Shattered Diamonds

3. Alex

3

Alex

The pretty waitress’s step faltered as she approached my table. Recognition flickered in her eyes as she made a valiant effort to smile, but ended up merely grimacing in my direction.

I recognized her, too. I’d read a lengthy article about her in the Brunswick Bay Gazette. It had been a relief not to have my own face sprawled across the front page of the weekly paper again, but I felt bad for the aspiring athlete. She’d given it her all and had fallen short of her dreams.

Lifting my lips, but careful not to show my teeth, I gave the young woman what I hoped was a friendly, reassuring smile. She had been given a tough path where things that were completely out of her control had effectively ruined her life. I could certainly understand that.

“What can I get you to drink?” She asked, making an obvious effort to seem normal, despite the c***k in her voice.

“Just tap water, with no ice, please.” I tried to keep my response casual, wanting nothing more than a polite, normal interaction, but I barely remembered what ‘normal’ felt like anymore.

As quickly as she appeared, the waitress whirled away to retrieve my drink. While she was gone, I pretended to peruse the menu, even though I already knew exactly what I was getting. Staring down at the plastic coated pages kept me from having to make eye contact with any of the gawkers. I knew from experience that the second I caught them looking, they would dart their eyes away.

The diner’s owner, Mimi, shuffled quickly past my table on her way to deliver plates piled high with fried, delicious food. “My sweet niece, Jo-Jo, will take good care of you, Alex.”

I gave the matronly woman a genuine smile over the fun nickname she used for her niece and nodded to acknowledge her kind promise. Mimi’s ability to give me the benefit of the doubt was the main reason I came here to eat almost every day. It was the only place where I wasn’t shunned.

Mimi was a no-nonsense lifetime Mainer, and she firmly believed in the tenant of ‘innocent until proven guilty.’ Right after Claire had gone missing, she shook her pointer finger at me and said, “I truly don’t think you had anything to do with this tragedy, but if I find out otherwise, I’ll never forgive you.”

I’d been so thankful for her terse faith in me, I almost broke down into sobs. The last thing that I had ever expected when dealing with the sudden disappearance of my wife was for the town’s people to immediately turn on me. Even the police, who were supposed to be focused on finding Claire, spent much of their time investigating me, convinced that I was the culprit.

Before long, my waitress, whose nametag read ‘Josie,’ returned with my water glass. I ordered the BLT with onion rings. She took too long to write down the simple order, but then she made eye contact with me, nodded, and politely said that it would be right out. It was a relief to see that the young woman was as open-minded and kind as her aunt.

Normally, Mimi waited on me herself because the other waitresses seemed fearful of approaching my table. They, like most of the other residents of this tiny town, had already accused me, tried me, and found me to be guilty in the unfair courts of their own minds.

I took out my cell phone to glance through emails while I waited for my food. It was a distraction that made me look busy, rather than shining a spotlight on how pathetic and alone I felt.

Several times in the past, I had brought my laptop with me to pull out and work on my current manuscript, but this was supposed to be my lunch break. I always walked here––no matter what the weather––to get some fresh air. It didn’t feel right to interrupt my break with work, so lately I had been refusing to even bring my computer, in order to eliminate the temptation to work.

Justifying the decision, I reminded myself that I occasionally needed mental breaks. My writing flowed much more easily after a real break than if I tried to power through. In fact, my daily word counts had almost doubled since I had adopted a system of sprinting for twenty-five uninterrupted minutes at a time, followed by a short break. That had been before Claire went missing, though. Now, the words refused to come at all.

Right after I tapped my phone’s notes application to remind myself to look into writing an article for my blog about my sprinting method for increasing productivity, Mimi plopped down on the bench directly across from me. I blinked in surprise a few times because I don’t remember ever before seeing the woman sit down. She was constantly working. I couldn’t help but grin as I wondered if she had somehow seen the note I’d been typing about taking short breaks throughout the day.

“I don’t know what you’re smiling about,” she said.

My chest immediately deflated. Was it possible that this open-minded woman had finally succumbed to the local pressures to believe the worst in me? If so, I would hate losing this as a safe place to get lunch. It was my daily interaction with humans outside my family. Even though most people didn’t speak, or even make eye contact with me, I still enjoyed the noises of clanging dishes and rumbling voices that this place provided.

Our house was far too quiet––especially when Hannah was at school. Sometimes, I feared the silence might strangle me.

Forcing myself back into the moment, I stared at Mimi, waiting with bated breath for the accusations to roll off her tongue.

Instead of that, Mimi’s vivid, wise blue eyes bored into me when she asked kindly, “What are you going to do next week when that sweet little girl of yours is out of school?”

“Oh,” I sat back against the red leather booth, surprised to find that someone actually cared about my childcare situation. “Well, I want to spend some extra time with her, just having fun and letting her be a kid. She’s had a really rough year.”

Mimi nodded. Her face had taken on a somber expression. “She sure has,” the woman agreed sadly, before adding, “And she is sure to love some extra one-on-one time with her daddy, but what are you going to do with her while you are working?”

It was a predicament I had given quite a bit of thought. Claire’s disappearance had happened right after the school year began, so Hannah had been in school every weekday since then. That gave me ample time to try to get some writing done during the day before she got home from school.

“I would love to be able to take the summer off to spend time with her, but I don’t think that would be a wise financial decision.” Our money situation was comfortable from my book sales, but it wasn’t like I made a steady salary. If the economy took a downturn, people’s disposable incomes would go down, and I could easily find myself making a fraction of what we’ve become accustomed to spending.

We had a decent amount of savings stored up, but Claire’s income from her management position at the local bank had given us a back up plan if my book sales suddenly plummeted. That high-profile job and Claire’s kindhearted, friendly demeanor had made her well known and well liked by nearly everyone in town. My solitary writing profession and natural introverted tendencies had led those same people to suspect and condemn me even more after their beloved Claire’s disappearance. What they didn’t seem to realize was that I missed her most of all.

Mimi was staring at me unflinchingly, so I added, “I don’t want to put Hannah in a daycare every day, so I thought she could relax and watch cartoons in the living room while I write in my study. If she needs anything, I’ll be right there to get it for her.”

It was obvious by the woman’s pursed face that she didn’t approve of my master plan for the school break. “So, you’re planning to plop that poor child in front of a television all summer?”

“No,” I shook my head, suddenly realizing how awful it sounded. “We’ll walk here together every day for lunch, and we’ll spend the evenings together.”

Mimi shook her head and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as if I was the densest man she had ever met. “Either you’re not going to get any work done, or that child is going to be bored out of her mind,” she predicted.

Feeling exasperated by her firm disapproval of my plan, I lifted my palms and asked, “Well, do you have a better idea?”

Josie chose that moment to set down my plate. In the process, she managed to knock over my water glass, which sent water sliding across the table and dripping into my lap.

The frazzled waitress apologized profusely as I used a napkin to swipe at my pants, hoping it wouldn’t look like I had peed myself for my walk home. Mimi watched the entire exchange with a bemused expression before nodding proudly and saying, “Yes, I have a much better idea.”