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Christmas Eve
Dec. 27th, 2006 01:00 pmWith every step, the wait-staff's shoes squeaked an irregular rhythm on the floor of the restaurant - which, while lacking the low-grade class of a real diner, still made some pretension towards the traditional checkerboard floor and cracked leatherette seating. In a diner, though, you might reasonably expect some decent food, and here in the quarter of the truck stop devoted to “serving it up right,” it was all lousy.
“Hell, I don’t know why I’m unloading on you like this,” a grizzled man was saying, sprawled in one side of a red pleather booth. “Ain’t your problem.”
“Maybe not,” Raguel said from the seat across, and waited for the man to continue.
“Just a run of bad luck lately.” The man starts to continue, stops, starts again in a rather different tone of voice. “My brother disappeared a couple weeks ago.”
Raguel is carefully silent. It’s hard not to respond with something along the lines of I know.
“Hadn’t spoken to him in about three years, but you know how it is with family,” the man continued. “You don’t think about catching up with the ones you keep expecting to run into.
“Family’s a complicated thing,” Raguel agreed, surprised at how little effort it took to look like he knew what he was talking about. He tried another swig of weak coffee and looked vaguely interested in the décor, anything to avoid looking at the guy. His companion spotted the face he was making and laughed tiredly.
“I can see what you think of that coffee without even watching you squint like that. You haven’t had a whole cup in the three hours’ time we’ve been here.” The man looked into his own cup with distaste. “I wouldn’t give this to my dog.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly the recommended formula for them, is it?” Raguel replied, relieved. He swirled the liquid in his mug and watched it stick to the sides.
“See, you’ve never met my dog or else you wouldn’t say that,” the other man said confidently. “Jessie could go through this crap in no time. A real mutt. She’s been in two fights this month – couple of bigger dogs, owners don’t know how to keep them under control.”
He either missed Raguel’s skeptical look, or chose to ignore it.
“I leave her sleeping in the rig now when it’s not too hot,” he continued. “Cab’s pretty comfortable. She’s getting on, though. Gonna be fourteen this year, and these small dogs don’t live so long.” He smiled falsely, no more than a crooked slash across his face.
“I don’t know,” Raguel said after a pause, distracted. “If she’s a mutt she might have a longer-lived breed in her bloodline, something like that. I bet she’ll surprise everybody and live another ten years.”
The man nodded after a moment, chuckling more naturally and signaling for a warm-up of his unpalatable coffee. Their conversation wandered aimlessly after that, though touching again on his missing brother who the man had become convinced was dead. Raguel didn't disagree. They talked their way through a smattering of memories both unique and universal. The man’s sister, disillusioned with her exhausting job working in a nursing home. His childhood pet, a rabbit that ran away when he took it out to show his father a splinter in its foot. The illusions dancing in the heat shimmering off a long, straight road.
“Hey, thanks again for that hand with the low tire,” he said as they parted, much later. “I checked them at the last stop and probably wouldn’t have bothered again if you hadn’t said something.”
“Yeah, sure,” Raguel said, with his customary shrug. “See you around, Eric. Merry Christmas.”
Eric climbed into his cab, gave Jessie a scratch and began easing the truck out of the parking lot. They were a few miles down the road before it occurred to him to wonder when, exactly, he’d told the stranger his name.
“Hell, I don’t know why I’m unloading on you like this,” a grizzled man was saying, sprawled in one side of a red pleather booth. “Ain’t your problem.”
“Maybe not,” Raguel said from the seat across, and waited for the man to continue.
“Just a run of bad luck lately.” The man starts to continue, stops, starts again in a rather different tone of voice. “My brother disappeared a couple weeks ago.”
Raguel is carefully silent. It’s hard not to respond with something along the lines of I know.
“Hadn’t spoken to him in about three years, but you know how it is with family,” the man continued. “You don’t think about catching up with the ones you keep expecting to run into.
“Family’s a complicated thing,” Raguel agreed, surprised at how little effort it took to look like he knew what he was talking about. He tried another swig of weak coffee and looked vaguely interested in the décor, anything to avoid looking at the guy. His companion spotted the face he was making and laughed tiredly.
“I can see what you think of that coffee without even watching you squint like that. You haven’t had a whole cup in the three hours’ time we’ve been here.” The man looked into his own cup with distaste. “I wouldn’t give this to my dog.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly the recommended formula for them, is it?” Raguel replied, relieved. He swirled the liquid in his mug and watched it stick to the sides.
“See, you’ve never met my dog or else you wouldn’t say that,” the other man said confidently. “Jessie could go through this crap in no time. A real mutt. She’s been in two fights this month – couple of bigger dogs, owners don’t know how to keep them under control.”
He either missed Raguel’s skeptical look, or chose to ignore it.
“I leave her sleeping in the rig now when it’s not too hot,” he continued. “Cab’s pretty comfortable. She’s getting on, though. Gonna be fourteen this year, and these small dogs don’t live so long.” He smiled falsely, no more than a crooked slash across his face.
“I don’t know,” Raguel said after a pause, distracted. “If she’s a mutt she might have a longer-lived breed in her bloodline, something like that. I bet she’ll surprise everybody and live another ten years.”
The man nodded after a moment, chuckling more naturally and signaling for a warm-up of his unpalatable coffee. Their conversation wandered aimlessly after that, though touching again on his missing brother who the man had become convinced was dead. Raguel didn't disagree. They talked their way through a smattering of memories both unique and universal. The man’s sister, disillusioned with her exhausting job working in a nursing home. His childhood pet, a rabbit that ran away when he took it out to show his father a splinter in its foot. The illusions dancing in the heat shimmering off a long, straight road.
“Hey, thanks again for that hand with the low tire,” he said as they parted, much later. “I checked them at the last stop and probably wouldn’t have bothered again if you hadn’t said something.”
“Yeah, sure,” Raguel said, with his customary shrug. “See you around, Eric. Merry Christmas.”
Eric climbed into his cab, gave Jessie a scratch and began easing the truck out of the parking lot. They were a few miles down the road before it occurred to him to wonder when, exactly, he’d told the stranger his name.
