Two Owls

Two Owls

by Sam Ford

It’s a little before midnight. I squeeze out the mop, put it in the bucket, wheel it into the supply closet. The last thing on the list. I wrapped and put away all the meats, veggies, sauces, dressings, etc. I cleaned off and wiped down the countertops. I cleaned the bread ovens, tossed the stale loaves, turned the ovens off. I counted out the register, left the cash drop in my manager’s office. I restocked napkins, straws, cups, lids. I restocked the cooler. Took a small inventory. Left a note for my manager telling him we were out of Nestea.

I go into the office and take off the polo shirt I have to wear for a uniform. It’s all washed out and faded. I’ve got four of them but I like this one the most for some reason. I think it’s the first one they gave me. That was almost two years ago.

I get a text message from Danny telling me to meet him at the Route 1 Diner. I thought we were gonna’ go out to The Bullhorn and tie one on, but I guess Danny’s got other plans. I’m actually pretty bushed myself and could use a cup of coffee before we tear it down, so I figure the diner’s not a bad idea. I text him back that I’ll meet him there in fifteen minutes.

I turn off all the lights, leave the place, find my keys, lock the front door. It’s fuckin’ freezing outside. I get out a cigarette and realize I don’t have my Zippo. I tend to leave it at home. It was a gift from my ex-girlfriend. I wonder if that’s why I keep forgetting to bring it.

I get in my car. It’s an ‘01 Chevy Impala that I could barely afford when I got it but somehow managed to pay off in time. It’s fast as hell. It’s what the highway patrol uses when they’re not driving Crown Vics. I had a pretty decent sound system put in it. Good woofers, a cool console.

I hit the ignition, turn the heat all the way up and wait. I can see my breath dancing in front of me. It must be like ten degrees outside. I push the cigarette lighter down with my thumb. After a moment it pops up. I put it to the tobacco end of my smoke and take a puff. I’ve been smoking cigarettes since I was about thirteen. My mom still smokes. And I remember my dad did when he was around.

I’ve got a six CD changer in the trunk but I don’t feel like listening to music. I check my phone real quick even though I know it hasn’t gone off. I tend to do that. It’s like a nervous tic. I sorta’ hate myself for doing it. To try to justify it, I scroll through all the names, wondering if there’s someone I could call. A girl someone. There’s this girl I met a couple of weeks ago at church. Weird. We saw each other a couple of times. I like her. I dunno. I dunno what’s wrong with me these days.

I put my phone away. My ex-girlfriend once dared me to throw my phone into the lake. I told her she was crazy.

***

The Route 1 Diner is actually off of Highway 22. I guess they call it the Route 1 Diner ‘cause it sounds better than the Highway 22 Diner. I don’t think anybody would care that much.

I pull into the parking lot. Danny’s red Jeep Cherokee is there. I park next to it. He’s got this bumper sticker on it that says, “I eat hippies - They make me shit peacefully.” I don’t know where he got it or really why he got it. Far as I know he doesn’t have anything against hippies.

Danny’s at the counter when I walk inside. The place is open 24 hours. There’re some folks scattered about. A small group of drunk high school kids eating french toast and cheeseburgers and milkshakes. A trucker at the counter, gnawing on a toothpick, reading the local paper. Two waitresses. One of them’s pretty good-looking for an older woman. Red hair. Nice body. Nice smile. I’d figure her for about forty-five or so. She’s been working here a while. I’ve been coming here since I was a little kid and I still don’t know her name. But she knows me. She calls me “sugar.” It always makes me blush.

I sit next to Danny. He’s got an ashtray in front of him that’s already overflowing. His pack of Newports is there too, with a matchbook on top of it. Cup of coffee. Danny’s a pretty handsome kid. We all knew he was, like, sorta’ the pretty boy of the group when we were in high school. Straight dark hair, blue eyes. He used to get a lotta’ girls. In other counties too. Whenever he would go on trips with his folks he would come back and brag about the girls he’d slept with. On this one trip in particular to New York City, Danny returned with the story of a threesome involving to models he met on the street. He had to sneak outta’ the hotel he and his parents were staying in. He said it was the first time he did coke and he and those models were up all night going at it. His parents woke up and when he wasn’t there, they called the police. Big mess, whatever. Danny never traveled with his folks again after that one. A lot of us didn’t believe him when he told the story. To make themselves feel better, a couple of the guys tried to change the story so that the models were actually male models. But I always believed him. Danny later confided in me that he was scared of what happened. “I didn’t use protection, man,” he told me.

Danny’s wearing a Yankees hat cocked to the side. He looks tired under that hat. He stubs out a cigarette, take a sip of his coffee before he even notices me.

“Hey, man,” I say to him.

“Oh shit, hey dude,” he says. He gets up and hugs me. I can feel him shaking a little bit. I wonder if he’s fucked-up on something. He sits back down and I can tell he’s happy I’m here.

“Did you work today?” I ask him.

“Naw, man. I dunno. That job’s bullshit.”

Danny works at the Wilco Travel Center off of exit 54. He’s been working there almost as long as I’ve been working at the Subway. They recently made him a junior manager. He started there working overnights as a stock-boy. They like him there. They joke about his good looks and that he doesn’t belong there with them. I think he agrees with them but stays on because he likes the attention. But then again, what do I know?

“You been sayin’ that for two years,” I tell him.

The waitress comes by. She’s wearing a small gold cross on a necklace. She’s got green eyes.

“Can I get you something, sugar?” she asks me.

“I’ll have some coffee,” I say, my face red as a corvette.

She winks and walks off.

“…And your phone number,” Danny says, halfway under his breath.

“Shut the fuck up,” I say, shoving him.

“That’s just what you need, man,” he says. “A nice nurse-like woman to treat you kind.”

I shake my head and light a cigarette to put an end to the subject.

“Why aren’t we out drinkin’, man?” I ask him.

“We are drinkin’,” he says, raising his cup. “Coffee.”

On cue, the waitress put my cup in front of me.

“Ya’ll let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Yes, ma’am,” Danny says.

He’s grinning a sorta’ devilish grin, but I can tell something’s wrong underneath it.

“So what’s up?” I say. A yawn creeps out. Danny looks at me and kills the yawn with his gaze.

“What the fuck, man?” I say.

“Man…” he says. “Lindsay’s pregnant, dude. She’s fuckin’ pregnant. I’m fucked.”

I don’t say anything at first. And then softly I say, “Oh shit, man…”

Lindsay’s a girl he’s been seeing for about two months. She’s pretty cute. Sorta’ quiet, or at least she is around his friends. I think she works at the Wal-Mart just down the road from the Wilco where Danny works. He walked into Wal-Mart to buy a DVD player and I guess he just charmed her right out of her blue smock. But I’m not sure how serious it is. I’m sure it’s not serious enough to have a baby.

“I’m fucked,” he repeats. “I mean. I guess it’s an abortion. Right? I mean.”

“I guess,” I say. “I mean have you talked to her about it?”

“I mean she just told me tonight, dude,” he says. His voice is starting to get louder.

“Okay, man,” I say. “Well…I mean was she upset? How did she sound?”

“Well she told me on the phone, man. And…I mean…I don’t know how she sounded. Not really like anything. Maybe upset I guess. Shocked or something I guess. But not really. I dunno.”

“Well you should talk to her in person,” I tell him. “I mean obviously. You should talk it out with her face to face. Figure out what you’re gonna’ do together.”

“Yeah but what if she wants to have the kid, man. I can’t afford no kid. Fuckin’ Jesus, man. I mean I can’t afford to have a fuckin’ baby right now. I mean I don’t even…I hardly really even know this girl. Whatever, y’know?”

He lights a cigarette. I drag on mine. It’s like I can feel his heart beating or something. I feel like we’re alone in the diner. People are probably looking at us but I feel like we’re alone. I drink a little coffee.

“How much are abortions?” he says.

“I dunno,” I say. Then I pause for a second and say, “I’ve never had one.”

Danny doesn’t laugh and my smile quickly retreats.

“I’m surprised we’re not out drinking,” I say.

“Whaddayou mean?” Danny says, turning to me.

“I dunno. I mean I just…this just sounds like a drinking type a’ conversation.”

“It’s serious shit, man,” he says. “I don’t wanna’ drink just like some asshole.”

But this isn’t the first time this has happened to Danny. When we were seventeen he got a girl from a rival high school pregnant. We knew her from parties and football games. She was a cool girl. I can’t remember her name now. Something with an A. Abby maybe. Amy. It was sort of a one night drunken thing that Danny swore he didn’t even remember. But two months later, the girl sent him a letter with a copy of the receipt or whatever from the abortion. Attached to it was a note that said: “Don’t worry. I took care of it.” Danny never talked about it to anyone except me. And when he did, he never let on how he felt about it. He tried calling that girl a year or so later but her parents said she’d moved away.

I won’t bring that up now. I think Danny’s done his best to forget about it. As far as he may be concerned, it never happened.

“The rubber broke,” he says. He stubs out his cigarette and pushes his fingers against his forehead. We’re both twenty-four years old.

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened, man?” I ask him.

“’Cause I didn’t wanna’ even think about that it did happen, man,” he says. “I fuckin’…shit, I didn’t even tell her. I shoulda’ though ‘cause then she coulda’ took one a’ those after morning pills. Morning after. Whatever.”

My girlfriend and I only had sex a few times before we broke up. I miss her sometimes. Man, she was strange though.

“I still think you should just sit down and talk it through with her,” I tell him. I light another cigarette. The last one in the pack.

“Yeah, but I mean…There’s nothin’ really to say. I can’t have the kid. I mean I can’t be a father right now.”

“Why not?” I say. I’m not sure why I say it, but I know it’s genuine.

“Why not?” he says. “‘Cause I ain’t got the money. ‘Cause I hardly know this girl. ‘Cause I ain’t ready. I ain’t ready, man. Period.”

The waitress returns with a pot of coffee. She refills our cups.

“Ya’ll doin’ alright?” she asks with that gentle smile.

“Fine,” Danny says.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

She walks off. I watch her. Danny shakes his head.

“She’s gotta’ have an abortion, dude.”

“Well what if she doesn’t want to?” I say.

“Well then fuck me,” he says. “Fuck us both I guess.”

“Well then maybe you get another job or work nights and go to community college or whatever to try to start finding something better. But if she wants to keep the kid, man. You gotta’ try to respect that.”

“Whose fuckin’ side are you on?” Danny asks. He’s pissed now, but he’s also exhausted. Even the coffee’s making him tired. I think he’s just tired of being himself. We all get that way sometimes I think.

“I’m not on anybody’s side, man,” I tell him. And that really is the truth. I’m not on anybody’s side. I wonder if that’s a problem.

“Well if you were on my side you’d be approvin’ the abortion option. ‘Cause that’s what has to happen.”

“I gotta’ take a piss,” I say. Danny scoffs. I get up and head over to the men’s room. I pass by the table full of high schoolers. I overhear a little of their conversation:

“Whatever, dude. In Amsterdam, A – they’ve got the best weed, and B – it’s all completely legal. And if America would just do that shit, we’d all be a lot better off.”

“Yeah, man. Everyone at this table would be a lot better off.”

Laughter.

In the pisser, I think about what it would be like to be a father. I actually think it’d be pretty cool. It’d certainly give you an opportunity to change your life if you were looking for one. Change your focus. Maybe that’s what Danny needs.

I shake my dick dry and flush the stall. I wash my hands and look in the mirror. I need a shave. Surprised my manager didn’t bust me. I wonder if girls are scared off by guys with facial hair. If they don’t wanna’ kiss them. I remember my dad had a big handlebar and my mom would kiss him full on the lips. So I guess it doesn’t matter all the time. The trucker from the counter walks in.

“How’s it goin’?” he says. You can hear the mileage in his voice. He walks over to the stall.

“Okay,” I say. I open the door and walk out of the bathroom.

Danny’s still there when I sit back down. He’s got a new cigarette. There’s some pop song from the late 80’s playing. I can tell it’s aggravating Danny. I’ve always wondered why he didn’t go out to Hollywood to try to be an actor or something. Another friend of ours did. Brian. I think he did an episode of CSI or something. He played a college kid. And I saw him in a commercial not that long ago. For Long John Silvers I think.

“I think maybe you should think about having the kid,” I say to Danny.

“What?” he says.

“Just hear me out. I think maybe it’s not such a bad thing. I know it might be hard with the money and all, but it might be sort of good to put your energy into it. It’d force you to get another job, y’know, a better job. And like I said, maybe go to community college or some sorta’ school thing. Some sorta’ trade school. It might sorta’ be what you need.”

“How do you know what I need?” Danny says.

“I don’t,” I say.

“I know what you need,” Danny says.

“What?” I say.

“To get laid.”

“Maybe,” I say.

“To get laid and get a girl pregnant and have to fuckin’ deal with it.”

“What would you tell me to do?”

“Abortion,” Danny says. He sorta’ smiles to himself. “I ain’t pro-choice, I’m pro-abortion.”

I smile back at him. I’ve known him a long time. When you’ve known someone as long as I’ve known him, it’s impossible to even think of that person changing.

“Well, either way, you’re gonna’ talk to her, right?” I say.

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course, man. Jesus Christ, I ain’t that big a dog. I like her. I mean. Yeah, I like her, y’know? It ain’t...whatever.”

“Do you love her?”

“Love her?” Danny says the words like he’s four years old and being told Santa Claus isn’t real.

“Yeah, man. Or could you love her…down the line?” I like that expression, ‘down the line.’ I like myself for using it just then.

“Maybe,” he says. “Jesus, I don’t wanna’ talk about that shit.”

We laugh then. I think about touching him on the shoulder but I’m worried that’ll stop the laughing. The waitress walks up to us.

“Do ya’ll need anything?”

“What’s your name?” Danny asks. I almost resent him for being the one to ask her, but of course only he would.

“My name’s Kathy Ann,” she says.

I’m looking in her eyes.

“That’s a nice name,” I tell her. I’ve got butterflies in my stomach for some reason.

She turns to me.

“Thanks,” she says. She‘s looking in my eyes. “What’s your name?”















NYC, NY (3/14/08)