noootes: I don't own doctor who! this takes place post-martha. please read and review!
Rama Lama Ding Dong
by iloveyousong
My baby love me
I'm so happy
Happy makes me a modern girl
Took my money
And bought a TV
TV brings me
Closer to the world
My whole life
was like a picture
of a sunny day.
- Sleater-Kinney, 'Modern Girl'
The red plastic nametag on her bleached white blouse reads "Elia Kazan," though she doesn't look a hint like anything other than a waitress at a diner, her longish red hair done up into a net, her freckles bright like stop signs on her pale face. The man in the suit is drinking his coffee slowly, and she sets down a plate of eggs and toast in front of him. He looks up at her with a smile that almost sparkles. "Thank you, dear," he says, and she almost jumps at the strange accent in the middle of the plains.
"Was your mother a Streetcar fan?" he asks when she comes back to refill his standard white mug. She raises an eyebrow and manages not to spill the coffee.
"What?" asks Elia, then realizes the question. She holds the glass coffee pitcher carefully. "Yeah. At least she didn't name me Zapata. That's what I think."
When she turns to walk back behind the counter, the man in the suit quips, "Or Waterfront."
That night, the diner's wife disappears. She was pregnant, and the little town is overrun with gossip.
Willa was so young, says Elia's mother, putting "Jezebel" in the VCR for the second time that day. He was twelve years her senior. No wonder she ran off. I would have.
The other waitresses at the diner chatter about the same thing behind the counter as they refll coffee mugs and pass out pieces of lemon and apple pie. The owner doesn't show up that day; the manager takes charge for now.
The man in the same suit sits in her section again that day. He orders apple pie and she dutifully brings it to him. "Waterfront," he asks her when she brings out the pastry, "what's everyone buzzing about?"
"Willa's gone," she says immediately. "The owner's wife. She was going to have a baby."
The man in the suit is quiet. He leaves soon after, not finishing his pie and forgetting to tip.
Elia goes to sit in the park in the middle of the town during breaks. It's right outside the diner, and it doesn't smell like oil and potatoes and eggs. She looks around, sitting on the edge of a park bench, walking around a tree. At the end of her fifteen minute grace, she leaves, passing the huge maple at the border of the park. A glint of something catches her eye; she turns and a thin, gold ring lies in wait, hanging on a low-lying branch.
She picks it off the branch, holding it in her hand.
Glancing up, the man in the suit is watching her from the other end of the park.