‘Waitressin’ excitin’?’ Mona shook her head in disbelief.

  ‘In a city like New York? Yes it is, to me,’ I said.

  ‘Well I ain’t never heard nothing like it. All that studyin’ of books, years it must’ve took, and you travel halfway around the world to serve people eggs and toast. Can barely pay your rent,’ said Mona.

  ‘I don’t expect you to understand –’ I started pulling pots out of the dishwasher ‘– but to me it’s liberating. I don’t have the weight of children’s futures on my shoulders. Leaves room in my head for other things. Each day I wake up knowing the worst thing I can do is take the wrong order to a table.’

  Or lie to everyone. About everything.

  ‘Actually,’ Angela said, speaking for the first time that morning, ‘I think we learnt yesterday that’s not entirely the worst you could do…’

  ‘Angela.’ Jack shook his head.

  ‘Oh, I was just joking, Esther…’ she began to backtrack.

  ‘It’s fine.’ I laughed. ‘I took it as it was meant.’ She smiled a radiant smile. Her lip gloss glimmered even in the faint, yellowing light of the diner, and she wore an acid green shift dress patterned with tiny triangles that brought out the earthier tones of her rich, brown hair. It was conclusive: she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in real life. Eat your heart out Yasmin Le Bon.

  ‘So that’s it?’ Mona turned her head sideways.

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘Oh, and there’s just that little matter ’bout you bein’ a Mrs?’

  ‘Yes.’ I bristled. Mona didn’t miss a thing. ‘I had a husband. And I don’t like to talk about it. And that’s definitely enough fodder for you lot for one day. I’ve got to get on.’

  ‘You sure do,’ said Bernie, ‘and you too.’ He glared at Mona who would stand and gossip all day if it weren’t for the distraction of serving customers.

  ‘Before you do, I’ve got a clue for ya.’ Walt sat armed with a black biro and a crumpled copy of The Times.

  ‘Hasn’t the fun being taken out of it now you know the source of all my powers?’ I asked.

  ‘No. Not all the fun.’ He chuckled.

  ‘Alright.’ I shook my head stacking the next load of cups and plates in the dishwasher. ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Famous poet who wrote “Beauty is truth” –’

  ‘Keats,’ said Jack and I, our voices falling on top of one another. I stared into his face. He stared into mine. An idiotic, dreamy smile crept across my lips. Handsome and familiar with the poetry of John Keats, how was I supposed to resist that combination long-term? Angela looked between us, one to the other.

  ‘How’d you guys know that?’ she asked, the wounded note in her voice snapped me out of my trance. Jack must have noticed it too. He ran reassuring fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head.

  ‘Well, it used to be my job to know things like that. I don’t know what his story is. Old age, probably.’

  Angela twittered.<
br />
  ‘Actually, Keats is one of my favourite poets,’ said Jack. ‘You’re not the only person around here to have read a few books.’ He narrowed his eyes in jest.

  ‘Well,’ Angela said, draping her arms around Jack’s neck, then turning his chin to face her and looking deep into his eyes, ‘I’ve never heard anything by Keats. Maybe you could read me some later tonight?’

  ‘I’d love to.’ He smiled and rested his hands on her hips. ‘I’ve got to go now though, got a read-through to get to.’

  ‘Jack’s first movie is doing so well at the box office, he’s landed a role in a new action movie.’ Angela bragged to the small crowd of regulars. ‘It’s called Nowhere Left to Hide.’

  ‘I can just imagine him comin’ to the rescue.’ Mona smiled, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I glowered even though I didn’t know whether she could see my expression. Her little dig confirmed my suspicions that yesterday’s incident would become part of the diner’s mythology – a story that would never die. I sighed at the thought of my future notoriety and started cleaning down the counter top for something to do.

  ‘See you at your place?’ Angela asked Jack.

  ‘Yeah. I’ll see you.’ Angela leaned in to kiss Jack but he made what seemed like an awkward swerve and she missed. He kissed her on the forehead instead and left the money for his breakfast on the saucer with his cheque. Angela watched after him and then turned back to her apricot smoothie. Stirring the pulp with her straw.

  ‘You sure got a catch there, honey,’ said Mona.

  ‘Yeah.’ She looked down at her drink. ‘I’m not sure it’s gonna work out though.’

  ‘What?’ My voice was shriller than I’d have liked. ‘Why not? You two just got together,’ I said, adjusting to a more casual register.

  ‘I know. It’s complicated.’

  ‘It’s complicated already? What’ve you had, like four dates?’ asked Mona, leaning closer.

  ‘Six, if you count the day we met.’ Angela smiled. ‘It’s weird. I don’t really know how to explain it.’ She paused for a moment. Looked at me, then down at the counter. ‘On one level I know I should be ecstatic Jack wants to take me out. When he gave me his number I was like that, but you know when someone is just not who you thought they’d be?’

  ‘Huh,’ Mona grunted, ‘just about every man I ever dated, except Alan of course, but even he has his moments.’

  ‘I think he’s gorgeous obviously. But I thought… Something’s just not right,’ she said.

  ‘Well, maybe you should give it a bit more time?’ I suggested. ‘You probably haven’t known him long enough to make an in-depth assessment of your relationship potential. It’s very early days.’ Then I stopped talking and began thinking about how sick it was to play relationship counsellor with a woman I’d just met and a man I was struggling to resist. It was insane that the only way I could be close to Jack was to keep my distance. In what universe did that make sense? And much, much worse, I was advising Angela through the sour fog of a hidden agenda. She deserved better than that, and I knew it.

  ‘You’re probably right.’ Angela shrugged. ‘He just seems…’

  ‘What?’ asked Mona.

  ‘Distant. Like he’s not really there.’ Mona and I looked at each other, then back at Angela.

  ‘That’s men, honey,’ said Mona.

  Angela nodded. ‘Maybe. He’s reluctant to talk about his past, that’s for sure. You know how it is on the first few dates. Past relationships are bound to come up but whenever I asked about his, he’d change the subject. He thinks I didn’t notice but of course I did.’

  I thought about what Jack told me about his previous marriage and wondered if Angela knew. Why did Jack have to tell me that? I didn’t want to keep more secrets, especially not from somebody as sweet-natured as Angela.

  ‘Jack is a little bit older than you, maybe he just doesn’t want to scare you off with all his past heartbreaks?” I suggested. I wasn’t telling her exactly what Jack had said, just hinting at it. ‘Everyone has a history. Some people are downright blocked when it comes to opening up about it.’

  ‘Yes.’ Mona eyed me. ‘Some people are indeed.’

  I rolled my eyes and tilted my head towards Angela, reminding Mona that this was not about me but the young girl in front of us, feeling lost.

  ‘You’re probably right,’ said Angela, though she didn’t seem convinced. ‘Anyway, I’ve gotta get off to work soon.’

  ‘What do you do?’ I asked.

  ‘I work just round the corner at Venus Athletics. I’m Junior PR Officer there. Got a big presentation this afternoon. Boss wants my thoughts on making VA the number one sports brand in the US.’

  ‘Oh, no pressure then.’ I laughed.

  ‘Oh don’t, I have zero ideas. It’s going to be a disaster.’ She counted out some money onto a saucer.

  ‘I take it the “sports brand of the gods” angle has already been done with a name like Venus?’

  ‘Yeah. Their last major campaign was all about loving sport. Goddess of love, etcetera. It’s just not sexy enough.’

  ‘Well, Venus was the goddess of desire too. Maybe you can create a campaign built around lust, rather than love? An Olympian lust, or something.’ I was just spouting rubbish, even more so than usual, but Angela paused.

  ‘That’s interesting.’ She pondered. ‘Thanks. I’m going to think on that. Oh, you won’t mention anything to Jack, will you? About what I’ve been saying?’

  ‘No, honey,’ Mona reassured her. ‘Sometimes you just gotta talk. We understand that.’

  I nodded and smiled. Great. Now I was keeping secrets for both of them? My lot in life, it seemed.

  ‘Guess I’ll see you guys later.’ Angela smiled, and with that she was off on a mission to change the face of Venus Athletics.

  ‘You don’t think we shoulda mentioned the wall-punching thing?’ Mona asked once she was sure Angela had gone.

  ‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘We don’t even know what that was about. It’s just none of our business.’ Mona raised both eyebrows and pursed her lips. She may not agree but it wasn’t our place to tell Angela anything. If Jack was hiding something then maybe, just like me, he had his reasons.

  I picked up a tray and headed to a table in the corner. Mona followed and helped clear the filthy pots strewn across it.

  ‘Hey,’ she said as we stacked plates slick with bacon grease. I looked up at her. ‘That friend of yours with the homicidal husband? It’s you, isn’t it?’

  My eyes widened. Oh God. I should’ve been expecting that. For Mona to put together the pieces. But I hadn’t. I’d been too caught up in Jack and Angela.

  Always prioritising the important stuff, Esther.

  ‘Well?’ Mona pushed. Was she really going to make me say it, out loud? That Mrs Delaney and I were … No. She didn’t need an answer. She could see the truth, and no doubt the colour draining from my face. I gave her the stiffest of nods. ‘But you said … you didn’t die,’ she added.

  ‘Didn’t I?’ My eyes lowered to the table, fixating on the dregs of a black coffee some customer had left behind. ‘Maybe not. Maybe it was just the woman I was who died. The woman I became when I married him.’

  ‘Your husband. Where’s he now?’

  I pressed my lips together tight. I’d have to tell her something here. Acting suspicious in front of someone married to a cop was a sure route to getting caught out.

  But careful, Esther. Careful.

  ‘He …’ Though I wrangled with them, the words rose like bile in my throat. ‘He’s dead,’ I whispered. Mona looked at me sidelong. ‘The real kind of dead. We bought a gravestone and everything.’ One that’s been hanging round my neck for two years. Its lead weight dragging me down into cold, empty places nobody else knows about.

  ‘Esther, what did he do to you?’

  I took in a sharp breath. My eyes filled with tears and my lips pushed tight against one another. Shaking my head, I picked up the tray and started
towards the counter. Then I stopped.

  ‘Nobody can know any of this,’ I said, and then, making a gradual turn so I could look straight into Mona’s deep brown eyes, I added, ‘ever.’

  Mona gave me a reluctant nod.

  Turning my back to her once more, I marched off to finish loading the dishwasher.

  Chapter Eight

  The subway lurched into 23rd Street. I stepped out onto the platform, jogged up the stairs and pushed through the turnstile, eager to be above ground again out of the gloom and stale air. It was my Friday off and Angela had insisted on shouting me a couple of cocktails. Earlier in the week she’d come in for breakfast at the diner, buzzing about the reception she’d had to the Olympian lust pitch. Apparently it had proven an unexpected success with her office superiors and, following several failed attempts, she’d managed to persuade me into going out for a drink to celebrate, on her.

  I wasn’t ecstatic about the idea of boozing with Jack’s girlfriend for fear of what I might say after one too many Mojitos but she was so persistent about treating me it seemed rude to turn her down. Though I hadn’t seen him all week, I was still thinking things about her boyfriend I really shouldn’t be thinking. Throwing kindness back in her face on top of that would, I was almost certain, mean automatic entry into the ninth level of hell. If I wasn’t already headed there, that is. I could only pray Angela wouldn’t want to talk about her sex life. Or my non-existent love life. In short, my plan was to beguile her with tales of bad haircuts I’d had over the years and follow that up with an in-depth discussion about which member of New Kids on the Block was the hottest.

  I spotted the bar Angela had chosen opposite the station: The Tropic Lounge, which stood in the long shadow cast by the Flatiron Building. Presented with its polished exterior and curvaceous neon sign, I looked down at my clothes. I was dressed like a pauper in a pair of ragged, acid-wash jeans, a baggy, white shirt and a scuffed pair of navy Converse that were about to fall apart at any second. I sighed. This wasn’t how I had to live. Only how I deserved to live. Far away in England, there was a sum of money stowed in a bank account with my name on it. But that was Mr Delaney’s money. Not mine. Besides, after what I’d done, the bottom rung was where I belonged.