Dandelion

He restlessly mashed his french fries into the pool of ketchup on the corner of his plate, eating one, after another, after another, until the waitress came over and interrupted.

"Refill?" She stood over him with a pot of coffee, smiling.

He stared down at his plate, and nodded. No eye contact. Don't make eye contact. 

"Thank-," before he could get the words out, he looked up and she was already on to the next group of diners.

He glanced out of the window next to him, past the neon green CASH ONLY sign. It overlooked the parking lot, where he could see his beat-up, 1996 Pontiac Grand Am sitting there. Candy apple red (originally). Now, it was like it was rotting, chipped and rusted away by years on the road. Bought off of Craigslist for a small chunk of change. He learned about cars and repairs just so he could keep it moving, since he didn’t make much money. It had become part of him. Part of his story - even if it was unwritten.

The old cat clock on the wall next to the kitchen door taunted him, its bulging green eyes staring as its tail swung back and forth, clicking with each motion.

The woman sitting at the bar incessantly stirred her tea, the string from the tea bag getting twisted around the spoon. Was she looking at him out of the corner of her eye?

The bus boy's mop slid and sloshed against the linoleum behind him, as he restlessly tore at the corner of the place setting and read the listings.

GREG'S GARAGE

Oil Changes $24.97

We buy and sell used cars!

HOPEWELL REHABILITATION

Struggling with drug addiction?

There is hope, at Hopewell. 

OUR TOWN DENTISTRY

Dr. Bernard Milton

We care about your teeth!

How many people have called up Dr. Bernard and made an appointment for a cleaning after sucking down their vanilla shakes with extra whipped cream?

He scanned the booths and the bar stools. Past 1:00am in a place like this, you’ll always see the same characters. The truck driver eating his first real meal of the day - probably the meatloaf. The drunken twenty-somethings looking for a greasy fix. The couple on the spontaneous road trip they’d been planning for months, fueling up for another six hours on the road. The displaced loner with insomnia and a cigarette problem. 

Well, that last one was him. Eddie. Eddie was never much for forming attachments or making a name for himself. He preferred to stay unnoticed. Unremarkable. 

Eddie’s remaining fries were cold. The ketchup congealed and was beginning to harden. The coffee refill from the waitress, untouched. ‘Walkin’ After Midnight’ by Patsy Cline played softly in the background. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw it. Someone left their scarf on the stool at the very end of the bar, closest to the window. Periwinkle blue, with dandelions layered and sewn into the fabric. He stared at the scarf in disbelief. His mouth, agape - and the world around him froze. The cat clock stopped clicking. The chatter from the diners, silenced. Patsy wasn’t singing anymore. All he could think about, all he could focus on, was that scarf. 

“Daddy - you coming home now?” The words echoed in his head, just like it was happening all over again. He remembered holding the phone in his hand, the metal line clinking with the glass in the phone booth. It was raining that night - pouring. And it was past her bedtime. He knew that. But he had to hear her voice. 

“Soon, baby.”

“I love you, Daddy. I wished on the dandelion today that you come home.”

She was always picking those things out of the ground and making wishes.  Eddie taught her that. A new doll. Ice cream for dinner. And he’d make those wishes come true. But not this wish.

Those were the last words she ever said to him. 

Eddie was consumed by his addiction, but still lucid enough to know she’d be better off without him than with him the way he was - or at least that’s what he thought. So he left. 

I’ll stop. I’ll be back in a few months and she won’t know the difference. 

But months turned to years, and after the second year, he was so ashamed of himself that he went deeper into his drug use, deeper into his self-loathing. Year after year faded away, along with any hope he ever had of recovery. So he stayed away, watching her from a distance. He saw her get on the bus for her first day of 3rd grade. He watched her trick or treat, dressed up as Spongebob Squarepants. He was there when she headed off to prom in a big white limousine. 

“I wished on the dandelion today that you come home.”

The bell as the entry door opened snapped him out of his memories - back to reality - to why he was here in the first place. 

He could see the waitress on her way to his booth, clutching the coffee pot - hadn’t seen her in what felt like an hour. “You all done, sugar?” 

He nodded. No eye contact. 

As she reached for his plate, he motioned for her to come in closer. She apprehensively bent her head toward him and he whispered nervously through gritted teeth, “I have a gun in my pocket. You’re going to walk me over to the register like I’m payin’ my check and give me all the cash in a bag. Don’t you go makin’ a scene or I’ll shoot.”

Her eyes widened, the color running from her face. She stood up straight, and nodded in fear, staring at the man’s hand in his left jacket pocket. He got up, and followed her to the register. 

Standing there, face to face with the woman who offered him coffee and kindness, a rush of remorse washed over him - but there was no going back. 

He watched her as she packed each set of bills into a brown paper to-go bag. Ones. Fives. Tens. Twenties. Fifties. Her eyes shifted up and down, between the register and his sunken face, beads of sweat starting to form on her forehead. He took a quick look around - the few people that were there were all too consumed with their own conversations, their own lives, to notice anything was happening. 

The click of the register closing jolted him back. “Here you are, sir,” her voice shook as she handed him the bag. “You have a nice night now.” 

He grabbed it, and finally, locked eyes with her. He saw her fearfully  begging with one look - please don’t shoot. 

He looked back at her. Please don’t be afraid. 

Eddie backed away and pushed open the door into the entry vestibule, still watching her. 

He booked it out of there and made his way to his car, tossing the bag in the passenger seat. He quickly started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot toward the highway. 

As he drove, Eddie thought of his daughter. His only reason for living. Over the years while he watched her big life moments from afar, he also saw her get pregnant the summer after her graduation. He watched her give up her dreams of going to college to have and raise the baby. He watched her mother, his ex, disown her and leave her to fend for herself. He watched her care for her daughter so heroically and unflinchingly, in a way he wasn’t able to all those years ago. 

This money, sitting in a brown paper bag in the passenger seat of his Pontiac, beside empty packs of Marlboro Reds and discarded dime bags, would help her pay for food and clothes. He hoped it would let her spend more time with her daughter and less at her waitressing job - at least for a little while. He watched her from afar for so long, like a coward, but now, he was finally able to do something. And by the time they found him, the bag would be safe on her back porch with a note taped to the front. 

I hope you teach her about the magic of dandelions.