13. Breakfast
The call had been brief, pleasant but perfunctory. “Let’s have brunch at the Phoenix,” Felicia had said. “I’m worried about you.” Kate had accepted partly because she could find no justifiable reason to decline an invitation from a friend who had also been caught flat footed by Danny’s disappearance, but mostly because she hoped to be enlivened by the presence of this particular friend, the one with all the vigor and life. But as she pulled into the parking lot and recognized several of the cars, she questioned her decision. She wasn’t anxious to be on the receiving end of the curious glances, of everyone who had heard all the gossip, each with their own version of the story. The most sinister of them would be delighted to stop by the table to offer their heartfelt concern about all that Kate must be going through face to face. Felicia’s presence would keep the table visits to a minimum. It was convenient, on occasions like this to have an intimidating friend.
Kate saw Felicia from across the large dining room. She glanced down at her watch and noticed that she was ten minutes early. Odd that Felicia would already have been seated. Felicia noticed Kate at the front desk, smiled and lifted her hand in a beauty pageant wave. Felicia stood as Kate approached and gave her a brief hug and whispered, “Thank you so much for coming” into her ear.
The waitress poured black coffee in delicate china cups and placed two leather menus on the end of the table, then retreated leaving them staring at each other, neither knowing how to begin. Finally Felicia began with, “So, Danny called Harry last night. I take it that he also called you. Have you heard anything else from him?”
Kate was surprised by her tone. This was not the Felicia Monk that she knew. There was no lightness, no mischievous grin. She was tense. Serious. Kate hesitated, bought some time by pouring cream into her coffee, watching the bronze gold swirls in the cup. “Yes. He called. He’s coming back home in a few days.”
“A few days?” Felicia seemed suddenly rattled. “It was Harry’s understanding that he would be returning right away.”
The waitress returned and relieved Kate of the burden of having to respond.
“Have you ladies decided on anything?”
Felicia seemed agitated by the interruption and quickly took it upon herself to order for the both of them. “We will both have the eggs Benedict with the melon tray and blueberry scones...unless you want something else, love?” Kate shook her head, grateful for not having had to make a decision. As soon as the waitress took the first step away Felicia began. “Kate, I’m worried about Danny. Something isn’t right. Nothing about him has been right for some time...”
Kate stiffened and found her voice, “You’re worried about Danny? Don’t you mean Harry is worried.”
Felicia, again tense and defensive, “We both are worried, if you must know. But no more than you, I assume.”
Kate took a sip of her coffee. She had known Felicia for many years now. They were people who probably would not have chosen each other as friends. They had been forced together by circumstantial events, yet they had worked well together. But theirs was a friendship with shallow roots, one that had never been tested, never having to endure many dark clouds largely as a result of the raging success of their husband’s collaboration. But now the blue skies were gone. They found themselves sitting across the table from each other at an establishment which had always held great charm for their relationship, but now suddenly felt unfamiliar.
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think of any of this at the moment, Felicia. I listen to him speak and none of it sounds like my husband. I watch him, even the way he carries himself seems...foreign, like I know its him but there’s a seed of doubt. I mean...he was in Mississippi...” the word trailed off unanswered, unanswerable.
“He needs help, Kate. Professional help.” Felicia extended a hand across the table and gave Kate’s a tender squeeze. “We should have known earlier what with that horrible fight he got into and then...promoting Wayne like that. He’s clearly not thinking right.”
Kate felt herself bristle at the questioning of Danny’s business decisions but as soon as she thought of a defense, the waitress appeared with a tall skinny man in a dark suit holding their meal aloft and placing it down in front of them one delicate piece at a time. The mustard yellow sauce of the Eggs Benedict running in four rivers down each side of the muffin and ham looked especially small on the large gilded plate. The blueberry scone was glazed with sugar crystals and came with an embroidered napkin draped over the edge of the plate, the melons cut in thin slivers fanned out in the muted colors of out of season tropical fruit. What little appetite either of them had, disappeared with the perfectly set table.
###
A bell tingled overhead as Danny entered the mostly empty diner. A heavy set middle aged women, behind what looked like a piece of furniture that might have been a pulpit in a previous life, looked up from her magazine long enough to say, “Sit anywhere you like.”
Danny looked over the place and wondered where all the Chevy, Ford and Dodge pickup truck owners were. There were empty booths everywhere and only a few tables with paying customers. In the middle of this forlorn enterprise was a long counter which ran almost the entire length of the dining room. Behind the counter was a waitress and a very large man with enormous forearms wearing a white apron. Danny asked the hostess, “May I sit at the counter?”
“Anywhere you like includes the counter...wait a sec, hon, Billy...does anywhere you like include the counter today?”
The man with the Popeye forearms answered without looking up from his work, “Let me see now...today Saturday?”
“Last I checked...”
“Then the counter is wide open.”
Danny took a seat near the middle where the big man was laboring over a skillet, running a wet sponge over it as steam rose up into his face. The waitress handed him a plastic menu that felt slightly wet to the touch. Danny could feel the cold air from an air conditioning vent overhead, which combined with the heat and steam from the skillet made it feel simultaneously chilly and humid.
“Coffee?”, the waitress said after she had already filled a thick brown mug. “There’s cream and sugar by the napkins.” Then she flitted around Billy and disappeared behind a pair of swinging doors. Danny glanced at his watch. 10:00 AM. He couldn’t resist engaging Billy in conversation, “Your parking lot is nearly full. Where is everybody?”
“You shoulda been in here 4 hours ago. Place was packed. But its Saturday. They all come here for breakfast then leave in two or three vans heading up to Oxford.”
“What’s in Oxford?” As soon as the question had escaped his lips Danny knew he had probably stepped in it. Could he look or sound any more like a stranger?
“I don’t suppose you’re from Missipi...”
“Wait, I know this one. Its football and its either Mississippi State or Ole Miss, right?”
The waitress was back and laughed out loud, “Lawdy, don’t say that too loud around here, Mister. It wouldn’t be good for your health! Around here the correct answer is always Ole Miss. So, what can I get ya?”
Danny smiled and answered, “Speaking of things that aren’t good for my health, how about three eggs over hard with three pieces of bacon?” Danny noticed her name tag for the first time...Darlene.
“You want the three peep then.”
“Excuse me?”
“The three peep.” Darlene smiled back. “Its right there on the menu, center column half way down...Three Peep.”
Danny found it. The Three Peep was in fact three eggs any style, three pieces of bacon, or three sausage patties and three pieces of wheat, white or rye toast for $6.99.
Darlene was now leaning on the counter, “You know how when your favorite football team wins a championship then everybody wants them to repeat? Then if they do that, they want them to do it again and if they do they call that a three-peat? And you know that cute little sound that baby chicks make...peep, peep?”
“ A Three Peep. It’s perfect. Then I’ll take bacon and rye toast.”
Danny took a sip of coffee and watched Billy go to work. With his left hand he grabbed three large brown eggs out of a clear plastic container, tapped each with the edge of the spatula he held in his right hand. With an almost indiscernible twitch of his fingers each egg was cracked open, deposited on the skillet and the cracked shells tossed expertly into a hole in the skillet in the back corner, all in one mystifying, one-handed motion. With his empty left hand he picked up two metal salt and pepper shakers, misshapen by use, and deftly covered the now bubbling eggs. Then he opened a small refrigerator box beneath the counter and peeled off three thick slices of bacon from a slab covered in wax paper. They made a sizzling sound when he slapped them next to the eggs on the skillet. The smell was heavenly. Danny watched in fascinated admiration for a while longer before saying, “Looks like you’ve done that a few times.”
“Damn near every day for twenty five years,” Billy replied as he flipped the eggs over with his wooden handled 18 inch spatula which looked as old and weather beaten as Billy.
“That long? That’s amazing.”
“It’s either amazing or its all I’m good at doing, one of the two.”
Danny smiled as Billy dropped rye bread into a toaster. “Well, everybody needs to be good at something, I suppose.”
Billy turned from his work and looked at Danny for the first time. He was wearing thick glasses covered in grease. “So, what are you good at?”
Danny was stunned at the sight of him, but equally thrown off balance by the question. He momentarily thought of saying that he ran an advertising business but that wasn’t really an answer to the question. Instead, he froze a tick too long staring at the man with the coke bottle glasses. Billy threw him a lifeline, “Don’t worry about these glasses. They’re just for show. I can’t see a damn thing with or without them.”
“Then how do you cook?”
“Sense of smell, my friend...and 25 years worth of muscle memory.”
Billy had turned back to his work and busied himself with removing the bread from the toaster, lathering the toast with butter, then flipping the bacon. He reached to a shelf above him and retrieved a thick white oval plate, sat it directly on the skillet and placed three fried eggs, three pieces of bacon, fanned out the toast on the edge of the plate, then wheeled around and placed it perfectly centered in front of Danny, right between the knife and fork on the napkin at his left hand and the spoon at his right. Danny was amazed but decided on silence for the first time in weeks. As he took his first bite of egg, the hostess appeared at his side and in a half whisper said, “Don’t fall for that horse-shit. Billy can see plenty good enough when a cute little skirt walks in here. He could see a lot better if he’d clean those glasses once in a while.”
Billy laughed, “I heard that!”
Then Darlene raced by and added, “Ever notice how every pay day he acts like he’s blind as a bat. Claims he can hardly see where to sign!”
Billy laughed again, louder this time. “Some days are better than others when you’re damn near legally blind”
As Danny ate his breakfast the back and forth continued. It was easily the most delicious bacon and eggs he had ever had. The eggs were crispy around the edges. The bacon thick and crunchy, tinged with the flavor of maple syrup. But as he ate and listened he continued to be haunted by the question...what are you good at? The answer lay somewhere between, “I’m good at advertising” and “I’m nowhere near as good at anything as you are at making bacon and eggs.”
Danny placed a twenty dollar bill on the counter, thanked everyone for the delicious breakfast then found his rental car in the parking lot. He looked back at the diner and felt a cold sliver of darkness pass through him.
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