Night at the Diner: Chapter 2

Summary: A seventeen-year-old runs away from home and takes shelter in an all-night diner, where a waitress and a stranger’s kindness force him to confront what he’s running from.

TWs: domestic violence, alcohol abuse, self-harm, suicide, death of a family member, child running away from home, threats of violence, parental conflict/estrangement

Chapter 2: Burning

Flashback

“You are responsible for this. For all of this.”

“Don’t take that tone with me.”

“How could you come home drunk? In front of him? Again?”

“He’s seventeen. He should be drinking now anyway.”

“He’s only seventeen. Do you know what he came home to today?”

“It will only make him tougher. He is too sensitive anyway.”

“Is that what you did for Daisy too?”

“Don’t you dare take her name.”

“I will. I cannot erase her from my life like you have. You could have helped her. But your ego was bigger than the love you had for her.”

“Shut up.”

I heard glass shattering and my mother shouting. I ran down, ready to stop my dad from killing her, but instead, what lay before me questioned everything I knew about my father.

Daisy’s ashes lay on the floor, Mum weeping uncontrollably beside them. I looked at my dad in horror. It was like watching a horrific car crash in slow motion with everything around running in double-time. I froze, unable to do anything. Time and space began to elude me.

“I should have done this a long time ago,” he said, walking upstairs.

I couldn’t move. He never accepted that he was at fault for Daisy’s death, but I thought that he was hiding the guilt behind the pain of losing her. It would explain his sudden descent into alcoholism. It would explain the resentment between my parents, but I no longer knew who my father was. Maybe I never knew. He walked down the stairs with all of Daisy’s things. I watched him throw everything she owned, every bit of memory we had of her, out the door. I watched my mum trying to stop him. She begged him to stop. He pushed her to the floor and took out his lighter.

“Here’s your burger.” Frankie startled me. I looked up at her and saw my sister.

I do not know what Frankie saw when she looked down at me. It could have been the haunted horror in my eyes, my tear-stained, red, splotchy cheeks, the utter despair on my face, or the pain clinging to my soul, but she sat down next to me. She pulled me into her arms, and I sobbed.

The comfort of her embrace reminded me too much of Daisy. For a year, I’ve trained myself to forget her existence. For a year, every time someone mentions Daisy, I dissociate. For a year, I refused to look at the pictures of her above the staircase. For a year, I lost myself in music and books to avoid the grasp of reality. None of that mattered when Frankie hugged me. For a split second, I allowed myself to imagine what it might have felt like if Daisy had been the one comforting me through my first heartbreak. The irony of having my heart broken by Daisy is not lost on me.

Stop thinking about her.

I pulled back and apologised. She just patted my back and asked me to eat my food.

“Food makes things better.”

Frankie walked back to the counter as I saw flashes of Daisy with a variety of different foods, saying the exact words when I fell off my bike and scraped my knee, when I got my first C in a maths quiz, when I cost my team the game by missing a penalty, when I fought with my best friend. I allowed myself to bask in those memories.

Those were the only memories I had of her. The memories that felt like a tear in my very existence. Her voice, her eyes, her hugs. I used to hate those hugs. I used to hate her hands ruffling my perfectly styled hair just to annoy me. I used to hate her randomly engulfing headlocks just because she was taller. I used to hate a lot of things about her.

Now, how you wish you could hear her voice one last time. One last hug. You would sit still now if she wanted to ruffle your hair. You would gladly stay smaller than her so that she could put you in a headlock.

As I finished my burger, the man from the counter walked towards me.

“Hey kid,” he said while sitting opposite me.

“Hi,” I said as I smiled and tried to hide my nervousness.

“How was the burger?”

“Really good. Really delicious, sir. I haven’t had anything so tasty before.”

“That’s great. I am glad.” He stared at me for a second too long. I had to cut the tension.

“I know she said this was free, but I can pay for it. I really don’t want to…”

“I know you’re lying,” he interrupted, and I froze. “I don’t believe that girlfriend story at all.”

Oh, shit!

“But sir…” I tried to defend myself.

“Don’t even try to deny it.” I shut my mouth.

You’re dead.

I’m dead.

I didn’t know what to do anymore. He continued, but in a softer voice, “I thought about calling the cops,”

Fuck, you’re dead.

I shivered.

“ — but when you spaced out, you looked like you were hurting.” I started hyperventilating.

I am so dead. Dad is going to kill me.

“I figured I’ll let you eat and then call the cops. You looked hungry too.”

He called the cops. HE CALLED THE COPS.

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