Of Brushstrokes and Frost

Autumn leaves

Maggie wiped down the diner counter, her movements rhythmic and familiar. The scent of brewing coffee mingled with the sizzle of bacon on the grill, a symphony that echoed the routine of her hometown. The old clock above the door ticked steadily, a metronome to the beat of her thoughts. It had been four years since she left for art school, eager and carrying dreams on her shoulders like a canvas waiting to be painted. Now, a degree in hand, she found herself back in the very spot where she'd spent high school summers slinging burgers and serving pie. Well, some things apparently never changed. However, while the diner still greeted its guests with a slightly crooked advertising sign above its door and the familiar brown-beige seat groups, Maggie felt that she herself had changed. She had been so ecstatic, so full of inspiration and anticipation, when she moved away for university. Being back in her hometown now, she rather felt disillusioned and uncertain. Her studies had allowed her to discover new techniques, had given her so much knowledge about the history of arts. Yet she had the feeling that somewhere along this way she had lost her spirit. Her pictures looked, from an objective point of view, perfect. Too perfect. They lacked soul – yes, to Maggie they seemed hollow, inanimate. Unsure of what to do now with her life, coming back home for the time being had been the best option in her opinion.

"Order up, Maggie!", a gruff voice called from the kitchen, distracting her from her thoughts. Frank Landon, the owner of the diner, wasn’t a man of many smiles and pleasantries. But Maggie knew that behind the tough shell he really had a heart of gold. He still didn’t like it when his guests had to wait.

„On my way, Frank“, Maggie yelled and hurried to the kitchen, washing the cloth and picking up a tray with burgers and milkshakes. Frank nodded at her before resuming to slicing a tomato. As she served the order to a young couple she spotted Melissa entering the diner. As usual, Melissa was in a hurry, her reddish curly hair tousled by the wind. She waved quickly at Maggie before storming off to the staff room, greeting Frank as she passed the kitchen. Maggie smiled, returning to the counter to check whether everything was in order at the end of her shift. Cleaning a few stains on the surface and adjusting a display that had been standing a little too askew for her liking, she stepped back satisfied.

“Hi Maggs”, Melissa said, leaving the staff room while fastening her apron, “Sorry for the wait. Nate was throwing a tantrum. I cut his bread, but he wanted to eat it whole. Silly me.” She gave her a tired smile and Maggie laughed. She really admired Melissa. They knew each other since high school - Mel had always been the most determined and responsible in their group of friends. Excelling at almost all subjects, she had been well on her way to become a physician, when she became pregnant a few weeks before graduation. Ditched by her one-night stand, the father of her child, she had to put her plans on hold for the time being. Now she juggled her job at the diner and raising her 3-year old son Nathan by her own. Maggie couldn’t imagine carrying that much responsibility right now.

“How dare you?”, the blonde waitress chuckled, leaning against the counter. Nate was probably the cutest kid she knew and she liked playing the fun aunt once in a while. But even then she couldn’t imagine having children of my own, at least not right now. Melissa snorted, but her friend saw the humour in her eyes.

“So, anyways. How was you shift? Has anything special happened?” Maggie shrugged, glancing across the room. “Nah, not really. I'd say there were about 30 costumers in total. Pretty calm, but hey, maybe they are just waiting for you?”, she grinned at the redhead. Melissa rolled her eyes, giving her a slight shove. “The coffee maker was broken, but Jules managed to fix it. Oh, and our friend Luke Skywalker was there again.” Melissa laughed, eying the seat near the window where ‘Luke Skywalker’ always sat.

“Sitting on his designated place?” Maggie nodded, her eyes wandering to the same seat Melissa was looking at.

“You bet”, she answered. ‘Luke Skywalker” was their nickname for one of their regular customers. He was at the diner every other day, eating the same burger, sitting on the same place. He was… well, he was weird. Like the typical, socially awkward nerd who spent all his time playing some fantasy roleplay game and watching Star Wars. Hence, the nickname ‘Luke Skywalker’.

“He wasn’t even wearing his ‘Yoda’ shirt today. Bet his mom forced him to wash it, once in a lifetime”, Maggie added, taking off her apron. A tiny voice inside her head chided her for her words. You’re being pretty mean right now for no reason. She shrugged it off. It wasn’t like she hurt the guy by making a joke, right?

Melissa scrunched up her nose. “Ew!”, she commented, yet with a grin.

“Are you done with your little tittle-tattle? I’m not paying you for standing around gossiping!”, Franks irritated voice interrupted them. Maggie laughed, raising her hands in surrender.

“Alright, sorry Frank. I’m heading out. Have a good one!”, she answered apologetically, receiving only grumbling in response. She gave Mel a quick hug before snatching her coat and bag from the staff room. Leaving the diner, Maggie was greeted by breeze of autumn air. It was a welcoming sensation after spending her shift within the scent of deep-frying fat. She stood there for a moment, taking in the colorful trees around her. She had almost forgotten how beautiful her hometown looked in autumn when the leaves were colored and the soft rays of the sun touched the mountains in the distance. She compared the peaceful picture to the city she had lived in during her art studies; the steady buzz, the busy streets lined with clunky tower blocks. Yes, it had been the right decision to return home. While city life had brought so many new experiences and new people, she felt like the last three months back in the place she grew up at had done her good. Maggie snatched a cigarette from her coats pocket, then her lighter. As she walked towards her fathers home she blew a fountain of smoke into the chilly air.

Maggie had been two years old when the terrible accident happened. Her father had always been an active man who was constantly seeking the adrenaline rush. Bungee-jumping, skydiving, climbing – there weren’t many things that Stephen Bennett was afraid of. Perhaps that was why it happened. Maggie didn’t really remember much about it, but she knew the stories told by her family and she knew the pictures. Her father had been skiing with friends. Nobody could really remember why but somewhere he fell. His spine was fractured, as well as one arm and his skull. While his bones healed he had lost the ability to walk. Maggie had constantly asked her grandmother about ‘Daddy’, repeating the word until the old woman didn’t know what to tell the little girl before her. It had been a long time until he could come home again. It had been an even longer time until he had accepted his new predicament.

Maggie had been three years old when her parents divorced. She didn’t remember much of it, only that she stood at the door crying as her mother moved out. This scene would forever be imprinted in her mind, because it was when the relationship between her and her mother began to fracture. Dr Linda Fraser was a brilliant, engaged biologist. She travelled the world, attending several conferences, researching topics that Maggie only remotely understood. Dr Fraser didn’t have time for a family. She didn’t have time for a daughter who wouldn’t talk to her about the genetics of plants but rather the way sunlight made their leaves glow in summer.