The buzzing fan
behind the counter made Mary reminisce about the cicadas singing their mating
song during the humid summer months in her native Texas.
Summers in Los Angeles weren’t sticky, but just as hot if not hotter. Fortunately, the diner she worked in was on the shady side of Spring Street. The pale concrete government buildings imposed dark shadows upon the asphalt.
The tiny diner was peppered with a few regulars, not busy for a Tuesday, but it wasn’t lunch time yet either.
Mary rubbed her back through her periwinkle uniform as she wiped the worn countertop with a rag. As she stretched her neck and head, with its loosely bundled ginger hair, she inhaled a waft of coffee and griddle food.
Her half-closed, green eyes filled with light that bounced from the shades worn by the woman who walked through the door. The tan fabric of her high-waisted skirt and pale-rose colored chemise complemented and contrasted against her dark chestnut skin. In the sunlight, she radiated like an angel, making Mary’s freckled cheeks flush a scarlet red.
She’d seen Valerie, the lawyer, often. The prim and proper counselor was much kinder than she looked. On a few occasions, they had chatted at length about scripts Mary had submitted; and though Valerie specialized in criminal law, she offered to look over any contracts Mary might be offered.
It both excited and made Mary uneasy to think that she’d lived in L.A. for over three years and hadn’t sold a single story. She feared she may be doomed to die working at the diner.
“Hola, Mari,” Valerie smiled as she approached the counter.
“Hello, Valerie,” Mary greeted her, shyly pushing her black rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Valerie made her way to her usual booth and proceeded to plop her Michael Kors bag on the seat.
“I think I’ll get the Pig n’ a Poke today. I’ve been good all weekend,” she smiled up at Mary as she removed her sunglasses and pulled some legal files from her bag.
“Sure thing,” Mary smiled, scribbled a note and handed it to Tony, the cook.
“Here you go.” Mary sought an open spot for a coffee mug on what quickly became Valerie’s desk.
Valerie reached out and took it from her and in doing so brushed Mary’s hand.
A twinge of heat spread out from Mary’s stomach.
She fantasized about taking Valerie on a picnic to an open green space with a blanket. She’d bake her grandmother’s famous apple pie. They’d joke about how Mary was trying to fatten her up and Mary would compliment her perfect thick, hourglass figure.
Summers in Los Angeles weren’t sticky, but just as hot if not hotter. Fortunately, the diner she worked in was on the shady side of Spring Street. The pale concrete government buildings imposed dark shadows upon the asphalt.
The tiny diner was peppered with a few regulars, not busy for a Tuesday, but it wasn’t lunch time yet either.
Mary rubbed her back through her periwinkle uniform as she wiped the worn countertop with a rag. As she stretched her neck and head, with its loosely bundled ginger hair, she inhaled a waft of coffee and griddle food.
Her half-closed, green eyes filled with light that bounced from the shades worn by the woman who walked through the door. The tan fabric of her high-waisted skirt and pale-rose colored chemise complemented and contrasted against her dark chestnut skin. In the sunlight, she radiated like an angel, making Mary’s freckled cheeks flush a scarlet red.
She’d seen Valerie, the lawyer, often. The prim and proper counselor was much kinder than she looked. On a few occasions, they had chatted at length about scripts Mary had submitted; and though Valerie specialized in criminal law, she offered to look over any contracts Mary might be offered.
It both excited and made Mary uneasy to think that she’d lived in L.A. for over three years and hadn’t sold a single story. She feared she may be doomed to die working at the diner.
“Hola, Mari,” Valerie smiled as she approached the counter.
“Hello, Valerie,” Mary greeted her, shyly pushing her black rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Valerie made her way to her usual booth and proceeded to plop her Michael Kors bag on the seat.
“I think I’ll get the Pig n’ a Poke today. I’ve been good all weekend,” she smiled up at Mary as she removed her sunglasses and pulled some legal files from her bag.
“Sure thing,” Mary smiled, scribbled a note and handed it to Tony, the cook.
“Here you go.” Mary sought an open spot for a coffee mug on what quickly became Valerie’s desk.
Valerie reached out and took it from her and in doing so brushed Mary’s hand.
A twinge of heat spread out from Mary’s stomach.
She fantasized about taking Valerie on a picnic to an open green space with a blanket. She’d bake her grandmother’s famous apple pie. They’d joke about how Mary was trying to fatten her up and Mary would compliment her perfect thick, hourglass figure.
Valerie
would find an excuse to bring Mary close and gently place her smooth lips on
hers because Mary would be too petrified to initiate anything.
“Mari,” she could faintly hear Valerie saying, “You OK?”
Shaking out of her daydream, Mary smiled at her through the painful realization that her illusion would never become a reality.
“Yes…yeah,” Mary laughed nervously.
Valerie smiled up at her as she shook her head a bit, “How’ve you been? Written any good movies lately?”
There it is again, she thought, that feeling of failure.
“Actually,” Mary hesitated, “…I have. It’s more of a passion project, but I’ll be wrapping it up soon.”
“It’s occurred to me, I’ve never read any of your work. If you don’t mind, I’d like to read it,” Valerie offered before taking a sip of coffee.
“Wow, really? Yeah. Sure. Please, I would love that. I could always use feedback,” Mary replied.
“Of course,” Valerie smiled and placed her hand, with its freshly manicured nails, over Mary’s, with its short, clean nails, “Maybe after I read it, we can get a cup of tea and chat about it.”
Mary was sure she was red as a beet.
“That would be lovely,” Mary Anne smiled as they locked eyes.
“Order up!” Tony shouted causing the women to break their stare.
“I’ll bring you your order,” Mary gently pulled away and grinned like a hopeful idiot.
If that’s not motivation to write, then I don’t know what is, she thought.
“Mari,” she could faintly hear Valerie saying, “You OK?”
Shaking out of her daydream, Mary smiled at her through the painful realization that her illusion would never become a reality.
“Yes…yeah,” Mary laughed nervously.
Valerie smiled up at her as she shook her head a bit, “How’ve you been? Written any good movies lately?”
There it is again, she thought, that feeling of failure.
“Actually,” Mary hesitated, “…I have. It’s more of a passion project, but I’ll be wrapping it up soon.”
“It’s occurred to me, I’ve never read any of your work. If you don’t mind, I’d like to read it,” Valerie offered before taking a sip of coffee.
“Wow, really? Yeah. Sure. Please, I would love that. I could always use feedback,” Mary replied.
“Of course,” Valerie smiled and placed her hand, with its freshly manicured nails, over Mary’s, with its short, clean nails, “Maybe after I read it, we can get a cup of tea and chat about it.”
Mary was sure she was red as a beet.
“That would be lovely,” Mary Anne smiled as they locked eyes.
“Order up!” Tony shouted causing the women to break their stare.
“I’ll bring you your order,” Mary gently pulled away and grinned like a hopeful idiot.
If that’s not motivation to write, then I don’t know what is, she thought.
Jennie Campbell is a Latin-American
author residing in the Los Angeles, CA region, who identifies as bisexual and
seeks to increase the visibility of LGBTQ and ethnic minority characters
through her writing.
This story has previously
been published on jenniecblogs.wordpress.com and thetsuruokafiles.wordpress.com
No comments:
Post a Comment