The Diner

A bell rang sharp and clear, pulling him from the murky, drowsy water. His head shot up, and with a sharp intake of air, he scanned the sparsely populated diner.

His breath quickened, and he took the time to remind himself that he was not in danger—only sleep deprived and paranoid.

He leaned forward on the greasy, food-stained wooden table and rested his head in his hand, rubbing at his eyes until stars dotted his vision.

A half-filled cup of coffee sat in front of him, the steam long gone and the liquid long cold. He summoned a waitress and asked for another through slurred words and a few short pauses to clear his head, reminded himself of what he wanted in the first place.

She returned moments later, setting the coffee down with a gentle clack, then retreating with fervent vigor.

He stared at the cup, watching the steam escape the cup in wispy breaths, and glanced out the window. An orange streetlight haunted the road, and cars passed by in a steady but slow hum.

His guest should be here any minute.

If he remembered where his watch was, he could check the time.

But before he could glance around the diner for a clock, the bell rang again, and in walked a man with confidence oozing off him. From his expensive woolen coat, his finely combed hair, the shining watch on his wrist, it all screamed luxury. But amidst all that luxury screamed something else, so loud it sent tremors through his every being. And yet, as he sat still and tightened his hands around each other, the word he searched for refused to grace his fogged mind.

The man searched the diner, his eyes slowing passing every individual until finally they landed on him. And the moment he did, the spark in his eyes dimmed.

Disappointment, maybe.

Or just plain apathy.

The man approached the table and sat across from him, the tattered, red-leather seats creaking at the movement. A spasm rippled in his jaw, small but noticeable. The man had always hated this place, and yet he’d come, anyway.

“Jacob,” the man said, checking his silver watch. But his glance was so short, it almost seemed a brag—a show of success and pride.

A watch, of all things, to be proud of.

Jacob hid a snarl and cleared his throat, forcing a gulp of his coffee down and regretting it the moment the heat singed the back of his throat.

“Tom,” Jacob said. If he wanted to play the game this way, with a single name as a greeting, then he would play as well. “I see you’re as pompous as ever.”

He awaited Tom’s reaction, but none came. “Is this truly how you want to start our first conversation in… what? Seven years?”

Jacob choked down another swig of his coffee, biting his tongue as the heat burned all the way down. Maybe if he burned his throat enough, he could escape this conversation, let another seven years pass, perhaps. But Jacob had been the one to initiate this meeting, had been the one to send the text and write the letter and even leave a voicemail. He’d been desperate, but now that he sat in front of the man, all the anger, all of the memories, came flooding back in one sweltering tidal wave.

“I’m sorry,” he forced out, his voice raw from the liquid fire travelling down his throat.

There was the reaction he’d been waiting for. Tom blinked, his body leaning back, as if the words had physically shoved him deeper into his seat. His mouth formed a thin line, and he nodded. An acknowledgement.

“Six years… by the way.”

“It was a guesstimate.”

“I see.”

Tom tapped his fingers impatiently against the table, frowning when the pad of his thumb brushed against a mysterious patch of liquid. “I assume you called me here for a reason. You were more than a little cryptic,” he said as he removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his hand aggressively.

“I did,” Jacob said. He yearned to stop the sentence there, but he’d left his tone hanging, anticipating another string of words to complete his thought.

The smell of sizzling bacon drifted by, providing a pleasant distraction, long enough for him to steel himself.

“I did indeed.” He gritted his teeth. He could’ve slapped himself.

Tom let out a huff, his stare as intense as it had always been. “And are you planning on telling me?”

Jacob nodded, but it wasn’t to say yes. Truthfully, he did not know why he moved his head up and down other than it helped him consider his next words, as if he was shaking the cobwebs loose. “I… have news. The kind of which you would be interested to know.” A bitter lie. He doubted a man like Tom ever considered his brother, ever thought about him, other than to shake his head sullenly and wonder what went wrong.

“If you don’t spit it out, I’m leaving. I came all the way down here, to this filthy place, just for you to reveal whatever grand mystery you’ve decided couldn’t be spoken over the phone. I will grant you only a moment more before I stand up and walk out.”

A moment passed of rotten silence, souring the air, then Tom made to stand.

“Wait,” Jacob hissed, his hand slapping the table. He didn’t mean for it to come out so fierce, but at least it stopped Tom in his tracks. “I… This is much more difficult for me than you can imagine.”

Tom narrowed his eyes, furrowed his brows. “I’m not giving you—” he looked around conspiratorially and lowered his voice “—drug money again. I’m done. I made that mistake once, and I will not make it again.”

“Nor will I.” Jacob reached into his own coat, torn and much too thin to keep out the cold. It took some wriggling around, but his fingers grazed a small piece of disc shaped plastic. He removed it and placed it firmly on the table with the smallest of clacks.

Tom’s disposition relaxed, his shoulders dropping. He blinked, as if he thought it would disappear, or perhaps that it was a dream. “Is this…”

“It is,” Jacob confirmed, staring down at the small blue chip, the tiniest of token carrying the larges of accomplishments. “Six months sober.”

Tom readjusted his position in the seat, facing his brother head on. “Well… good. But again, I fail to see the necessity in a face-to-face meet up.”

“That one’s more complicated.”

Tom’s mouth formed a thin line. He didn’t speak, just stared and waited.

“I…” Jacob tried to force the words out, to push the air out from between his teeth and shape the sound into what he needed to say.

“Stop.”

Jacob cringed, and a haze shimmered in the room. The cars outside the diner slowed, then stopped. The people at their tables froze mid-bite, and the waitress stood still. She’d been pouring coffee into a cup, but now the coffee simply lingered in the air, caught between the pot and the mug.

All stood frozen, paralyzed—except his brother, staring at him with a newfound fire in his eyes. “Seriously? Not even your actual brother, and you still can’t say a few simply syllables.”

“I—” Jacob couldn’t think of what to say, even now. He was right. He’d been given this opportunity—this… illusion—to reconcile with his brother, the only family he had remaining. And even in an artificial scenario, he couldn’t do it. “I’m sorry.”

‘Tom’ raised an eyebrow, leaning on one arm on the table, his fist clenched tight. “Is that for me or for him?”

Jacob didn’t answer.

“I don’t have forever, you know,” he said, leaning forward. His breath reeked of cigarette smoke. “Well… I suppose I do, but you—” He clicked his tongue and checked his silver watch. “—do not.”

“Please let me try again.”

“Why? So you can stutter like a lost child again? No, I will not rewind this fable I’ve crafted just for you to ruin it all over again. Decide what you’re going to say, say it, then move on.”

“I wish I could’ve told him.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“Is there truly no way for me to—”

“No.” His voice rang cold despite the heat emanating from him, producing a sweat on Jacob’s forehead.

Jacob didn’t bother wiping it away, too stiff and awkward in his own skin, too scared to move.

“And this?” He grabbed the chip from the table and flipped it between his fingers. It danced across his knuckles a few times before he placed a fake expression of shock and opened his hand, revealing his palm and no chip. “Really? I didn’t realize this was a rewrite of the past as opposed to an addendum to it.”

“This is my fantasy, my second chance. I can at least—”

“Lie?” He chuckled. “Isn’t that what got you into this mess to begin with? Why you could never repair your relationship with your family?”

Jacob gulped. “Please give it back.”

“No.”

Jacob’s lip trembled and his eyes watered. He turned his head, forcing himself to look at the frozen bodies behind him, their eyes so full of life even as their bodies couldn’t move. The spark that always lived within them, even when they aged and died and returned to the earth.

“Look at me.”

Jacob ignored him, taking every moment he could to compose himself.

“I said look at me.”

Jacob turned his head back to his ‘brother’, a tear spilling down his cheek before he could stop it. He dug his nails into his palm, the dam cracking and cracking and raring to burst.

“Say it.”

Jacob shook his head. If he said so much as one word, the dam would burst, and he refused to cry in front of this… apparition. This man who wasn’t a man, who had approached him with promises of a second chance, an addendum as he called it.

“Say it.” The man said. “Say it to me.”

Jacob couldn’t reign his emotions in. He was desperately clambering for a foothold, something to stop the tidal wave.

“I won’t let you leave until you say it. We’ll be trapped here, staring at these people for eternity, waiting as time refuses to inch forward another second until you say the damn words, Jacob.”

Jacob opened his mouth, and the dam broke. Through a sob louder than he could have possibly imagine, the words croaked out through it, hollow and quiet in comparison, but loud enough to ring through the frozen diner. “I’m dying.”

Jacob shoved his face into his hands as the tears came, spilling like raindrops between his fingers and tapping onto the table.

“What?”

Jacob could’ve spat. How dare this man play coy just to goad him into repeating the words that had already taken him so long to say. But the inflection, the tone, had been different. It wasn’t how the man spoke.

It was how his brother spoke.

Jacob hadn’t even noticed the roaring silence had been shattered. The diner returned to its low bustle. A few patrons stared at him as he scanned his environment until his eyes finally landed on his brother, slack jawed. “What did you just say?”

Jacob gritted his teeth so hard they creaked, and he opened his mouth again, the sobs spilling out in shorter, quieter burst. He suffered to push the words out again.

“I’m dying, Tom.”