NeS Original: Blueberry Pie

Written By:
Page 1: Natalie Cecilia
Page 2: Stephanie Cooke
Page 3: Billy Seguire


Blueberry Pie

He pulled out his PSP and began playing right away, oblivious to the artwork on the walls or the place setting on the table. Oblivious to the other people all laughing and talking to each other over soups and sandwiches and homemade pastries. Oblivious to the new waitress behind the counter, pouring him a glass of water.

She was watching him now, mouth pursed in annoyance. This was rude, him coming into the diner and playing his game like this. Not that she had anything against technology, but she had always assumed there was a time and place, and lunch was not the time and crowded diners were not the place.

“Here you are,” she announced, placing the glass of water and a menu down rather assertively. She pulled a notepad out of the large pocket in her apron and pen out from behind her ear. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He didn’t even look up when he answered her.

“I’ll take a coffee and a slice of blueberry pie.”

With an audible huff she scooped up the menu and walked away. Not till he was sure that her back was turned did he look up.

He hadn’t been aware that the diner was hiring again, much less had gotten a new girl. He hadn’t been here in a few weeks though so that could be why he missed the change. She was a pretty little thing, dressed rather oddly for this place, for being a waitress. Whereas most of the other servers were in jeans and comfortable, loose fitting t-shirts, she was wearing a cotton, knee length skirt, bright blue, and a plain black shirt with an off the shoulder neckline. Like the other waitresses she was wearing black tennis shoes, Converse, and had her hair pulled up into a bun, the ebony waves bouncing around as she walked away.

Her simple, albeit quirky, clothes couldn’t make her seem as plain as the others though. She had a bright smile and vivid eyes, though he couldn’t make out their color from this distance. She wore her eyeliner too dark for her complexion but it did make her eyes pop.

Soon he grew aware of the time that had passed while he was thinking about her and realized he had to go. He finished up his pie before throwing down his payment and walking out, not saying a word to anybody as he left.

She glared at him through the glass doors as he walked away.

“What’s wrong, Hun?” an older waitress addressed the younger server.

“I can’t believe how rude he was,” she said quietly.

“How do you mean, Nicki?”

“He just kept his face in that stupid game the whole time. No conversation, no smile, I don’t think he even looked at me.”

The older waitress smirked at Nicki’s complaints. She had heard them before from other, also younger waitresses and had a stock response prepared, “That’s Damien. He’s a regular.”

“We don’t have regulars.” Nicki snapped back, following Heather over to the cash register where she was counting out the till from the end of her shift.

“Before you complain too much go look at the tip he left. He’s every girl here’s favorite customer.”

Obediently she went over and sure enough found a ten dollar tip for a three dollar meal. Nicki stuck her tongue out at the older waitress.

“Fair enough. But I still don’t care for him.”

“If you don’t like the customer, at least like their money,” the other woman advised wisely.


The next night Damien came in during the graveyard shift, around one in the morning. There was no one else in the diner and so he had his choice of tables. The new waitress was working again and Damien listened wordlessly to her walk up to his booth.

This time Damien just people watched out the window. Being a heavy bar town, there weren’t many people out on the streets this time of night that weren’t drunk or stumbling home, so it looked like something out of a George A. Romero movie. Shambling limbs, arms lurched out in front of them for balance, some of them could even get the groans right. It was a scene Damien had shared experience with in a different life. He hadn’t thought-

“What can I getcha?” the waitress asked with false sweetness. He turned as he heard her speak. She looked tired and annoyed.

He glanced at her nametag. It read NICKI. So that was her name. He wondered if it was her real one. People in the city often came to work at places like this to not be noticed for whatever reason and Damien wasn’t in a position to ask.

She had a hunch she knew what he was going to order and she was right, “I’ll be right back with your pie and coffee,” she said as he was only halfway through his order.

Nicki walked away and grabbed the pie and a pot of coffee. She walked back to his table and put down the pie and poured the coffee into a cup. She did it with an air of distance, wanting to put as much space between her and the customer as possible.

Just as she turned, Damien reached out and touched her hand, sending goosebumps up her arm, “Why don’t you sit for a second? I want to apologize about the other day.”

“I don’t think I should. I’m still working…”

“Come on. I am your only customer and the moment. I’ll even buy you a slice of pie,”

It was late. Nicki was tired and she was also hungry. Her boss wouldn’t… no, couldn’t be mad at her for humouring their best customer. And Damien was right; it wasn’t like the place was busy. She grabbed a slice of blueberry pie and put a dollop of ice cream on top. She grabbed a cup and returned to Damien’s table, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

She took a bite of her pie and looked at Damien. He had to be in his early thirties. He wasn’t really what she would call handsome, but he wasn’t unfortunate either. Maybe if he cleaned up a bit… he had dark shaggy hair, light brown eyes, almost hazel, but his best feature by far was his smile. It was warm and heartfelt, just subtle enough to make her feel like he didn’t smile for everyone. Between the dual forces of Damien smiling at her and the sensation of food finally hitting her stomach, she loosened the harsh demeanor she had been carrying with her while she worked.

“I’m sorry about the other day,” she said, “I was raised by my mum. She taught me that there’s a time and place for everything and I guess a little bit of her came out when I saw you at the table with your game. I can have a low tolerance for rudeness, even when it’s none of my business.”

He smiled, “If I knew it would offend you, I never would have taken it out.” He took a bite of his pie and swallowed before continuing the conversation, “You’re new, aren’t you? How long have you been here?”

“Oh, uh, I guess I started a couple weeks ago now. One of the other girls had an accident or something and they needed someone right away. I’m a friend of Amber’s.”

“I’m Damien,” he said warmly.

“Yeah,” she replied with a blush, “I know. Heather told me.”

Damien craned his neck around behind him and saw the older waitress wiping down the counter with Lysol wipes. He remembered Heather. Her gray hair still draped around her shoulders like it had when he first started coming here years ago. Damien took another sip of his coffee as he watched and turned back to the girl across from him.

“Did she tell you who I was?”

Nicki shook her head. She was about to ask him that question herself but found her hand reaching over to the plate instead to pick herself up another bite. As she raised the fork to her lips the blueberry filling started to dribble down on her and, embarrassed, she had to bring a napkin up to her chin to wipe it off. Damien had watched it all with a bemused smile on his face. To his surprise, she too started to chuckle.

“I’m sorry. This is ridiculous but I haven’t had anything to eat since I started my shift.”

“How long’s it been?”

Nicky thought about it for a moment, trying to recollect a set amount of time from the jumble of faces and empty stretches the night shifts could bring. “I don’t know. Hours, I guess. You?”

“I’m not on shift.”

“Yeah, but you just got off. Enough people come in here, I can usually tell a lot about them just from their expressions and habits. Where they’ve been, what they want … who they are.”

“A good quality for a waitress.”

“Hopefully more than that. I’m only waitressing here until I can save up enough money to go to college. I want to study criminology… eventually,” she put down the fork, getting down to business, “So. How long were you working tonight?”

“Longer than you.”

“And what were you doing, Mr. Mysterious?”

Damien took his time responding, his eyes concentrated on her in earnest interest, “Why don’t you guess?”

Nicki pushed the pie forward and crossed her arms in front of herself for a minute as she studied him. Knowing it was a game now, she made a show of it, her nose scrunched up making it look like she was sniffing the truth out of him, though truthfully Damien found it all rather cute, “Well?”

“Well…” she started, taking care in her words, “you’re a regular. So you either work near here or it’s on the way home. You always come in alone, usually with your face stuffed in a videogame or a newspaper, so it’s not about the community. You don’t work regular hours, obviously. It’s unpredictable… unsteady. You come here because it’s always the same,” Nicki’s eyes tracked the growing tension in Damien’s face, lost in the moment, “…but you stay for over an hour. You don’t really just want the pie, either, or else it wouldn’t always be here. There are plenty of others that make it better than ours, after all. It’s not a stop-off. It’s the destination. You don’t have anything to go home to.”

The heavy sounds of cars passing across the interstate stopped the silence from permeating the air as neither Damien nor Nicki spoke a word of response to Nicki’s analysis. Damien’s head had sunk low over his coffee. He wouldn’t raise his eyes.

“You earned your pie,” he mumbled.

“Oh. No, I…” Nicki stammered, coming out of her deductive trance, “God, I didn’t mean. I’m sorry, I ramble, and sometimes I just talk without thinking. I don-”

“I should really get going.”

Nicki watched as Damien stood and put on his coat. He was like a spooked deer, jerking his body awkwardly, sustaining motion searching for a means of escape, “It’s because of what I said isn’t it? I’m sorry; you just wanted me to guess your job. I got carried away.”

Damien stopped moving, “You couldn’t have said anything differently.”

Nicki made stuttering attempts at language without success. Her full-heartedness drove her forward, she just couldn’t decide on what to say.

Damien continued putting on his coat. Nicki stopped him, “Just... don’t stop coming here because of what I said. I have no idea what I’m talking about anyways and… I’d really like to talk to you again. Even if I did mess it up. I mean, there’s a time and a place, right?”

He was nervous. He only nodded, and there was a hesitation in his voice, “Could I get some mints before I go? I don’t want to go back home with my breath smelling like coffee.”

Nicki nodded and headed off to the cash register. In fluid motion, he pulled out his wallet and quickly dropped a handful of cash on the table, making sure it as at least four times what the bill was worth. With a mournful glance back at the waitress, he met her eyes yet again. Those eyes… blue… he could tell now. Gorgeously blue.

He turned away, his heartbeat pounding. Without waiting for her to come back, he left.

END.


EPILOGUE:

About a minute after he left, Damien remained in the parking lot looking back through the glass doors into the restaurant.

He saw Nicki cleaning up the scraps from another table behind where they had been sitting. His chest was shaking. She was more than pretty and seeing her working in a place like this was one of the saddest things he had seen in the past few weeks.

Pulling away, he took his keys out from his pocket and pressed the remote unlock. The lights flickered on a black Porsche, obscured by shadow from the light of the lampost. Damien opened the car door and tossed the PSP from his pocket onto the passenger’s seat, waking up the jaunt figure sleeping under a threadbare leather jacket.

“Back off, mate,” the figure mumbled as he turned around. He was similar in age to Damien, only thinner and with a scruffy mess of stubble on his face.

Damien sat silently with his arms laid across the steering wheel.

“What do you know about the new girl?” he finally asked, nodding his head towards Nicki.

He leaned forward and squinted his unadjusted eyes in the general direction of the diner’s windows.

“Hmm? Nicki? Yeah, she was one of mine.”

“How old?”

He leaned back down in his seat, the weight of a hangover hanging over him. “About 18. High school kid. Outsider … but wicked smart, you know? Valedictorian or some bullshit like that. She was driving with some friends and their car went off a bridge. Ugly mess. Really put a damper on my night.”

Damien “How long ago?”

“Couple weeks. Back when you were still doing your little stint in Iraq herding the soldiers.”

Damien was silent.

His companion finally sat back up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his palms. “I hate coming to dives like this all the way out in the boondocks. It always feels so stagnant. Is there any particular reason why you keep dragging me out here?”

“I like the pie.”

“Bullshit.”

“You want to pay to eat upstairs?”

He put the key in the ignition and drove off towards the highway. Those Romeros wandering the streets would be wandering into traffic soon and they had to be there to collect what remained.

Damien always felt sorry for girls like Nicki, cut down in the prime of their lives and unable to accept the fate that had befallen them.

Most would stop in and eat at the diner before moving on. Only the most desperate, and foolhardy, those like Nicki and Heather and the other girls who worked there, would cling to it enough to stay on permanently.