Another Day

Nothing is more comforting than a warm bath at six in the morning; unless, of course, the water is only lukewarm and tastes like pond water.

I lay my head back in the tub to wet my hair and close my eyes.

Another day, another dollar.

The open window directly above me sends a cool draft whooshing into the bathroom. I shiver and sit up to pull the plug. Wrapping a towel around me I head back to my bedroom. I pull on my skirt and stockings and step into my shoes, all part of my waitress uniform. My raincoat lies limply on a chair, and I snag it on the way out, dipping my hands into the pockets.

It's drizzly out, perfect weather to stay locked inside with a good book and a new record.

The London sidewalk isn't very crowded so I stroll leisurely down the street to work, taking my time and soaking in the familiar sights. As I enter the diner, the door bell rings and Linda pokes her head out from the kitchen.

"Hey Donna!"

I shed my coat and retreat to the back. "Mornin' Linda." She sits on a stool by the stove and offers me a cup of coffee. I take it, the warm cup comforting against the cool room.

"James isn't here yet?" I asked. Linda shook her head. "You know he's always late."

We drank our coffee in sleepy silence. I check the clock and yawn, fighting back early morning grogginess.

"You just got here you can't be tired yet." Linda said, smirking beneath her dark bangs.

"I'm just tired."

She raised her eyebrows and threw back the last few drops, reaching for the pot again. "Up late last night?" she asked. I nodded and couldn't help but break out into a grin. "Yeah, Danny called. He said he'd be back in England in a couple days."

I set my cup down and reached for a rag to start wiping down tables. Linda followed me out of the kitchen with window cleaner in hand.

"You two still seeing each other?" she asked casually. I frowned, finishing a booth and moving on to another.

"Well, yeah."

Linda doused one of the two windows with cleaner and hurried to wipe it up before it hit the floor. "He's gone an awful lot."

"I know." I said with a little too much snap to it.

She glanced at me worriedly, but said nothing.

At that moment James burst in, with too much bubbly energy for the early morning hour. "Alright you birds lets get the show on the road!" He screeched.

James' Aunt and Uncle have owned this place for twenty years. He's been working here since he was sixteen and is hoping to one day own the diner himself, instead of just working in the back.

At seven the breakfast crowd started to roll in. Lately, business has been kind of slow, but not so much it's been too terribly damaging.

Linda and I busy ourselves serving while James cooks and blared music from the back. On several occasions we yell at him to turn it down, but no one really seems to mind. It adds some character to the place.

A little after noon Ruth shows up to take James' place at the stove.

"Afternoon Aunt Ruth!" James smiles with his hands in the sink. She smiles and gently pushes him aside.

"You go home James, your Uncle Herb needs help with his truck." she said kindly.

He pecked her on the cheek and threw a hasty good bye to me as he scampered out the door.

Ruth mumbled from the sink. "Twenty-Four years old and still not a day past twelve."

I smiled. Linda, with her hands full, threw her hip into the door to open it and told me table five needed a refill.

I jumped reluctantly to my feet and rinsed my hands in the sink.

The diner was actually a little busier than normal. Ruth had turned down the music so it wasn't so loud and conversation had picked up to a noisy level.

"Tea?" I asked the man sitting alone at table five. He looked up at me and nodded wordlessly. Reaching for his cup I glanced at his face, and then instantly froze, my gaze locked on his.

He looked exactly like George Harrison.

Trying to cover my shock, I snatched the cup and hurried to the back with shaking hands. Safely in the kitchen I leaned against the counter and tried to keep my knees from wobbling. I couldn't look up from the cup in my hand.

I may be holding the DNA of George Harrison.

Flustered, I had to refill the cup four times after spilling it repeatedly. Carefully, I carried it out to George-look-a-like, my heart pounding like mad. He smiled at me with crooked teeth and took a sip.

"Thank you" he said, in a thick Liverpudlian accent.

I hesitated, not sure what to do, wanting to stay and google over him some more. "Is there anything else I can get you?" I squeaked. He shook his head and took out today's paper from his coat pocket, dismissing me.

I stumbled away in a daze. While I waited on other tables I couldn't keep my eyes off him, part of me searching for any sign that might prove his identity as the Beatles' lead guitarist, the other just admiring him. He only sat quietly, reading his paper and drinking his tea.

What was I expecting? Him to whip out his guitar and give a concert right here?

Maybe.

A few people glanced at him occasionally, but since most of the customers were middle-aged or older, not much of a fuss would be made over him anyway.

Maybe that's why he came here.

A few minutes after I brought him his third of tea, four young girls waltzed in, laughing and chatting loudly. My gaze immediately shot to George-look-a-like as I handed another woman her sandwich.

He seemed as relaxed as ever, but his eyes were frozen on a spot on the newspaper, unmoving.

In a loud mass, the girls moved into a booth just to the right of him. He stiffened, and tried to turn nonchalantly away from them, trying to look casual. Linda ventured over to take their order. A brown headed one looked up at her with a smile, and her eyes shifted slightly past Linda, landing right on the table next to them. The very table i prayed they wouldn't notice. The laugh that had been in the girl's throat died instantly and her eyes bulged out of her head.

"George!" she screeched.

So i was right, it was him.

The rest of the girls whipped around to see where she was pointing, and gasped. He turned to face them and his eyes grew wide as all four of them screamed together at the top of their lungs. They scrambled frantically out of the booth, fighting tooth and nail to get to their feet. Jumping up, George sent his chair flying and the table jerked, spilling his tea all over the newspaper. The girls screamed again and sent Linda flying to the floor as they struggled to catch him, still grappling over each other to get out of the booth. George spun on his heel and shot out the door, the screaming vortex of hormonal preteens crashing through the diner closely behind him.

The room was shocked into silence, and for a moment no one spoke. No one knew what to say.

An old man by the door that had nearly lost his lunch to the stampede cleared his throat and straightened his hat.

"Don't see that every day, do ya'?" he grumbled.