“This is uncomfortable,” he says under his breath.
“Welcome to small town diners.”
Rosario arrives with two menus and a coffee pot. She pours without asking, gives Oz a long look, and tilts her head.
“You’re the slime from the jailhouse.”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Pritchett says you ate a hamburger, wrapper and all.”
Oz considers this. “It was very good.”
Rosario’s mouth twitches. She sets the pot down and pulls out her order pad. “Well then, what can I get you, honey?”
He orders water. She doesn’t blink. I order the special. She leaves, and Ozwatches her go with the expression of someone who just experienced a minor miracle.
“She wasn’t afraid,” he says, and we share a smile.
In ten minutes, she returns with our order. We eat. Or I eat, and Oz absorbs a few ice cubes experimentally while the regulars gradually stop pretending not to stare.
By the time I’m scraping the last of my home fries, Old Man Crawford’s younger grandson Bobby has worked up the courage to approach.
“Are you really made of jelly?” He’s maybe twelve. Unsupervised.
“More like water,” Oz says. “With intention.”
Bobby considers this with the seriousness of a scholar. “Can you go under doors?”
“Yes.”
“Do you live in a cave?”
“I used to.”
“Man, that’s so cool!”
He runs off to report his findings to his friends.
Oz’s colors warm by a shade.
Rosario comes back with the coffee pot, topping off my mug. She lingers near the table, glancing at Oz with something closer to curiosity than suspicion now.
“Hey,” I say, before she can move away. “Quick question, if you don’t mind. Does the phrase ‘I’m still here. I never stopped waiting’ mean anything to you?”
Her hand stills on the pot. She frowns, searching through years of memory.
“No,” she says slowly. “Should it?”
“Just something I heard.”
She picks up the pot but doesn’t move on right away. Her eyes stay fixed on some middle distance, her thumb rubbing the handle. Whatever I poked at, she’s still turning it over.
“Yeah, no. Can’t say it does.”
“That’s okay. Thanks, Rosario.”
She nods, drifting toward the counter, still frowning at nothing.
