A bell announced her arrival at the diner during the first hour of my shift. When she entered, she headed straight for the booth in the corner. The seat with the best view of the room. The best view of me.
The woman’s pale skin and white hair harshly contrast the seat’s bright red upholstery. Even from across the room, her sunken, black eyes are easy to see. The harsh yellow lighting of the diner does not do her any justice. Every wrinkle and crevice is on full display. The shadows under her eyes stand out against her pale, white skin. Her face is gaunt and weathered; her eyes and cheeks are sunken. The passage of time has not been kind to her. At any moment, it looks like she could drop dead right onto the checkered floor of the small diner.
Or maybe she’s already dead and has risen for a quick snack, I chuckle to myself.
A fascinator sits atop her head; black, like the conservative dress she wears. Although the dress isn’t revealing, it does little to hide the collarbones protruding from her frail body. A silver cross glimmers on her neck. She must have come here from a funeral, I think. I feel a touch of sympathy for this strange woman, but its only brief.
I’ve never seen her before. I know, because I would have remembered. It’s hard to forget a woman like her. Unlike anyone I’ve ever encountered before in the year since I’ve lived in New York. It’s rare to find someone who with one look can fill you with a strange sense of dread in their presence.
With a notepad in one hand, I walk over to her with my most forced smile and say, “Hello, welcome to Rosie’s, can I get your order?”
She only stares, her bony fingers rest crossed on top of the white table. I question if she had even heard me at all, so I repeat myself. “Miss? Is there anything you’d like? Our current special is our homemade meatloaf if you’d like to try that.”
Nothing. Not a nod. Not even a shake of her head. Perhaps she’s deaf, I wonder. But even then, she would have told me that by now.
“Well,” I say, growing uncomfortable by the silence. “If you need anything, I’m just a call away.”
She narrows her black eyes at me, looks me up and down, then turns away, shooing me away like I’m an annoying little gnat.
Before making my exit, I pointedly look at the cross lying at her neck and then back at her with one eyebrow raised. Isn’t being kind to one another one of the verses in that dear Bible of yours, you rude bitch? I think. She doesn’t spare me a glance.
I scoff, shake my head, and turn away on my heels. Admittedly, I may have stomped away. Now, I’ve had my fair share of terrible customers with zero manners, but this might take the cake. Those people at least acknowledged my existence. With her, I might as well have been invisible.
Whatever. Not having to serve her food saves me from having to talk to her ever again. So, thanks, I guess.
Some would think that being in New York would make me immune to the unpleasantness of some people. However, I was born and raised in a small town in South Carolina with a population of 500. There, we actually learned manners unlike some of the animals that roam the streets here. I’ve tried to stop letting the ill-mannered people get to me, but sometimes you just can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
Busying myself by washing the dishes, I try to ignore the feeling of eyes staring a hole through me.
Now she wants to look at me, huh?
I feel a presence move to stand beside me. “You’ve been washing that same plate for like 5 minutes.”
Glancing up, I see one of the other waitresses, Kaitlin, staring at me with an amused expression on her face. Well, as amused as it can be. The black eyeliner that coats her green eyes and the matching black lipstick causes her to always look like she is wishing death and destruction upon the entire world, even when she smiles.
Despite her almost terrifying appearance, she’s actually one of the sweetest people I’ve met since moving here for college. If it wasn’t for her taking me under her wings when I first moved here, I don’t know how I would have survived the Big Apple. Luckily, I’ve found an unexpected true friend in this ball of sunshine wrapped in darkness.
“Oh, sorry,” I mutter, gently placing the plate down. Sweat shines on my face as my blonde bangs stick to my forehead. “I’m just distracted…”
“You wanna talk about it, Han?” she says, concerned.
Realizing how grim that sounded, I backtrack, “Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. It’s just…” I sigh. “Do you see that woman behind me sitting in that booth in the back? The old one that looks like a dementor?”
She shifts her eyes behind me, and I hurriedly say, “Don’t look long! It’ll be obvious.”
“I swear, for someone that’s always talking down on New Yorkers, you sure are judgmental of other people,” she jokes.
I glare at her. “Hush it. So, do you see her?”
“Of course, I see her. I’m not blind,” she rolls her eyes. “She’s just sitting there looking around. What about it?”
Confusion crosses my face. “You don’t think that’s weird? Sitting in a diner and doing nothing for hours on end? Not even eating?”
“Not really. My grandma used to just sit in her old rocking chair and look out at the lake from noon until the sun set,” she smiles wistfully at the memory. “Maybe it’s just a thing all old people do.”
Doubt crosses my mind. The blaring of the bell at the front door fills the diner.
“Duty calls. Stop worrying about what she’s doing and just have fun…” she trails off. “Washing dishes, I guess.” Then, she’s hurrying off to greet the family of four.
Maybe I am just paranoid. When I was just a kid, Mama did always say that she was surprised I didn’t have stress wrinkles already from the amount of worrying I did.
Three hours passed, four hours passed, five hours passed, and eventually she had been sitting in that same worn-down booth for almost six hours. Eating nothing, barely moving, but always watching. Watching me.
Every cell in my body was becoming increasingly aware of her. The goosebumps on my arm wouldn’t leave no matter how hard I tried to rub them away. When the loud ding of a bell rang through the air, I couldn’t help but glance over to the booth, hoping that it had been her leaving through that door. But it never was. Instead, her incessant stare remained.
Despite being in New York City, the diner was never brimming with customers. Mostly tourists bothered to come in, and they never tried to stay long. Likely due to the harsh, flickering lights and the booths that are about as enjoyable as sitting on a pile of bricks. It doesn’t exactly scream, “Sit down, get comfortable, and enjoy your meal!” Which is why I wasn’t surprised that none of the customers seemed concerned that one woman was occupying a booth for hours on end. Unfortunate for me. There’s nothing I wanted more at that moment than for someone to kick her out.
I look around the diner until I spot Kaitlin clearing one of her tables. Maybe I can get her to do it. Nudging her with my elbow, I whisper under my breath, “She’s still here.”
“Who?” she asks.
“The old lady I told you about earlier.” I point my head behind me, trying to be as subtle as possible.
She rolls her lip piercing between her two front teeth. “Okay,” she drags the word out. “A little strange. But, like I said, my grandma used to sit in one place all the time. Maybe she’s the same.”
I follow her as she moves past me and makes her way towards the sinks to wash the plates. “I really don’t think so. I have a bad feeling in my gut, and my gut is never wrong.”
Setting the plates down, she turns back towards me, places her hands on my shoulder, and shakes me, “Seriously, it’s okay. I know you’ve concocted this little motion in your Southern belle head of yours that all New Yorkers are up to no good, but trust me, they’re not.”
“I don’t think that,” I mutter. Okay, maybe a little. But in my defense, their attitudes don’t help their case.
“Please, just stop worrying about it, okay?” She stares at me, and I realize she’s waiting for me to agree. Begrudgingly, I nod. “Good,” she sighs in relief. “Now, go get the people at table six.”
It isn’t until two hours later when the small hand on the clock is pointing to nine that I realize the diner is about to close. I feel like I’ve been on autopilot all day. I can hardly remember the faces of any of the customers I served today. Not a single conversation I had with any of them crosses my mind. Everything is a blur.
As the few customers left begin to trickle out, I walk over to the bar where my manager, Robert, is wiping down the counter. His sleeve cuffs are rolled to his elbows, and a line of sweat trails down his neck. On most days, I try not to bother him because of personal issues he’s been having recently. Instead, I tend to seek help from the waitresses that can stand to hear me complain, which happens to be just Kaitlin. However, for the first time probably ever, she’s proven to be useless when it comes to the current issue at hand. So, desperate times call for desperate measures. I lean over the bar and whisper to him, “Hey, not to bother you or anything, but that old lady has been here all day.”
“Who?” He raises his eyebrow, not even glancing at me.
I nod towards the old woman. Still watching.
He looks over at her then back at me and says, “Look at her. She’s probably grieving someone. Maybe it was a loved one and they used to eat here and she’s here in their honor or something.”
“That’s what I thought, but she’s been staring at me all day. She hasn’t even ordered anything.”
“Hannah, she’s a little old lady. The most she can do is hit you with her walker.”
I roll my eyes, but a small smile threatens to peek out despite my frustration. He’s right. Still, first Kaitlin and now him, I was growing tired of my worries being disregarded.
He looks down at the watch on his wrist and sighs. “Anyways, it’s about that time. You’ll close up for me, yeah?” Rob says, throwing the used rag into the sink. “My youngest kid came down with the flu and I want to get home as soon as possible. I don’t want my wife to handle him and our oldest alone any longer.”
Looking around, I realize it’s just us two in here. And her.
Huh. Why did Kaitlin leave without saying bye? I ask myself.
“Yeah, of course.” I say, finally noticing the dark under his eyes. He does look awful, and only a hint of guilt creeps in for mentioning anything in the first place.
Will you kick that woman out for me before you leave though? The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I close my mouth shut before they can leave. I don’t want to embarrass myself about her any further.
He disappears behind the door then comes back only ten seconds later with his coat on. He walks through the door, takes one look outside, and curses.
“God damn it, the forecast didn’t say there would be rain today.” He glances over his shoulder at me just as he pushes open the door. “Get home safe, got it?”
For the first time, the sound of rain crashing against the windows catches my attention.
“I always do,” I nod. I can feel her stare hot on my neck. I rub my neck to get rid of the horrible feeling, but I fail.
I watch him through the windows as he covers his head with his hands, runs, then disappears into the dark.
Sighing deeply and squeezing my eyes shut, I know what I have to do. I wipe my sweaty palms against the dirty, old apron I’ve had for over a year now and make my way towards her. The closer I get, the more my mind screams at me, No, turn away while you can.
“Sorry to bother you, miss, but the diner is officially closed for the night. Thank you for visiting. Please come back again soon.” The last part is a lie. Don’t come back again soon. Or ever.
She just stares and stares. I begin to question if she even heard me at all.
“Miss, do you need me to help you get up or…?” I ask, growing uncomfortable by the second. A foreboding feeling overcomes me. I look around the room desperately trying to find a savior, even though I know we are alone.
Suddenly, her cold, bony fingers reach forward and wrap tightly around my wrist. I snap my head towards her, too stunned to say a word. The only movement she’s made for as long as she’s been here. Black, beady eyes stare into mine. The cold reaches through every pore of my skin and squeezes my chest. I’ve lost my ability to breathe.
“Miss, do you need something?” I ask. The words struggle to leave my mouth. My throat is constricting like I’m in a chokehold.
She’s silent. We’ve been staring into each other’s eyes for what feels like centuries, the 60’s music in the background getting quieter and quieter.
“Miss?” I repeat.
Instead she raises two of her fingers on her right hand and lightly kisses them. Then, she slowly raises her fingers towards my face.
“What the hell are you doing?” I rear my head back.
With a strength I didn’t expect from the woman that was made of merely skin and bones, she pulls me back towards her with the hand she has clutched around my wrist.
“Stop, you crazy b– …“ I try to pull away, but I’m frozen. Her touch has turned me in to ice. All of the fight left in me has evaporated.
Her fingers graze against my lips in a whisper. Despite her freezing skin, the touch feels like fire on my lips. I try to move my legs, my arms, anything. But I can’t. It’s as if cement has been poured all over me, rooting me to the spot.
“Nisi osculum liberabit vos,” she mutters under her breath.
“What?” I reply breathlessly. That simple word felt exhausting to get out.
A toothy grin appears on her face, horrifying me. Smiling is meant to brighten up a face, instead it only makes hers darker. “Only God can judge. You will learn soon enough.”
Seconds, or perhaps even minutes, pass and she retracts her dainty hand, places it on the table, and pushes herself up onto her feet. I’m unable to do anything but watch her back as she moves past me with the swiftness of a hummingbird zipping by. Still unable to move, the only sign that she has left is the ding of the bell.
A gasp escapes me. Apparently, I had been holding my breath for God knows how long. Running towards the back room where my jacket and keys are, my legs threaten to give out from underneath. Weak, so weak.
Get me the hell out of here, I tell myself. Not even bothering to make sure all of the lights are off, I make my way towards the front door, clutching my jacket in my fist, and wrench it open with a shaky hand.
The cold rain hits me first. My nose immediately starts to burn, and I don’t need a mirror to know that my pale face has already become a disgusting shade of red in a matter of seconds. I push myself up against the closed door, lean my head back and close my eyes. Deep breaths. Exhale, inhale. Exhale, inhale.
Slowly but surely, waves of relief wash over me. The slow pitter-patter of the rain cleanses me of all my fears and worries. The tightness in my chest gets smaller and smaller until there’s nothing left. Opening my eyes, I stare at the cars driving past the shop until they become a blur of reds, yellows, and whites.
I’ve been in this city way too long, I think. I’ve officially become one of those crazy New Yorkers I always make fun of.
Turning around, I pick up the key and lock the door. Steady hands this time, finally.
I debate putting my coat on, but for once, the rain doesn’t bother me. The water cools my flushed face. Besides, my apartment is only a quick ten-minute walk away.
As I walk past the closed-up shops and apartment complexes, my mind slowly drifts back to that strange old lady at the diner. Why was she there all day? It had to have been more than just mourning someone. Every time I looked over at her, she was already looking at me. And why did no one but me seem to care?
The more I think about her, the more questions I get.
A small tingle materializes on my lips and gradually spreads. I raise my fingers where her fingers had rested. Hot to the touch. If someone were to look at me now, would they see smoke drifting from my lips?
At once, I remember the words she had told me. Or told herself. Only God can judge? I huff. The fuck is that supposed to mean? Is she implying I’m judgmental? I know I can be, but I refuse to believe I’m more judgmental than everyone else in this world. Hell, even in this wretched city.
Her subtle threat is what worries me the most. I’ll learn soon enough? Was that meant to be a threat?
Question after question flutters through my mind. Lost in my own thoughts, I’m hardly aware of my surroundings when I suddenly hear a screeching sound within feet of me.
Startled, I look to my right and a bright, white light fills my vision. In that very moment, seconds before the end, I know exactly the meaning of those fatal words she had uttered.
She was right.
I did learn soon enough.