If anyone is bored on this lonely night...
Kidneyboy@aol.com
Wed, 14 Apr 1999 20:20:49 -0400 (EDT)
If anyone is bored on this lonely night, I have sent you a story to read. I
recently completed a story for my senior english class. I have it
transcribed here for anyone who would like to read it. Being that we can't
decided whether or not to distribute Salinger stories, I figured I just
distribute my own. Give me some feedback if you wish, I don't know, I
figured it wouldn't hurt if I just sent it to you.
The World is an Ashtray
by Mathew R. Swiatlowski
Six men were seated at the counter all drinking coffee out of the
same utility-styled mugs. They were thick and white, the kind of coffee mugs
that weren't constructed for aesthetic purposes but for their durability.
They could be dropped a million times over and have nothing to show for it
except for a dent or two. The six men starred at their coffees with
extreme awareness. There was a stark realism to each of the men's facial
features. Through layers of premature wrinkles and mistrimmed mustaches, it
became alarmingly clear that these were the early hours of the morning, and
that these hours came all too often for most. Four of the six men seated at
the counter were smoking cigarettes. The other two were content with merely
their coffees. They each sat there sipping or smoking, and in some cases
alternating.
Five of these men, three smokers and both of the nonsmokers, were
preparing for their day at work while the other, a nonsmoker, was enjoying
his day off. One man, a smoker was using his hand and arm to hold up his
heavy head from hitting the counter. The man seated to the left of him,
after a mere glance, understood the other's troubles and considered doing the
same. He started lifting his hand from its complacent place on the counter,
but stopped short realizing that his hand was just fine as it was.
All of the men were reading different sections of the local,
regional, and national newspapers. They read articles of impeachment,
environmental genocide, and lost football games. It was the same articles
they read every morning and the same articles they'll read forever. The
seats at the counter were positioned on a swivel mechanism, the kind of
chairs that young children annoy old men with when they spin around on them
endlessly for hours. These six men, out of respect for old men of the world
(a group they were increasingly becoming prime candidates for), were sitting
still on their chairs. Their swiveling days were over. All movement at the
counter was made through puffs of smoke and turned-over newsprint.
Emil, the cook, had his back to the counter and his face towards the
grill. He was busy scrambling eggs and frying bacon. The waitress moved up
and down the counter filling coffees and taking orders. They worked
systematically like a machine. They played off each other well. The six men
were a part of that machine as well. They ate the food and drank the coffee,
not to mention filled the air with smoke for flavor.
To the right of the men, hanging silently against the wall in a
position that leveled out slightly above the seated men's heads, was a sign
that read:
All Ye Who Enter
Must Wear A Smile
Athens Diner
Estab. 1949
Every Saturday morning it was the six men, Emil the cook, the
waitress, that sign, and me--- James Smith, sixteen years old, up to my arms
in soap bubbles, and scared as hell that I was staring at my future.
The set of three sinks that I used to wash dishes at the Athens diner
were aligned on the opposite side of the counter. One sink was for holding,
one was for washing, and one was for rinsing. I stood in front of the sinks
and faced these six men. I had started working at the diner almost a year
ago, and after watching these six men, or six men just like them, I became
well aware of the situation. I kept quiet for the most part, observed the
men carefully every morning, and found myself aquatinted with the patterns of
their visits. I listened to their conversations about their jobs and their
families. When these conversations bored me, my mind and eyes drifted
towards the window that peered out onto Main Street, Athens. Across the
street from the diner was an empty lot where a building had burned down a few
years back. There were also a few useless antique shops and a funeral home
in view from the window. I looked out that window everyday that I worked at
the diner and all I ever saw was the same thing.
There was a lot of the same thing going on at the diner. The six men
sat there. Emil cooked the food. The waitress moved up and down the counter,
filling coffees and taking orders. Even I had a routine. Every Saturday I
would get down to the diner at 7:00 am, throw my sweatshirt in the closet,
and go to work washing the same dishes over and over again. Everything was
routine at the diner, as it was in these men's lives.
At half past seven each of the six men had received their breakfasts
and began their eating routine. Their meals generally consisted of eggs of
some sort, toast, and a meat product on the side. There was a small amount
of variety in the meals, but in the end they were all basically the same.
Each of the six took bites of their meals and sips of their coffees. The
smokers also allowed themselves time to take a drag or two of their
cigarettes between bites. Every now and again, one of the men would take a
glance up at the clock placed high above them and then report back to the
others as to what time it was and how much time they had before their
departure. Along with the eating ritual, they passed the time with casual
conversation. The kept each other from falling asleep. Emil, the cook,
would partake in the conversations while preparing meals. The waitress moved
up and down the counter, filling coffees and taking orders. Around quarter
of eight, all but one of the six men packed up camp at the counter, exchanged
"see you laters," and walked out the door. Their work boots and work pants
guided them to their workplaces. Seated at the very end of the counter was
Red MacDonald, a smoker who was enjoying his day off.
Red sat there, a little slouched back in his chair, with a half smile
on his face . For today at least, life was not bothering him. That morning,
he had made no attempt to conceal his receding hairline with a hat or a fancy
combing method. He wore his shirt stained without noticing. His face was
glad to see the new day.
Across from Red, Emil was doing all that Emil knew how to do. He
stood at the grill scraping away at the remains of the six meals he had just
prepared. Emil was in his thirties and had been working at the diner since
he was in high school. His family owned the Athens Diner and he grew right
into it. I often wondered how he managed to get by working the same job all
those years. "You have to like the people," he would always say, "and I like
the people." It's a pretty worthwhile philosophy in the end, but like I
said, I was sixteen and all I could think about was getting out of there.
Red leaned forward in his chair and salvaged the finishing of his
scrambled egg breakfast. He took a good, solid look at the last bite before
he swallowed it. Everything that morning seemed new and important to him.
"You know Emil," Red said leaning forward in his chair more and
placing his elbows on the counter, "this is the first Saturday I've had off
in fifteen years since I started working at the post office."
"I was wondering what you were still doing here," Emil replied as he
turned away from the grill and faced the counter. "So, how was your meal?"
"Good, just like it always is, but better today, for some reason,"
Red replied lighting a cigarette.
"Ahh, I see."
Emil swung back around to stare at his grill again. Realizing that
he had no more orders left to fill and that the grill was sufficiently
cleaned, he turned back around and conversed with Red. "So, what are your
big plans for this free day?"
"You know," said Red flicking some of his ashes into his ashtray,
"I've been thinking about it a lot because it's my day off and I should do
something special. But then I realized that all I really want to do is sit
right here. So I am going to sit right here, in this chair, all day."
"Hey, if that's what works for you, then go right ahead and sit right
here. You can keep me company," said Emil with a smile.
Red looked down at the counter as he picked up the local newspaper.
He brushed over the headlines with his eyes and began reading a story that
caught his interest. "Hey Emil, did you read this article about Main Street."
"Oh yeah, about how they are going to reface the building in order to
boost shopping downtown."
"I don't get it. There still aren't any stores to shop in. No matter
how nice you make the empty buildings look, there still aren't any stores."
"Yeah, it's almost as good as when they decided that they would
attract people to the downtown by building parking lots." Both men had a
laugh and then continued the conversation. "But hey, Emil said, "that's not
even the best news today."
"Oh yeah, what's that?"
"Edward on a Bike failed his driver's permit test yesterday."
"You're kidding me. They actually let that guy have a chance at
getting his license again?" chuckled Red.
"Yeah he came in yesterday afterwards, like around 6 o'clock or so.
He was all upset and crying."
Edward Auclair was the local idiot who had lost his license eight
years ago in some altercation involving alcohol. Ever since then he had been
forced to get around town by riding a bicycle. He was coined the nickname
Edward on a Bike. Apparently, he had gone for his driver's permit that
Friday and had failed. The Massachusetts driver's permit test is known for
being notoriously easy. The fact that a grown man could not pass it struck
Emil and Red tremendously funny.
"Anthony even has his permit," Emil remarked about me. It's true, I
did have it and I had passed the test rather easily. It really didn't take
much.
Emil and Red continued on with their conversation for quite sometime.
It was a rather slow day. Only a few patrons here and there entered. I
didn't mind it too much because it gave me less work to do. I also had lots
of time to think about life and where I stood. When you're sixteen, you like
to think a lot about life.
Time passed and it was around 9:30. A family entered the Athens
Diner. Soon after another family entered, and then another group of people
followed. They filled in the booths behind the counter. In a matter of
minutes the whole place was filled. That diner moved through moods of slack
time and business. At least once a day the diner would fill up for a little
a while and then the crowd would disperse and no one would be left.
The diner was a completely different place when it had customers.
Emil cut off conversation and went straight to work. The waitress moved up
and down the counter, filling coffees and taking orders. I worked my fingers
to the bone scrubbing thick white plates and mugs and then wiping them dry.
Everything was crazy when the diner was busy.
All Red did that Saturday was sit and read newspapers at the end of
the counter. Everyone once and a while he'd flick some of his excess
cigarette into his astray. He would look up at the clock to see how long the
rush had been going on and try to figure out when it would end. I think we
all did that. Rushes never lasted more than a half hour and when everyone
left, Red was still there at the end of the counter reading, smoking, and
drinking coffee. Everything was quiet
at the diner for a while as everybody kept to themselves. I was looking out
the window myself and found myself staring at that empty lot. I could still
see some of the burned foundation that the town hadn't cleared away yet.
While I was gazing out the diner window I happened to spy good old
Edward on a Bike walking down Main Street, Athens. He was without his bike
and
walking slowly towards the diner and made his entrance. He hung his head
down low against his tall, lanky body. His baseball cap was dirty and beat,
just like him and the rest of his outfit. His glasses were scratched and in
his right hand he clenched a black manual. He sat down on the near end of
the counter and laid his head down on the surface. He laid the book he was
carrying next to him. The cover read "Massachusetts Driving Manual". Emil
made his way over and stood in front of him. "Tough day Eddie?" Emil asked.
Edward mumbled something unintelligible as he lifted his face from
the counter. "Don't bother me." Edward retorted.
"Hey, I was just asking."
"Listen, if you only knew," Edward said.
"If I only knew what?"asked Emil.
"Nothing," Edward replied shaking is head. "Can I get a coffee here?"
"Sure thing, just don't be rude about it," Emil made his way over to
the coffee pots and poured Edward a cup of regular coffee. "Where's the bike
this morning?" Emil asked.
"I don't have a bike anymore," Edward stated.
"Where did it go?"
"I sold it. I didn't think I was going to need it anymore," Edward
scratched his head with some degree of difficulty. "God, what am I doing
here?" he asked out loud.
"You're being a loser, that's what you're doing
here," chimed in Red who was still seated at the very end of the counter.
"Hey, I don't need to here it from you!" Edward said in defense.
"If you only knew." Edward buried his head in his arms.
"You going to drink your coffee, Eddie?" questioned Emil. Edward gave
no reply. "Are you going to drink your coffee, Eddie?" Emil said again.
"Leave it here. I'll drink it," said Edward from underneath his arms.
"Would you pick yourself up for crying out loud?" Red yelled from the
other end of the counter.
"Listen, I told you, I don't need to here it from you," Edward yelled
back.
"You're just making a bigger fool out of yourself when you hide your
face."
Edward picked his head up and looked straight up at Red. His eyes
were bloodshot with dark circles. He had been crying all night. It was plain
to see.
"Don't act like you're better."
"Ok Eddie."
"Listen, you don't have a clue what's it's like, so don't act like
you do."
"Ok Eddie."
Edward flung himself from chair and started pacing in the aisle of
the diner. "God!" he shouted with his arms raised out, "what am I doing
here?"
"I told you what you're doing here," Red said. "You're a loser.
You're 37 years old and you can't even get you're license, or even you're
permit."
"I was this close," Edward said squeezing his index finger and his
thumb together. "This close, I tell you, one question away. And I answered
it, but the computer marked it wrong. It wasn't wrong though. The computer
was wrong."
"Oh yeah, Eddie, the computer was wrong?"
"It was I tell you," said Edward, grasping his cap and ripping in off
of his head. "I got the answer right, but it said it was wrong." Edward sat
back down in his chair and looked the other way.
Emil decided to pop his head into the argument by asking Edward,
"What was the question anything?"
"The question was," Edward responded slowly, " 'can you always turn
right on a red light in Massachusetts?' and I answered, 'Yes, you can.'"
"Eddie, you can't do that," Emil told him, "not when there is a 'no
turn on red' sign at the intersection."
"Yes you can," Edward replied.
"No you can't, haven't you ever read the signs?" asked Emil.
"I've never even seen any signs so therefore, I say you can."
"Prove it, look in that book you have." said Red.
Edward grabbed the book with his right hand, so tight that it started to
crumple. "The book is wrong too," he said.
"Oh, so the computer and the book are wrong?" Red exclaimed
sarcastically.
"They are," said Edward clenching the book even tighter.
"The book isn't wrong, Eddie," Red stated.
"Yes it is."
"No, Eddie, it's not. You're wrong."
"The book is wrong."
"Oh, just grow up Eddie, and admit it to yourself," said Red.
"I already told you, I don't need to hear it from you." Edward was
getting steamed to point where he just couldn't take it anymore. "Listen, do
you even have a clue what's it like, to have everything you've ever wanted
taken from you?"
"Eddie, I have my license," Red stated.
"Don't act like you're life is any better. You work for the post
office. You live in the same Athens I live in."
"Hey, Eddie, I'm satisfied with my life. I've got my job. I've got
this diner here. I'm not asking for anything more."
"All I've ever wanted was one thing, to get my license back. I got my
license taken away from me eight years ago, eight years Red. And all I want
to do is get it back. I was this close. And they took it away from me
because the book is wrong."
"You're the one who's wrong."
"All I've ever wanted back was my license Red! Now leave me alone!"
Edward shouted at the top of his lungs, as loud as he could be, hoping to
shut Red up.
"But Eddie, you're the reason you don't have your license."
Those words shot through Edward like a bullet. They were possibly the
most vulgar words Edward had heard his entire life. It hurt more than
anything else Red could have ever said to him.
No one had ever dared say such things to Edward. He had lived his
whole life without anyone saying such things to him. His whole body began to
shake. His eyes began to sting and his mouth began to quiver. Unable to
apply any type of defense, Edward got up from his chair, shaking, walked out
the door, and ran far, far away down the road.
I was a little shaken by the whole situation myself. My heart was
beating fast. All I could think about was life and Athens and everything
that just occurred. I kept on seeing visions of Edward running away,
forever, down the road. I didn't think that he would ever stop. In my mind,
he just kept going. I couldn't imagine how anyone could live life like that.
I tried to calm myself. Then something hit me. Eddie was running,
Red was sitting, Emil was working, I was thinking, and the waitress was
serving, but in a strange way, we were all doing the same thing. Despite the
obvious physical differences of our activities, we were all living in one way
shape or form. We were all finding our own way of surviving. Life is funny
that way. What happened in the few hours left in my work day are a blur
to me. My head was spinning in so many circles that I can't, for the life of
me, remember anything I did. When twelve o'clock came around, I got my pay
for the day and hastily left the diner. I was still a little shaken from the
day's impact. I decided that instead of calling my parents for a ride, that
it would be better if I just walked home. The wind blew cold against my bare
arms. I had left the diner so abruptly that I didn't even realize that I had
left my sweatshirt there. I turned around and headed back.
When I walked in the diner I found Red, Emil, and the waitress all
seated in a booth together. There was no one else left in the diner. They
were all sitting there laughing, smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee, and
having a good time. Red flicked some ashes into his ashtray. I stood there
for a minute before I even moved forward a bit. They didn't notice I was
there. The waitress had just finished telling a joke. The whole table
laughed hysterically.
"Oh Kelly, that was a riot," Emil remarked.
"Yeah Kelly, where did you here that one?" asked Red.
"It was on the radio the other day," Kelly replied.
For the life of me I can't even recall what the joke was about, but I
don't think that was the point. I made my way forward and Emil spotted me.
"Hey Anthony, you've come back for more?"
"Yeah, sort of," I replied with a smile. I explained that I had left
my sweatshirt there and that I had come back to pick it up, then I would be
on my way. I went to the closet and grabbed my sweatshirt. Once again, I
headed out the door. I was on my way again. I was looking around at all the
buildings that were on Main Street, Athens. They were the same buildings that
had always been there, but for some reason they felt different. It was the
first good feeling I had had about Athens in a long time. I walked home from
work that day in good spirits, comforted by the feeling that for the first
time in my life, I wasn't running away from anything.