This week we have a biker, a stranger with no name, finding what he has been searching for.
There is no Here
There was no rhythm to his appearances. But whenever his hog rumbled into the parking lot of Sadie’s Diner, Sadie let their hair down, touched up her makeup, and put on her best smile. This day, she even reached up and opened another button of her blouse.
Heads turned as he sauntered through the door. The regulars, mostly male, rolled their eyes and went back to their breakfasts. Everyone else, encountering his craggy features and wavy raven’s hair for the first time, stared as he swung his jeans-clad leg over the counter stool. Everyone, that is, except the well-dressed woman sitting two stools away.
Sadie hustled over.
“’Mornin’, Dear. You havin’ the usual today?”
She poured coffee into a chipped mug. She made it her business to know and remember everyone’s “usual.” The Stranger, known only by that nickname, nodded. Still smiling, Sadie turned to put in his order.
He raised the mug and muttered, “I’ve been looking for you.”
Without turning her head, the well-dressed woman responded, “Now what?”
“We have to go back. You know that.” He took another sip.
A small frown crossed her pursed lips. “Maybe you know that, but I don’t. I like it here.”
The Stranger finally turned to face her, his voice low, but strained. “Jenny, there is no here. The real here is where we live with Sarah and Michael. Remember? Our kids?”
He laid his open hand on the empty stool. She turned her head to look at it. Remembrance blazed in her eyes and she intertwined her fingers with his.
The simulation morphed a bit to cover their disappearance as Sadie returned with a plate full of food. She shrugged and dropped it into the garbage as a regular said, “Button that blouse, Girlie. You look like a ‘ho’.”