Alice's Story
A/N & Disclaimer: first off, not Stephenie Meyer, don't own the characters. That being said, I thought it would be fun to write a little one-shot about Alice waiting for Jasper in the diner, with him eventually showing up. I hope you enjoy! Please submit a quick review if you do, even if it's only like, two words. Thanks!
Alice's Story
I sat on the small stool, one elbow on the counter, leaning my head into my hand. How long was this going to take?
"No one yet, dear?" the middle-aged waitress asked sympathetically, placing a glass of water down in front of me, and leaning on the counter as well. I shook my head sadly and sighed. "Maybe you won't find him, just sitting here like this…?" she said softly, testing the waters. She'd made this suggestion to me many times before, and my reaction was always the same.
"No," I said coldly, looking up at her. My eyes must've been darker than I thought, because she jumped back in alarm. My face fell. I didn't want to lose my only companion that I had found in this poor woman. I couldn't imagine what her life must be like; every time I came to this diner she was here, behind the counter. We talked a bit while I waited, and from our conversations I gathered that she had no family, no friends, and no passions: her life was this diner. She ran it mostly by herself, employing two cooks who alternated shifts and a few snotty teenage girls to wait tables. The diner itself was tiny; a row of booths lined the wall on either side of the double doors leading into the place, wrapping around on the outside walls. There was one very long bar with tons of tiny plain-colored stools lined up along it. It seemed to be forgotten in the middle of the city, sitting on the corner of a busy intersection, but more often then not passed by in the bustle of the day.
"He'll be here," I said reassuringly. She smiled sympathetically; clearly, she thought I was trying to assure myself as much as here. I'd seen him walk through those doors a million times in my mind; I knew exactly how it would play out.
"Okay," she said with a nod and a smile. She must've thought me to be a hopeless romantic, sitting on a barstool day after day, waiting for my "prince" to come take me away somewhere better. But I had one up on Cinderella: I knew he was coming. I saw him coming here before he even knew it himself. He would come.
At first I had come to the diner every day when it opened and sat at this very stool, watching businessmen, old ladies, and young couples come and go. I would make up back stories for them in my mind, imagining how they met, why they loved each other, and what brought them to this diner. I could always clearly see where they were going, but I enjoyed making up their pasts.
Eventually, the visions of the one I waited for became clearer and clearer, and I realized it was dark when I met him, storming outside. I stopped showing up at the crack of dawn every day to see if he'd be there. It was always reassuring when I had to stay hidden on sunny days, knowing that he wouldn't be seen in public either – I couldn't miss him.
"Describe him again," the woman said warmly, leaning her head into both her hands on the counter.
"Well, he'll be southern," I said with a giggle, "and have blonde, curly hair, pale skin, and dark eyes, like mine. As soon as he comes in, I'll jump down off the stool and go talk to him. Then we'll leave together."
"Sounds wonderful," she said with a sigh, tilting her head and staring off into space, no doubt having daydreams of a young, mysterious stranger coming to take her away from this place as well.
Something felt different about today. I had a feeling this was it. A cold breeze whipped my crazy hair around, and I turned to the door to see a young couple coming through the door, and they settled themselves in seats a few booths down from the one in the corner. Suddenly, the vision flashed back to me; this couple was in it, wearing the same clothes and everything.
"Today's the day!" I hissed quietly yet excitedly to the woman, snapping her back to reality.
"How can you be sure?" She asked.
"Them." I pointed at the newly arrived couple.
"Oh! I didn't even see them come in. Where are those stupid girls?" she asked, casting her eyes around the diner for her conspicuously absent waitresses. She snatched her pad of paper off the counter, pulled the pen from behind her ear, and took off towards the end of the counter to take their order. It was a lull; there were only a few other customers at the other end of the restaurant, who had already eaten, paid, and were just sitting chatting amongst themselves. No wonder the waitresses had taken their self-declared breaks.
I sensed him long before he came in. I sat on the edge of the stool, anticipating the moment he would walk through those double doors. Then, finally, exactly as I'd seen in my vision, he pulled open the double doors, shaking the rain out of his curly blonde hair. I jumped down off my stool and strode purposefully towards him.
"You've kept me waiting a long time," I said.
He bowed his head politely. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said.
I heard a gasp from behind me, and looked around to see the woman behind the counter standing, staring at us, mouth open, and eyes wide. "He…" she began softly, but said nothing else. I flashed a smile at her, and then turned back to the man who had just walked in. I grabbed the umbrella from the stool next to me – naturally, I'd been prepared, knowing that it would be raining – and held out my hand to him. He took it wordlessly, and we walked out of the diner.
Standing out in the rain, I released his hand for a moment, opened the umbrella, and held it over the two of us. Then I seized his hand again. "Hi," I said, smiling warmly, "I'm Alice."