“Shit, sorry. Do you want some soup to go with it, too? I mean, what’s a grilled cheese sandwich without tomato soup, am I right?”
Rubbing his temples, he nods. “Sure, Olly. That sounds good.” I grab a pan and this time, quietly set it on the stove. I take out a can of tomato soup that I saw earlier when I was digging for spices.
Grilled cheese isn’t that hard to make. Unless you’re not paying attention and burn it. I put the soup on the stove, waiting for it to warm up,and grab two pieces of bread, slathering them with butter and sprinkling on the different seasonings I found in the cupboard.
I can feel Jasper’s eyes on me. It’s a feeling I’ve come to know well. At first I thought it was creepy, but now, his eyes on me feel like comfort.
“Was it always a dream of yours to run The Diner?”
It’s interesting he brings that up because I’ve been bouncing around the idea of my own dreams. “Yes and no. I like cooking, but I enjoy baking more. The Diner is a great place with a wonderful atmosphere. My employees are great.”
He rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t really answer my question.” I shrug because I don’t know how to answer.
“Do you ever even take a day off?”
“No, in fact, this is the first day off I’ve taken in three years, besides leaving early on family dinner nights. I work every day, and if I’m not cooking, then I’m doing bookkeeping work.”
“You know… for someone who gives me shit for not slowing down, you’re just as bad.”
“Yes, but I’m not jumping out of a perfectly good airplane,” I say.Oh, that fight was a big one.
“No, you’re not. You’re working yourself to the bone, instead of feeling the rush of life by jumping out of a perfectly good airplane.”
“See, that’s where we differ. You call it a rush. I call it a terrible idea.”
Jasper gets up and goes to the fridge. He still seems unsteady on his feet, but I stay back, hovering—unless he needs me. I take in his slumped shoulders, seeing the weight of what has to be worry resting there. He looks tired and worn out. Even after the sleep he got, I can still see circles under his eyes.
Jasper pulls out a beer. I look at him. “Really? Maybe a beer isn’t the best thing to be drinking right now. How about some water?”
“Water… it’s soooo boring,” he complains, but puts the beer back, anyway.
“I could have gotten that for you. You’re supposed to be lying down.”
“Olly, I have been lying down all day. You know the paramedic only said I should have somebody with me for 24 hours.”
“No, at a minimum, 24 hours. I looked it up.” I know this man didn’t just roll his eyes again. “It’s best to be on the safe side, so I’m just gonna stay one more night.” I concentrate on the grilled cheese sandwiches, flipping them until they’re golden brown.
“Fine,” Jasper says. “Just for one more night.” His mouth ticks up.
I think he’s actually enjoying this.
I’mexhausted.Myfeetand back hurt from standing all day. And the powerful aroma of frying oil clings to my clothes. I could go on and on but I won’t because, again, I’m too fucking tired.
It’s not an awful life. Running a successful diner has its rewards. It’s fulfilling to know that I’m making it on my own. But it always comes at a cost, doesn’t it?
I inherited The Diner—yes, that’s the name—when my grandfather passed. According to him, things back in the day were simpler. A diner was called The Diner and a malt shop, The Malt Shop. Of course, there’s the occasional name added to the beginning, like Joe’s Pizzeria, but my grandfather was a simple man, to the point.
On his deathbed, he told me that when the time was right, a name for The Diner would come to me. So, until I figure out when the right time is, it’s staying as is. I’m not foolish enough to fix something that isn’t broken.
God bless that man and his quirky ways while also having the patience to raise a child who needed things neat and orderly. We were polar opposites, me and my grandfather, but the love that poured out of him was good and pure. He believed in love, laughter, and friendship. Three things I’ve never been good at.
When he passed, a good ten years after my grandmother, my sole focus was making sure his diner lived on. The only reason he held on as long as he did was because of me and Emma, I’m sure of it.
I have employees who depend on me to run a successful restaurant so they can bring home a paycheck and feed their families. Even if The Diner isn’t my dream, there’s still this need to keep the legacy of my grandfather alive.
I pull my small, dented, faded-red SUV into my garage and cut the engine, needing to take a minute to gather my strength and pull my aching body from the vehicle.
All I want to do is go inside, get naked, and sit under the hot spray of the shower, maybe even with a cold beer in my hand.
