Author's Note: To be fair, I thought I'd state that the songs that I post with the chapters are only there for the lyrics or just for the mood of the music; sometimes it's both. They are the songs I try to build the chapter listening to. You don't have to listen to them as you read if you don't want to.
"We'll do it all
Everything
On our own
We don't need Anything
Or anyone"
-Snow Patrol, 'Chasing Cars'
Condensation covered the glass door of the shower and small dew drops were making abstract trails and lines down the surface of it. The white tile that made up the shower was heating up as the steam from the active shower head continued to pour. My right shoulder leaned up against the glass; arms tucked in and hair soaking wet. Steam filled the room till all you could breathe was warm heavy air. I stared at the water streaming out of the rusted shower-head, lost in thought.
Fourth of July took place a week prior, I almost missed the holiday, flying by as it was, but how could I with all the sounds going off; and the parks overflowing with the smell of barbequed meat and children yelling with glee, cracking through the air. I had worked that day, and the rest of the week following.
The door to the bathroom opens so suddenly I almost forget to scream; keyword, almost. My body throws itself to the opposite side of the shower; up against the tile of the wall. Covering my body as best I could, I scream; loudly. A man, taller than my measly five-foot-five height, jumps in fright and starts screaming with me. He was tanned, darker than me and more red-toned. His hair was a voluptuous single wave atop his head, the sides were shaved close and it was an overall mess; as though he had just woken up. His eyes, a clear slate grey, were wide with shock and mortification as he turned around; embarrassed to even look at me. Our screams faded, and heavy pants filled the room in their absence.
It was Lisa.
"Why the hell are you screaming?!" Lisa grabbed her chest, right where her heart would lie. Her eyes dart up to meet mine in the mirror. My eyes are wide with disbelief.
"Me?! What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?"
I jerk open the clear glass door and grab the dark-blue towel hanging up by the shower. Lisa's eyes close tightly.
"I asked if I could crash here last night, remember?" Her face was still turned away, giving me the illusion of privacy.
As Lisa spoke, I remembered last night in vivid detail. Lisa and David had shown up after two weeks of silence. The yelling had started up a few hours after Coach Finstock had dropped off my groceries. Didn't She bring a dog? Right on cue, a loud, squeaky barking broke through the thoughtful silence as I got quickly dressed; Lisa's eyes were still closed and face turned away. A puppy, a German shepherd to be exact, came through the open bathroom door, it slid on the floor before coming to a stop against the lower cabinet doors. We both stared down at the fluff ball of happy yips rolling around on the bathroom tile.
Lisa takes the puppy and leaves the room as I finish dressing and tie my hair up in a twist.
When I make it to the kitchen I see Lisa standing with her back to me, I take a seat at the island. Her? He? How do you ask about preferred pronouns without sounding like a pretentious ass? I've been calling them a girl in my head the whole time, what if I was wrong? I lean forward and place my crossed arms on the countertop, resting my chin on upon them. Maybe I should just ask?
"She and her or He and Him?" I blurt out and my eyes go wide. I didn't mean to ask like that. Ohmygod, I think as I watch them jump and whirl around to stare at me with their eyes wide and brows raised. "I-I— I didn't mean to just blurt that out, I swear" hands covering my mouth I continue to watch their reaction with trepidation.
Their lips twitch a few times before they decide to reply, "I prefer He and Him, I know, shocking right?" He looks at me conspiratorially, like he's sharing a big secret and I can't help but smile and huff a chuckle at his antics despite my disappointment in myself for assuming his gender identity. He smiles back, "It's nice of you to ask, not many think to." I have nothing left to say so I end up just nodding my head in agreement and he goes back to buttering his toast.
The rest of the hour goes by in companionable silence before I leave to go to work.
I make it down two of the four flights of stairs leading to the lobby before I'm accosted by David.
"You!" my eyes go wide as I climb down the next flight in record time. I almost feel relieved, until I hear his footsteps pounding on the stairs after me, Maybe it's not me he was calling after? I think to myself, a hint of hysteria slowly creeping into my mind as I hurry. I'm at the top of the fourth and final flight when my head jerks up at the yell coming from above, it's David leaning over the banister.
"Hey! Stop running away from me! I just want to ask you a question! You don't have to be such a snobby bitch about it!" Like I was going to let myself be caught up in the middle of their drama. I turn to continue down the final flight; backpack moving up and down rapidly against my back.
Rushing down the final steps like the devil was on my heels— which as far as I'm concerned, he was— I was finally at the lobby. I was feeling so hopeful standing at the bottom of the stairs before my freedom-flee was interrupted.
"That's the enthusiasm I expect to see this cross country season!"
It was Coach Finstock standing at the manager's desk, smiling that stupid maniac grin, waiting for our sleazy landlord to show up. My eyes close slowly and my face screws up in a grimace, Why me, world? Why me? I silently wail inside my head, feeling like the universe was out to get me. I would feel so rude if I ignored him, so I paste a smile on my face and wave at him. The minute I take a step towards the door, David finally catches up to me. I should've run while I had the chance, forget being rude.
Clutching my left bag strap in my hands, I turn around when I hear David's panting slow down. "God, I wish you would've stopped when I told you to" a peevish expression flits across his face before it's gone in an instant, "I just wanted to know if you've heard from Lisa?" His facial features seem to spasm before he shapes them into, what I believe he thinks is, a charming expression.
My face goes placid and any and all nervous ticks or body language that may give me away to be lying, drain as though they never were there in the first place. You're a terrible liar, all Kodama are, My mind whispers, Don't lie, bend the truth; weave them together so tightly no one will be able to tell fact from fiction.
"I haven't talked to him since seeing him at my door. He asked me if he could crash at my place last night," I shrugged uncaringly. He did show up and ask to stay the night and I haven't seen him since I said goodbye at the door this morning, "—but I never responded. I imagine he crashed on some couch last night." I never talked to Lisa last night, just opened the door to let him in; plus, he did sleep on a couch, you never asked me if he slept on my couch last night.
David's face does this weird twitchy thing before he growls and stomps back up the stairs in a huff.
I sigh in relief, it was only eleven thirty and I had already been put through the wringer. Before I turn and start walking towards the front door of the apartment complex, I remember Coach Finstock. He's watching the staircase with a wary expression contorting his features. Is he worried David will come back down?
"Goodbye Coach"
His head snaps to me, startled. I bow a little towards him in farewell and he nods back, brows squeezing together in thought
"I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel"
-Snow Patrol, 'Chasing Cars'
I was almost late to work.
I mean I wasn't, but I almost was. I had a double shift today, working the lunch hour and the dinner rush. I was in charge of tables three, four, five and nine. The jukebox was playing in the corner, something low and soft, its lyrics were too quiet to make out, but it added to the atmosphere of the diner.
The red and white checkered floor, a glistening tile covering the diner. The walls were a pretty soft blue with black and white posters from the 50's plastered upon them. The seats of the booths were made of a synthetic leather dyed a crimson color, and the backing was thick bands of white and red stripes going vertically along the surface. The tables were made of some type of heavy stone or mineral, in a hue of soft pearly white.
The esthetic of the design was overall pleasing and calming for the emotions.
A sharp barking breaks through my musings. Watson was staring at me through the backdoor screen. When my eyes landed upon him, he started whining like a puppy and his tail drooped down; the paragon of sadness.
The lunch hour rush didn't officially start for another fifteen minutes, it wouldn't hurt to feed him before the customers came in. I walk quickly over to the door and open it, Watson's tail immediately perks up and he trots in victoriously. Manipulation at its finest, I think exasperatedly fond. Herding him to the kitchen I walk past Ms. Kay at the oven.
"Ya' know, you're gonna make him too plump to be my guard dog with how much ya' feed 'em" She shoots me a light scolding look, humor still dancing in her eyes. Despite her reprimand, she does nothing as I feed Watson some bacon from the drying rack, it's left over from the breakfast shift.
I look over at Ms. Kay, watching her scratch Watson from her place on the floor. "Ms. Kay?"
"Yes, darlin' "
"Why did you open the diner?"
After I had asked, I felt guilty at the small sliver of pain that cuts through her contented features, she looked like she was going to flinch. Her smile dims into one I could only call heartbreakingly sad.
"My husband, Richard, bought it for me," here, she smiles a little softer, more tender "—you see, we met when were fourteen, of course, we didn't start datin' til we was sixteen, but we were married a year later anyway," She sighed and looked around the kitchen fondly, as though she was watching the memories flip by. "He bought this for me as a surprise, it was our eighth weddin' anniversary." Her face falters and her voice wobbles, just a bit, and Watson pushes his face into her chest as she continues, "He died four years later."
The air in the kitchen felt heavy, almost bleak in its countenance. I had never been good with comforting, so when Ms. Kay puts her fingertips against her mouth as she loses composure and her shoulders start to shake, I'm entirely lost on how to help.
Hugs? Mom always hugged me or the twins when she was upset. I drop down to the kitchen floor next to her and place my hand on her shoulder. She takes her other hand and places it over my own, shaking.
Watson lays his head on her other side, a piece of bacon still hanging out of his mouth.
"If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you just lie with me and
Just forget the world"
-Snow Patrol, 'Chasing Cars'
We eventually stood up and continued like nothing happened. It was with the chiming of the door opening that I become aware of our first lunch hour customer. It was a group of deputies.
"Welcome to Ms. Kay's, are you ready to order?"
It was much like this for every encounter I had with the customers. I spent much of the lunch hour jetting back and forth between the kitchen and dining area. It wasn't until the last half of the rush, that I found someone I recognized.
"Hi, Sheriff Stilinski, are you ready to order?"
His head shot up from where he was pursuing the menu and when he saw me he kind of just, froze. He wasn't really looking at me, it was more like through me; like he was seeing something else. It only lasted for a moment or two before he shook his head as if to get rid of a thought.
"uh, yeah" he turned his gaze back to the menu, "I'll have the, uh, Double Watson Burger and the curly fries and ah…hmm—" he seemed to be thinking very hard and indecisively over his drink choice.
"Can I recommend the House favorite, Sheriff?" he nods his head and looks up; I continue, "We have Ms. Kay's Old Fash' Malt. It comes in Vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry." His eyes light up in recognition and delight.
"I didn't know the diner still had those" he laughs lightly.
"Yeah? May I ask when's the last time you ate here?" I inquire gently, exceptionally curious.
The spark of humor in his eyes seem to fade a little, "My wife, Claudia, used to be a waitress here when we were in high school, " the corners of his mouth raise a little, "Before she died we would come here every anniversary and birthday to celebrate." He finishes softly, melancholy slowly seeping into his tone.
My heart aches a little at the shared bit of information, "You guys must've loved it here for you to come back so often"
"Yeah, we did, " He casts his gaze around the Diner before meeting my eyes once more, "You know, this is where we met." His hand lifts to stroke the small dent in the table I hadn't noticed was there till he brought attention to it, "—and where we had our first date."
I smile sadly, "You have good taste, it's a great place to have a first date."
He snorts, "I was a nervous wreck the whole time," he taps the dent, "I was so nervous I dropped my malt on the table; I ended up denting the table and breaking the glass." He laughs under his breath. "It was a good day" he sighs. "I don't get to come here much anymore, busy with work and Stiles doesn't trust me to eat healthy."
"I guess he was right," I state wryly. "Considering you're in here ordering Ms. Kay's biggest burger on the menu." Sheriff Stilinski lets out a loud laugh.
Shaking his head, "Just don't tell Stiles, yeah? It'll be our little secret."
I don't say anything back, but I think my wink carried enough words for the both of us.
My lips quirk, amused, "So I take it you'll have one?" I ask shaking the small notepad I have in my palm.
He nods, "Vanilla please."
"It'll be right out, Sir."
It was interesting seeing the Sheriff so soon after our meeting in the grocery store. I wish I could've met his wife though, the Sheriff seemed like a good guy, he deserved love; but I suppose that's the thing, isn't it?
Love.
It makes the world go round and the heart start racing. The love between a parent and child, between brother and sister, or sister and sister, brother to brother, from one partner to another and on and on it goes. Remembering the look in Sheriff Stilinski's eyes, equal parts sadness and fondness, was heartwrenching to me. It reminded me of the same look I saw in Ms. Kay's this morning and in my grandfather's when he talked about grandma.
I busy myself around the kitchen after I deliver the order to Ms. Kay and the other cook. I was thinking too much today, it felt like a blur of hours and minutes squashed together making the world speed up far too fast.
I was due for a break any minute and I was trying to think of what I want to eat while trying not to think about heartbreak and loss. It was a great distraction truly, hemming and hawing over the different burgers before I settling on a plain Cheeseburger and a small fry and drink.
"Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's
Bursting into life"
-Snow Patrol, 'Chasing Cars'
"Did you hear—"
"What? Really?"
"They're chopping down the trees in the east woods. You know, for expanding the new apartments in the warehouse district"
"Susan was totally checking you out"
"So, I've been talking to the doctor about this rash I found on my—"
Okay, too much information my friend, too much. I quickly dart around table three and under random waitress number two's arm. I have found skirting my way around anyone and everyone in the diner was just as much a part of my routine as serving food is; the dinner rush was officially in full swing.
Diving into the kitchen, I can't help but find a excitement in the hustle and bustle of Ms. Kay's diner. "I got a number six with a side of spice wings and a large coco malt!" I can hear Ms. Kay calling out orders left a right and the sizzling of the grease as she cooks meat patties on the stove. The lovely aroma of a garbage can in need of a dumping was also making its rounds. It was an accumulation of sights, scents, touches, and sounds coming and going throughout the kitchen.
I both loved and loathed working the evening shift.
I love it because it had a way of bringing my personality to life. The people I meet and see during these hours always had the best stories, the best personalities, and, I believe, the best of Beacon Hills in general.
I loathed it because at the end of the day my feet would always ache. My shift didn't end until closing time. Considering I work the lunch shift on weekends, I'm here most of the time on my feet running errands.
But, it was worth it.
I pivot around the cook to get to table nine's order and move out the swinging white door leading into the seating area, and with a quick "enjoy your meal," I take stock of my assigned tables.
Nine was currently eating, Three and Four had just been cleared and Five was— oh.
My heart stopped, just for a moment, and then went into overtime. The sounds and sights of the diner all seem to fade away in an instant and I can't help the heady rush that flows through my veins. I felt so giddy you would've thought I was trapped in a pop song.
At table five was Stiles and Sheriff Stilinski.
God, I was pathetic.
To be honest, I did what every seventeen-year-old does when confronted with their newly established crush; I froze. I, honest to god, froze like a rabbit in front of a predator. Staring at the father-son duo laughing at some joke was the most terrifying sight I have ever seen; not because they themselves were scary, but because of the embarrassing and all around humiliating encounter this could potentially turn out to be.
They're at my table. My eyes slip closed in existential horror, I could practically hear my ancestors crying in disappointment and my soul wailing in despair. I'm going to embarrass the shit out of myself, I hate the evening shift! The emotions running through me could almost be compared to those of a pre-temper tantrum, but at this point, I was too high-strung to care about how irrational I was behaving.
Work now, cringing in the bathroom at your awkward-self later.
I took a deep breath and marched to my imminent demise; the word 'hopeless' splattered across my forehead for all to see.
"I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know, that these things will never
Change for us at all"
-Snow Patrol. 'Chasing Cars'
