It started out innocently enough; he came to Maggie's every day to have a cup of coffee and enjoy a slice of pie. He was friendly, very polite and always left a tip. Whenever I had not been at work the day before, he said he had missed me and kept telling me how I was his favorite waitress. At first I was flattered, but after a while it started to make me feel uncomfortable because I didn't understand why he always had to make sure I'd hear it.
Like I said, it all felt so innocent… until I realized something just wasn't right with him.
It was Friday night and I was just about to close the diner when he stepped in. I was calculating the cash when the bell on the door chimed.
"Sorry, we are closed", I said, not bothering to look who it was. I put the cash back to the machine and then checked over my shoulder if the customer had already found their way out.
But he was there, sitting on one of the stools and creasing his worn-out cap between his bloated fingers. He looked around, like he was unsure where everyone else was. At that moment I began to wonder if he was having something wrong with his hearing or maybe some kind of storage disease, but later I realized he could hear me loud and clear and could remember everything all too well.
It was just that he was didn't care as he was obsessed.
"I'm sorry, but we are closed", I repeated and he brought his eyes on me. I figured he'd be soon on his way, but he made no attempt to leave.
"You still have some coffee left in the pot. Would be a shame to waste it. Why don't I just buy one cup?" he suggested. I mean, I agreed that it was a waste to throw the coffee away, but I had a routine and I didn't want anyone to mess it up. I wanted to be home before the kids went to bed.
"I already counted the cash, it's going to be mix up my calculations to–" I started talking, trying to find my way out, but he was already counting his coins that he had pulled out from his pocket.
"How much is it?" he asked.
I sighed, but figured he would not leave until he'd get his coffee.
"1.25."
"Okay… here you go", he said as he handed me the exact change. I took it and set it aside. I would put it to the cash register tomorrow. I flipped a clean cup under the counter and walked over the pot. When I was pouring him a cup, I could feel his eyes on me. I don't know if he really was staring at me or was I just imagining it.
Looking back, maybe I wasn't.
"Here you go", I said as I put the cup on the counter and grabbed myself a kitchen cloth. He smiled as a thanks, and I started cleaning the tables.
It was quiet in the diner and I always kind of liked that after a busy day. It felt like "my time" between the job and the home where I could just breathe and unwind a little. But now, I was constantly interrupted by this guy.
"Any plans to write another book?" he asked out of the blue.
I turned around as if to wonder where this was coming from all of a sudden. When he saw my puzzled expression, he nodded toward the another counter at the tack section where we had few copies of my book, "Mom's The Word".
"Oh, I don't know", I chatted, "haven't really found time to write."
"Well, can't be easy, you being a single mom and everything", he said. He probably wanted to appear sympathetic, but for some reason it rubbed me the wrong way.
"Yeah…" was all I said, not really feeling comfortable talking about this to him. It was true, I had been busy with the kids but it was nothing new since I had basically been a single mom for years now it felt even though Peter and I had only made the divorce official some time ago.
"That Peter guy could step up once in a while and offer some help, you know", he talked about him as if he would have known him.
I stopped what I was doing, wondering if the guy even realized how weird he appeared to me.
"Oh, I bought a copy", he explained when he noticed how I tried to figure him out. "It was a good book, too short, though. Good thing I found your blog. Not that you have updated that much lately."
It was then that I regretted ever even putting anything out there.
When I had started out, I had not thought about anyone reading that stuff. It had been something for me, sort of like a void to scream into to make me feel better.
But then my blog had blown up.
Of course I had realized it was on the internet, for everyone to see, but most of my followers had always been moms in the same situation and we had received support from each other. It had been great not only because I could have real, honest conversations with fellow moms, but also because my blog was somehow giving them hope; someone else was out there too, struggling with the same stuff.
But it was weird to actually meet "a fan" face to face, especially when that admirer was an over-friendly middle-aged man.
For some reason he saw my silence as an invitation for more conversation. He pulled something out of his case he always carried around, and I became alerted. I had never feared at Maggie's because Hudson was a small community with many nice people who posed no threat to each other, but that night I was scared, and it was all because of this guy.
"Hope you don't mind, but could you sign my copy?" he asked, setting my book on the table. Something about the combination of the innocence of the pink book cover and his creepy appearance was disturbing.
"Uh, I should really get these tables cleaned", I tried. Usually I was happy to sign any copy, but I began to fear it would only give him a reason to think that I was interested in being friendly with him.
"Come on, it won't take long. I will be on my way after that."
I don't know if he realized how uncomfortable he was making me or was he just trying to use my excuse against me, but whatever it was, I was happy to send him on his way.
"Okay", I finally agreed and came to him. I took a pen behind the counter and then grabbed the book, opening the first page. "Who do I address this to?"
"Joe. My name is Joe", he said, his face lighting up. It was almost as if he had waited for me to ask it for a while now. I ignored his smile and wrote: "To Joe, from Lou Fleming."
"So, you're going by the Fleming again?" he asked, acting as if we were familiar with another again.
Maybe reading my book and my blog had made him feel like me and my family were friends of his or something, but it felt weird to me. I didn't even know this guy, yet he acted as if he knew anything about me. Even though I had put a lot of my heart and soul into my writing, it was all superficial and no casual reader or follower would ever know who I really was. It required more than reading few of my entries.
"Yeah", I said and then got back to my cleaning. He sat there, and from the corner of my eye, it almost seemed to me like he was disappointed I wasn't picking up the conversation.
Eventually he put the book back to his case, got up and went to the door.
"Have a good night", he said and left.
When the bell chimed again, I slowly drifted toward the door and made sure I had really locked it this time. I sighed out of relief when I was alone again, even though I still felt like I was in an aquarium as the streets were dark and empty and I was inside the lighted diner.
I walked over the counter to clean up his mug, but pretty soon I realized he had not even touched his coffee. He had not come to the diner to have a one last cup before turning in, he had come the diner with no other intention than to see me.
As I shuddered, I took his mug, walked behind the counter and grabbed the pot to my other hand, pouring down all the coffee as if as a revenge to him for making me feel so uncomfortable.