Keeper

First Date

Warm yellow lights illuminate the small diner from above and delicate dream catchers hang from the walls as decoration. The tables are covered in faded, plaid cloth that's frayed at the edges.

Parish and Noah sit in a corner booth, looking at the laminated, glossy menus. Noah seems happy - his sickly pale face pulled apart with a smile as he peers up at her from behind his menu. She thinks he'd be blushing if he had the blood to spare.

"This is my favourite restaurant, you know?" He pushes up his glasses clumsily with his spindly fingers. Parish hopes that he never wants to hold hands, she may accidentally break them.

"I can see why," a small, dinky diner across the street from a large, gourmet restaurant - he probably relates. Noah simply giggles and reaches a hand across the booth to lay it palm up on the table.

Parish puts her hand on top of it reluctantly and tries to smile demurely. Noah's eyes soften so it must work.

"I really wanted to share this place with you. I have so many good memories here and I hope you can too. It only makes sense really - you fit here, in my favourite place where all my favourite times have been had," his thumb rubs small circles over one of her knuckles.

A waitress comes dressed in a pale white ruffled dress, brown hair in a messy bun and a name-tag saying 'Sandra'.

"You two ready to order?" She has a notepad in one hand and a black ballpoint in the other.

"I'll have the spaghetti bolognese and an apple cider. Parish, what would you like?" Noah's blue eyes latch onto hers.

"I'd like a water and... Steak and kidney pie with mash, please," Parish rattles off the first thing she sees on the menu. She's not entirely sure what she's ordering but steak is nice so it can't be that bad.

"With or without gravy?" The waitress asks.

"With."

The lady nods, takes their menus and walks off to what Parish can only assume is the kitchen. It takes Parish to realise Noah still has her hand cradled in his.

She moves both hands to her lap. "It's quiet in here," she says as though it's a new discovery. In reality, there's been a grand total of three other customers in here since they arrived (all older individual in different stages of greying or for the men, balding).

"Yeah, it's really peaceful, huh?" Noah looks around and in a quieter voice continues, "when I was little, my condition was really bad. Crowds were a struggle for me - my dad told me that my collar used to go off like crazy in busy places - so I was never able to go to the really popular places that other kids got taken too. So, my family and later just me started coming here."

Noah takes a deep breath and his hand reaches up from the circular light of his collar. "This is one of the very few places I get to forget that I'm not like everyone else, that I'm sick."

He leans forward and just gazes at her for a moment. She sees his eyes dart from her blonde hair, to her lips and to her eyes as though trying to commit them all to memory. "You make me feel like that: like I'm normal. And I really like that about you."

The sound of heels click against the ground. The waitress has returned with their tray of food on her arm. She calls out, "Here's your order. I hope you enjoy and if at any point you need anything else; napkins, condiments, a refill... Just give me a yell, okay?" She puts down the tray and points at her name-tag before walking off.