anatomy of a fairy tale (part 1)

Jan was awake at 7am, despite the wild night before, which wound down around 4am and only with her hoarsely shouted threat to call the cops. Call the cops, she thought as she drew a robe about herself and looked in the mirror, what a joke. She saw, by the morning’s thin grey light, what she preferred to forget; the years were marching on. She looked more and more like her mother did in her later years, with broken down eyes which saw through to the end of things, and a mouth which seemed determined to frown. She patted her hair into place, and then turned aside, thrusting her own image out of her mind as she strode to the door. By the time she reached the stair, she again saw herself as the woman she had to be in order to get on with things.

She made coffee, but decided not to call the girls just yet. It was Monday morning, and most of the patrons had doubtless slunk off to their wives, or their jobs. The girls had had a rough night, and deserved to sleep in a while. Jan slid onto a barstool with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. As she raised the cup to her lips, her eyes rose to the front door, and she was startled to see a man standing perfectly still on the pavement outside. He was tall, but stooped slightly. He had a full head of hair, but his face was a roadmap of leathery wrinkles. His simple attire of a black shirt and pants made him look vaguely priest-like, while his beard made him look Amish.

“Jesus, Tom,” she muttered as she slid off the stool and headed to unlock the door. “Jesus, Tom,” she repeated, as she had rehearsed, “what are you doing here?” She felt awkward, for her tone was scolding although she hadn’t meant to sound so.

Tom stood still a moment longer, gazing at Jan, and then looked up at the garish sign suspended on the front of the building before him. The expression on his craggy face was unreadable and yet she understood it perfectly. Suddenly she saw herself in the mirror again, and her eyes grew hot and bleary. She turned her back on him and said, “I’ll get you some coffee.”

Tom walked through the doorway and paused again, looking around him. The sun had begun to show, and it struck rays through the dust and lingering smoke, illuminating a cluttered landscape of unbussed tables and abandoned poker cards. Jan set another cup of coffee down on the counter next to her seat, and then walked around and sat down. She stared forward, not looking at Tom as he stood by the door. She became acutely aware of the stink of stale cigarettes.

Tom finally sat down beside her. He was looking at her, she knew, but she chose not to acknowledge him. She reached into the pocket of her robe for her cigarettes. She lit one, with feigned nonchalance, took a long pull, and then turned to look at him. He was looking down at his coffee now, with both hands wrapped around the cup, his shoulders hunched in the posture of one long accustomed to taking meals at a bar.

“So, little brother,” she said, regarding him through narrowed eyes, “are you in some kind of trouble or what?”

Tom stared down at the coffee in silence for a long time. Finally he began to nod his head. “I’ll have a couple of eggs over easy with bacon,” he said looking upward as if to regard an angelic waitress who wasn’t there, “a side of grits. Whole wheat toast with honey.”

Jan turned in her barstool to face forward again, her ears burning. She breathed quickly and loudly through her nose a couple of times, pressing her lips together and stubbing out her new cigarette in the half full ashtray next to her. “Tom, you know we don’t do–”

“Two eggs,” Tom repeated without altering his tone, and still looking upward, “Bacon. Grits. Whole wheat toast with honey.”

Jan just stared at him. Finally she shook her head slightly, a look of disbelief on her face. “Sammy’s would be open by now. Go get some breakfast there.”

Tom finally dropped his head, and stared down for several seconds like a grade school boy doing arithmetic in his head. Then he looked sidewise over at Jan with a strange, quiet look, and said, “Jan, get me my breakfast.”

Jan locked eyes with him for an angry eternity, and then she sighed and shrugged. She slid off her barstool and patted him on the back as she headed back around the counter. “Come in here, orderin’ eggs over easy in a place like this. You’re a brave man, Tom.”