Wishes

“Hurry along, you awkward dimwit,” Jane said with her constant unforgiving tone. “Ild like to get over to the grill ASAP, Byron. You know today is Wednesday.”

Byron looked at her with curious undertones. “What exactly does Wednesday have to do with it? We eat at Jasper’s grill every day, geez!” 

Jane answered in an almost friendly tone, “They have French Dip sandwiches, you backward behemoth. It's my favorite! So hurry up, you fatso, let's go!”

Then Jane watched her coworker put his jacket on as her demeanor changed. He had one arm in the right sleeve but started spinning in circles. Jane became infuriated with Byron when he began laughing at himself and then snorting. 

“You are just too much! How old are you anyway?” Jane scowled meanly. “I wish I had a bright, handsome man to have lunch with. I mean, really. Look at you in the wrinkled white shirt and those khakis. How many days in a row have you worn them?” Then, answering her question, “A hundred is a good guess.”

Even with all Janes's jabs, the forever effervescent fellow followed his lady friend with a big smile.

Halfway down the long hallway that led away from the cubicle hell of the Birmingham Insurance Company of Colorado’s accounting department, Byron stopped with his hands on his thin hips just below his pot belly. “Jane, you really should be careful what you wish for. I am a pretty good friend to you. I go along with all your insults because I know you're just kidding. I’m the only one willing to sit with you at lunch, right?”

Jane rolled her eyes, not accepting that she was Byron’s only human friend and he was hers. At 46 years old, never married bachelor, Byron always counted his cat, Crispy, as a friend. His little fur ball, as he called the cat, awaited him at the one-bedroom apartment he called home. 

Without change, every Monday through Friday, right at 11:10 am, they hurried to occupy the first booth to the left of the hostess station at Jasper’s Grill in Montrose, Colorado. The pair, who were not a couple, sat again facing each other in the same grease-stained booth they set in most days, looking at their menus. Every day was the same. Monday’s special: pork chops. Tuesday: a grilled chicken breast, Wednesday a French Dip with a u jus. and so on. But on this fateful Wednesday, the menu had changed. 

“Get over her, Lucy!” Jane snapped her chubby middle-aged fingers at the waitress, whose name was Betty. “What the hell? I had my heart set on a French Dip! You morons changed the menu; why? Tell me why right now, Lucy!” 

“First of all, my name is Betty," the waitress said patiently, pointing to her nametag. “And I've only waited on you two, what…a hundred times?” Betty took on a serious voice and said, “Look, I don't have anything to do with the menu selection. Today's special is a ham-on-rye sandwich with chips. Can I fix you up one of those?”

“No damn it, I want a French Dip,” Jane said with bitterness. 

“ Yes, ma’am, let me ask the boss and see if he can put one together for you. To warn you, he will probably charge the total menu price or turn you down completely.” She walked toward the kitchen quickly, her apron strings bouncing on her rounded bottom. 

Byron tried to begin a conversation with a bit of pleasantry. “I sure like Betty, don't you, Jane?” 

“Yeah, I bet you do,” Jane replied with crossed arms and a scowl, then continued, “You know, I'm just sick of this place and you, Byron. I wish you would change into someone I wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen with.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Jane," Byron said, snorting cola out of his nose in his usual juvenile fashion. Jane stared at Byron, giving him a just friend's look mixed with embarrassment and disgust.

Like every day for what seemed like an eternity, Byron would always begin by cautioning Jane, "Be careful what you wish for." This statement continued the entire following scenario of Betty, the Waitress, who was chewing on what seemed to be the same piece of stale gum while asking what drinks the two of them would like. 

But today, she didn't ask about drinks at all. Instead, she chirped excitedly, “Guess what, you two? Jasper said that because you two love birds are great repeat customers, he had no idea the French Dip was that important. He will give you freebies today! Drinks and chow on the house!”

Byron was delighted and promptly said, “Thank you,” most sincerely. 

While Jane protested again, this time acting most ungrateful, “We are not love birds!" 

Byron giggled and blew his nose on the freshly placed paper napkin, somewhat wishing they were.

"We are coworkers, and that's all, plain and simple!" Jane said, trying to clear her throat. For some reason, unbeknownst to her, the incredible speaking voice she prided herself on was a couple of octaves higher and had become unsure. "See, we both have a name tag!" she squeaked, pointing to where she usually wore her name tag. “Well, at least I thought I did,” she mumbled.

The funny thing was, however, suddenly, she couldn't remember where they worked or something as insignificant as how exactly they got here. Seeking a comfortable response from her friend, she said, “Things are getting weird, Byron!”

Feeling perplexed, she started digging through her big brown purse, which was now perky and pink. “This is not my bag.” Jane looked up at Byron, who wasn't seated across from her. She noticed his seat cushions had not molded into the shape of a human buttocks like hers had. It looked like no one had been sitting across her for a while.

“What the hell is going on?” she said out loud. She opened the bag, grabbed the compact mirror and lipstick, then screamed after applying the makeup. The person in the mirror was not her. 

First, she noticed her crow's feet and scowl lines had disappeared from her face. Her mouse brown hair was now a stunning red. She looked down to see she wasn't wearing flats but heels. Now, sitting in that booth, she looked so small. She yelled out loud. “Oh my God, I’m young and skinny!” catching the attention of everyone around her. 

“Hello, Miss.” Jane looked up to see a handsome young man standing over her. Her eyes met his in the awkward silence. “I am so sorry if I startled you, but I think I know you. Maybe from Boulder? I just received my Masters last year.” 

Jane was speechless as a college-aged man asked a 55-year-old who had never married because no one ever found her attractive enough to ask. “I’m Jane Harwood. And what is your name?” she questioned while trying to stand with the restraint of the booth stopping her. 

“Lewis Phillips, my friends call me Lew. Man, I sure do feel like I know you. Maybe I only wish I could know a beauty like you.”

“You better be careful what you wish for, buddy; I mean Lew. The ending of my Cinderella story might not be what you wished for! Come on now, is this a joke? Did my friend Byron put you up to this? I think he slipped me a Mickey while he was doing it!” Jane tried to stand up but noticed she had begun to grow. She grew wide so fast she knocked everything off the table and frightened the young man away. 

As Jane sat back down, she was almost happy to see good old Byron walking towards her but noticed he looked different. His greesy hair was clean and well groomed. His teeth were white. Those ridiculous glasses fixed with a paperclip were now chic blue frames that matched his blue eyes. His clothes looked brand new. He wore tidy black slacks with a black leather belt around his trim waistline. His white button-down dress shirt was crisp and clean. “Goodness, Byron, what did you do; take me seriously? You look fantastic, like a changed man. Look at us; we look like a beautiful pair. The pair I have always wanted to be part of!” 

“What the hell are you talking about, Jane? I'm at least 20 years younger than you, and I have a crush on the beautiful redhead living above Crispy and me in my apartment building. You know that. Are you alright? I've been telling you for a while now you better drop some of that belly flab, or you're going drop dead from a heart attack.” Jane looked at Byron, terrified, and then looked in her compact mirror. 

The image made her scream! “Oh my God, What happened to my beauty? Oh, my God, I'm old and fat again. Fatter than my teenage days spent in desperate isolation.”

Byron cut into Jane’s regrettable excitement by saying rudely, “Well, that's pretty easy to see. You are as big as a whale. Disgusting as you are, you are turning my stomach.” 

Jane shrieked, “Why I should punch you in the nose.”

“Go ahead and try it! I'm just giving you a little dose of your own medicine, you insufferable bitch.” Byron responded without hesitation. “Maybe you should have heeded my advice and thought better about what you wished. I mean, look at me. I was wishing, too. The only difference was you were wishing I was a different person and that everything could be different. Yet, talking about opposites throughout every single moment of our relationship, my brain was thinking: I wish we could stay here forever."

Jane's mouth dropped open, as it was the first time she couldn't think of a rebuttal. 

Byron continued, “With every dig and insult you handed me over the past ten years; I wished stuff would happen to you. Jane, the worst things in life are not being awkward, ugly, fat, or stupid. The worst thing is being like you, riddled with so many insecurities, and feeling the need to belittle others. That's the worst way to be. At one point in my life, I wanted you but was unable to have you because you disqualified me. Now, I will be losing you as a friend, which hurts like hell, but in the end, I am finding the version of myself I need to be.” 

With that said the new Byron turned his back on the unrecognizable woman seated at the booth, who would now be nothing more than a prisoner in a cubicle cell next to his. No more lunch dates, and he was relieved.