For most people, the night is a dark, frightening place, where their fears lurk in the shadows, preying on their victims, waiting for that one moment they become vulnerable so they can attack. For Naomi, it wasn't like that anymore. She thrived on nightfall; where she took shelter. In the night, she felt as if she was just another faceless shadow, slipping by unknown––exactly how she wanted it to be. The demons wouldn't be able to find her anymore, because now: she was disguising herself as one.
...
The journey had seemed like a faint dream because before she knew it, she was leant up against a damp, dirty wall in the heart of Bristol, chain smoking her third fag. She didn't know what it was about this city, but it felt right. It felt fresh. New. Quieter and calmer. There weren't hoards of people still walking around at 4am––only the occasional drunk stumbling out of a club with friends in tow which, oddly enough, seemed to comfort her.
Once she had arrived in the city, she'd decided on taking a walk. Her body ached after driving for hours, and it needed to stretch. She took one last hit from her fag and flicked it on the ground, the hot ashes bursting then quickly fizzling out, before she lumbered back to her car, parked a few blocks away at a dingy petrol station.
She was almost to the station when she saw a green neon sign out of the corner of her eye and, interested, she turned around for a better look. Gina's Diner, the lights spelled out. On the front window, in bold green letters, it read, "Saving the world one lentil at a time." She couldn't believe she had missed it before: now, it seemed to stick out like a green thumb (pun intended). Even though it was nestled in between an alley back a little way from the road, it seemed to light up the entire street. After she got over the ridiculous lentil sign, it was clear that they were still open. The lights were on inside and there were a few people sitting down enjoying a late night meal, most likely all-night club hoppers who didn't want a splitting hangover the next morning.
She had a quick internal battle with herself: go in, or return to her car? Finally, she decided on the diner because, really, it's not like she had anywhere else to go. And, besides, it's never too late for a cup of tea, she thought.
The moment she opened the door and entered the warm building, her senses were immediately filled with the smell of fresh coffee beans and hot food. Chilled to the bone, her fingers and nose tingled at the shock of warmth. It was a nice contrast from the bitter November air. The heat and the aroma instantly sent her into a state of serenity, something she hadn't felt in a long time. Before she even had time for another thought to cross her mind, she heard an older woman with an American accent call from behind the counter.
"Hello dear, what can I do you for tonight?" she asked, a bright smile on her face.
Naomi looked around to see if she was indeed addressing her, and immediately felt dumb when she realized of course she's talking to you: she was the only one standing, and the other two customers were already served, sitting in the corner stuffing their faces. Sheepishly, she walked up to the counter.
"Um yeah... could I get a cup of chamomile tea?" she stammered.
"Of course, dear," she said to Naomi, then turned back towards the kitchen and shouted, "One chamomile!" Following that, dishes clinked from behind the swinging kitchen door, and the voice of a young boy yelled, "Aye aye captain!" Turning around, the woman aims that same, radiant smile at Naomi. She hadn't even had a full conversation with the woman, but there was just something so warm and inviting about her, kind of like the restaurant.
"Will that be all for you?" she questioned.
"Yes," Naomi answered, with a small smile of her own. "Thank you."
"My pleasure. Just take a seat and I'll be back in a jiff," she said over her shoulder, and disappeared behind the wooden door.
Grabbing a stool at the counter, Naomi made herself comfortable and, relaxed, she surveyed in the restaurant.
It was small, cosy, and quaint, big enough for twenty people on a good day. Three tables were distributed throughout the dining area, two booths back-to-back on each wall. The walls, painted a warm maroon, were decorated with black and white photos: nature scenes, people, and animals, all coordinated perfectly with the dark, worn wood panelling that covered the floor. Under her fingertips, the counter matched the flooring, though it was still shiny from varnish.
Just then, the door to the kitchen swung open, and the woman came out carrying a steaming cup of tea.
"Here you go, darling. One cup of piping hot chamomile," she announced cheerily, placing it in front of Naomi.
"Thank you," Naomi said, cradling the cup in her hands, blowing the fresh steam off the top in an effort to cool it before she began sipping.
"So, what is a young lady like you doing out so late?" she inquired, leaning against the counter on her elbows, as if she was showing Naomi she had all her attention.
Naomi took a large gulp of her tea, wincing as it seared her throat.
"Umm... just taking a late night drive," she muttered, looking down at her cup.
"Ah, trouble sleeping?"
Naomi just shrugged. "Yeah, something like that."
Before the bubbly woman could respond, she leaned up off the counter and turned her attention to someone behind Naomi. "Cook! Where the hell do you think you are going?"
Following her gaze, Naomi recognized "Cook" as the boy drunkenly yelling in the street, earlier on. Naomi hadn't noticed he was also the one stuffing his face in the corner booth when she had first walked in. He had one of his mates with him––a tall, skinny, tanned young man with shaggy black hair and pretty boy appeal; a major contrast from Cook. He was short and brawny, pale-skinned, his hair sandy, his looks handsomely rugged. Naomi could tell by the way he carried himself that he was a troublemaker and proud of it.
"Just taking a late night stroll with ole' Fredster here!" he said, grabbing his friend and patting his chest, grinning goofily.
"Get your ass upstairs and go to bed," the woman demanded, crossing her arms. By the way she was looking at him, she wasn't kidding around.
"Aw, come on..."
He didn't get to finish his sentence; she pointed to the staircase in the corner of the cafe and simply said, "Now." But he didn't move; he just kept the smirk plastered on his face. She moved her gaze from Cook to the tall skinny boy and said, "Freddie…" Freddie was more submissive. All he did was hang his head in defeat and reply, "Yes ma'am," before he made his was over and up the stairs, disappearing into the darkened room above.
Now Cook stood there, defenceless and alone. After his friend had been sent away, all his barriers were down and he looked like a scolded puppy.
"Now," she repeated, but this time he listened and followed in his mate's footsteps. Cook was about half way up the stairs when she said "Oh, by the way, honey, you are rewarded with the morning shift tomorrow," mocking him in a sickly sweet voice. He paused and let out a long groan before continuing his ascent up the stairs.
Once the boys were gone, she just let out a breath and a small chuckle.
"Boys: what would you do without them, right?"
Naomi smiled genuinely and asked, "Cook, is he your son?"
She paused for a moment with a slight grin on her face before replying, "Yeah, something like that," returning Naomi's statement from earlier and lacing it with a bit of sarcasm to top it off. "Well, both of them. I have a bit of a full house, actually. I have nine kids."
"Jesus…" Naomi said in disbelief.
"Yeah, tell me about it," she laughed, "and to top it off they are all teenagers."
"How is that possible?" Naomi asked, raising her eyebrow.
"Well, they aren't my biological kids. I guess you could say they are 'adopted'", she air quoted.
"How did that happen?" Naomi asked, becoming increasingly curious.
"Well, long story short, they had no place to go so I took them in. Not all at once of course." She smiled, as if just talking about it brought her joy. "We found each other over the years and, eventually, my husband and I ended up with nine of 'em."
Naomi wanted to hear more of their story. She wanted to ask so many questions, but that might have been a bit much for only knowing each other for thirty minutes. Directing her attention back to her tea, she swallowed a mouthful before clearing her throat.
"I'm really happy for you guys," she said, looking up at the woman with honesty.
"Thank you. We are… very lucky," she replied with that signature smile, as she polished the counter with an old rag. Naomi quickly downed the last of her drink and laid a few pounds on the counter to cover her tea before standing up. "Thank you for everything, but I should really get going," she said, sliding into her coat.
"Please, that's on the house." She pushed Naomi's money back across the counter.
Naomi shot her a confused look. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely." She smiled.
"Okay, well, thank you," Naomi said, returning the woman's bright smile.
"No problem. Come back anytime." She held out her hand for Naomi to shake. When Naomi took her grip, she simply said, "Gina," warmly.
Naomi grinned, realizing she was the owner. "I'm Naomi, and you have a lovely place."
She nodded in thanks, and Naomi made her way out of the pleasant diner, back into the frigid night. Silently, she walked back to her car, instantly wishing she could return to the comfort of Gina's and not her frozen toy vehicle. When she finally made it back to the station, the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon and the glow of city lights were starting to diminish. She crawled into the back seat of her car, pulling a thick blanket from the floorboard on top of herself, using her coat as a pillow. When she finally let her eyes close, she feels alleviated, humming in contentment. The stress of the night became irrelevant, and all she could focus on was how good sleep would feel once it took over. In no time, she succumbed to her own exhaustion, and once again she was comforted by darkness.