Page 14 of Missing Moon
From what I remember of him, he was a really decent guy. Used to let me eat for free once he found out how poor I was. He expected honest work out of me, but he was definitely willing to help if he could. The idea he might be dead gut punches me almost harder than the news my actual father is on death’s door.
How messed up is that?
About as messed up as a summer job boss caring more about me than my own father, I suppose. Or at least acting like he cared. For all I know, Daddidcare about us, simply couldn’t show it well.
I talk with Tanya for a while more. Apparently, Gwen is now the owner of the diner. She runs the register in the morning and goes home around three or so in the afternoon. They hired a guy named Edwin as a cook. Also, Tanya tells me the rumors are true. Edwin is an ex-con who killed a guy. However, the man he killed was trying to abduct his daughter through her bedroom window at night. What turned it into a prison stay for Edwin wasn’t defending his daughter as much as it was that he chased the guy for half a mile and beat him to death in the street. It went from defense to vigilantism. Judges don’t really like that.
Still, even though he killed a guy, no one in town really holds it against him. There’s even a running joke here that he cooks a ‘killer omelet.’
Who am I to judge? I broke a guy’s neck less than a week ago for trying to murder a teenage girl. Granted, he was literally in the process of stabbing down at her when I kicked him.And… I wasn’ttryingto kill him. Sometimes I forget my own strength, especially when my emotions are high.
Our food arrives. One of the waiters helps Avril out by carrying the big tray. She takes everything plate by plate and puts it in front of whoever ordered it. Paxton’s ‘vegetarian lasagna’ looks… somewhat reasonable. At least Edwin the killer cook took it out of the aluminum tin, so it’s not obviously a frozen entrée that’s been microwaved.
“All good? Does anyone need anything else?” asks Avril before looking at the boy. “Thanks, Jim.”
The waiter nods at her and hurries off with the empty tray.
“Ketchup, please,” says Ant.
Avril does the same thing I used to do while working here. She spins around and swipes the ketchup bottle from an empty table in the next row and puts it on our table.
Ant grabs it, smiling. “Thanks.”
We all end up staring at Paxton as Avril walks away.
“What?” she asks.
“We’re waiting to see if it’s edible,” I whisper.
“Whatever was done to that eggplant is a crime in Italy.” Anthony shakes his head.
Paxton sighs. “You can’t say that without tasting it.”
“I can smell it.” He dumps ketchup on his fries.
Yeah, my son is a food snob. At least as far as anything with Italian tomato sauce is concerned.
“Ant.” Tammy leans toward him. “We are in the middle of nowhere at a diner. That they evenhadvegetarian lasagna is a miracle.”
“Miracle is not exactly the word I’d use for that.” Anthony winks.
“Well, taste it.” Tammy pokes Paxton.
Kiddo makes a show of slicing off her first forkful.
Her facial expression upon eating it says ‘passable.’
We eat. All of us pick at the giant battered onion in the middle of the table.
They say ‘you can’t go home again’ and I suppose they’re right. To a point, anyway. Everything about this place feels the same—except for the people. Downtown hits me like we’ve crossed into an alternate reality.
Yeah, my life is weird.
Chapter Four
That Weird Stuff
The closer I get to the place I spent my childhood, the more familiar the surroundings become.