Helen Cox - Starlight in New York

That gave him pause. He opened his mouth and closed it again before posing his question.

‘I couldn’t help noticing that couple called you Mrs Delaney.’ He looked at me, his eyes expectant. As though that statement alone was enough to prompt me into spilling my story.

‘What’s the question?’

‘Are you…married?’ he asked. I looked at the ground. Tears swelled but I fought them. I took a deep breath, stared back at him. His frown had returned. He looked sorry for even asking the question.

‘No. I was once. But I’m not anymore.’ There. That wasn’t a lie. Not the whole truth but not a lie.

‘I’m sorry. I…’ He scratched his forehead dead in the centre. ‘I got married too. When I was younger. It didn’t work out. Makes it difficult to trust new people. And that, well, that can get pretty lonely.’ He took a step towards me.

‘Well,’ I said, part pleased by his assumption, part wishing I had the guts to tell him something closer to the truth, ‘I suppose everybody’s loved and lost,’ and then added, ‘I’m sort of trying to stop acting like I’m the first person in history to have it happen to them.’

‘I didn’t realise.’ He bowed his head. ‘God. I shouldn’t have called you…’ He took another step forward.

‘A psycho?’ I shuffled on the spot.

He opened his mouth to say something but the words stuck in his throat. Staring into each other’s eyes, we cut through our awkwardness with short, nervous laughter.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve had some bad…’ He stopped and pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Please, just forget I said that.’

‘Yeah. Sure.’ I gave him a frail smile. ‘Thanks for getting me home.’ Turning then, I walked up the steps to the front door, fumbled for my keys.

‘So I’ll see you around. In the diner maybe,’ he called, stood at the bottom of the steps with his hands in his pockets. He looked so humble, not at all like someone who was about to get their big break in the movies.

‘Yeah. Well, you and Angela are going to the hop, aren’t you?’

‘Oh, er…yes.’ He glanced down at the pavement.

‘Guess I’ll see you then, if not before.’ I gave him a nod and scurried inside, pushing the door shut behind me. Leaning back against it, I let out a heavy sigh. My head throbbed, my mind flitting back to the moments I’d spent in Jack’s arms. Best not to get dejected or anxious about how overpowering the need to be close to him now was. He was with Angela and that was for the best. For everyone. Yes, I’d been lonely the past couple of years. Being on my own hadn’t proved as easy as I thought but what was the alternative? Getting close to someone? Losing myself a second time? No. If I let that happen again, I may never find my way back.

An assembly line of familiar faces awaited at the diner the next day, including Jack and Angela. All of them in earlier than usual, guaranteeing a front row seat at the counter.

‘Mornin’,’ Mona said with obvious weight.

‘Good morning.’ I smiled. ‘Anybody need their order taking?’

‘Yes. I’ve got an order here for an explanation about what happened yesterday.’ Mona put her head on one side, and leaned in towards me.

‘Can’t I at least get a cup of coffee down me before the interrogation begins?’ I yawned. I’d been awake most of the night with my throbbing head.

Mona laughed. ‘Not sure I can stretch to that, it’s been bad enough waitin’ this long. You really gonna make us speculate any longer? C’mon.’

‘It’s a dull story. I warn you now. Total anti-climax.’

Oh Esther, you liar.

‘Let us be the judge of that.’ Mona rested on a high stool stood behind the counter and looked at me, waiting. I took a deep breath and thought about what to say. Where to begin. How little I could get away with telling them.

‘You were a teacher,’ said Walt. I looked at him, picked up a coffee jug and topped up his drink before answering.

‘I used to teach literature. Back in England.’

‘That explains the crossword clues.’ I shook my head. For Walt, that was the most significant enigma of all when it came to me. A waitress who read for pleasure was a species completely beyond his imagination.

‘You got me stumped, Esther,’ said Mona. ‘If you can teach about Shakespeare what in the world are you doin’ sweeping floors and makin’ milkshakes? If I could teach about books I wouldn’t be here. You can be sure of that.’

‘What’s wrong with this place?’ asked Bernie from his perch at the end of the counter.

‘Nothin’,’ said Mona. ‘I just love comin’ home with achin’ feet and smellin’ of bacon fat. Loved it every day for the past thirteen years.’ Bernie’s left eye twitched but he didn’t say any more on the subject. Mona turned back to me with an expectant hand on her hip. ‘Well?’ I looked at Jack. He caught my eye but then looked down into his coffee, stirring in some more milk.

‘Well, teaching, like a lot of things, isn’t the charmed life you might imagine.’ That’s right, Esther. Focus on the professional. Keep it surface. ‘People think all you have to do is talk for a few hours and revel in the long holidays but there’s a lot of pressure. At least there was back in England.’

‘So you left to be a waitress?’

I gave Mona a playful push. ‘I left to become something I wasn’t.’ That was the most truthful thing I’d said to anyone for years. ‘For the first time in my life I didn’t know what I’d be, and that was exciting.’

‘Waitressin’ excitin’?’ Mona shook her head in disbelief.

‘In a city like New York? Yes it is, to me,’ I said.

‘Well I ain’t never heard nothing like it. All that studyin’ of books, years it must’ve took, and you travel halfway around the world to serve people eggs and toast. Can barely pay your rent,’ said Mona.

‘I don’t expect you to understand –’ I started pulling pots out of the dishwasher ‘– but to me it’s liberating. I don’t have the weight of children’s futures on my shoulders. Leaves room in my head for other things. Each day I wake up knowing the worst thing I can do is take the wrong order to a table.’

Or lie to everyone. About everything.

‘Actually,’ Angela said, speaking for the first time that morning, ‘I think we learnt yesterday that’s not entirely the worst you could do…’

‘Angela.’ Jack shook his head.

‘Oh, I was just joking, Esther…’ she began to backtrack.

‘It’s fine.’ I laughed. ‘I took it as it was meant.’ She smiled a radiant smile. Her lip gloss glimmered even in the faint, yellowing light of the diner, and she wore an acid green shift dress patterned with tiny triangles that brought out the earthier tones of her rich, brown hair. It was conclusive: she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in real life. Eat your heart out Yasmin Le Bon.

‘So that’s it?’ Mona turned her head sideways.