Breakfast in America
by Angela Delarmente
“Would you like ketchup or hot sauce?” The waitress serves him a couple of plates, startling him awake. He looks at her face—young, flushed, and a little distant in the eyes. He imagines that she too hates this city with its rain and ridiculous smoking laws.
“This will do.” He manages a weak smile.
What an old man I am, he thinks and hangs a paper napkin from the collar of his wool sweater like a bib. He watches the waitress go back and forth with plates of food. She drops a fork and bends fluidly at the knees to retrieve it, a plate in the other hand still balanced on the tip of five fingers. Heinrich feels a twinge of jealousy at her physical ease, which he believes is wasted on serving oversized portions of hash browns and hotcakes to already overfed Americans. Halfway through his meal, she comes back to fill his glass with water. No ice, he reminds her. She nods.
Heinrich looks briefly at the curve of her waist cinched tight by a crisp white apron, then at the sweat gathering under her arms. She looks like the girls from his younger days, with hair slightly frayed by wind and work. He is stirred by the thought that they still grew the same—these girls with cheeks, lips and breasts all blazing with youth.
The waitress cocks her eyebrow and juts out an abiding hip. “Everything was fine?”
“It was okay,” he says.
“Just okay?” She picks up a near-empty plate before him.
“It’s too much oil,” he says, “too much food. I don’t need that much.”
“We try to be generous.” She clears the table of utensils and used napkins. “Though I suppose that results in wasting food and extra pounds for some people.” She nods over to another table—a family of plump diners working over their meal in silence. To Heinrich, she gives a wink and a toothy smile.
He thinks he likes her sensibilities and the way she carries dirty plates without apprehension. He admires how her hips work, like gears to give her legs momentum. When did I turn into an old man, he asks of the sky behind the skinny gray buildings outside the diner window. It responds in the form of rain and clouds. He curses God and empties a small package of dissolvable vitamin and fiber solution into the glass of water. He reaches into his attaché case for his billfold.
The waitress returns with the check. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asks.
Yes, he thinks, you can get me some new knees, a new body, maybe a life without this god awful traveling. You can give me a night with you. We can pretend I am not old.
“No thank you.” Heinrich tosses a bill on the table. “This will do.” After finishing his drink, he wraps himself up like a baby in preparation for his cigarette in the rain.
All content in SmokeLong Quarterly copyright 2003-2014 by its authors.
Angela goes to school, plays rock music and spends a lot of time watching movies in Seattle, Washington. Currently, she is enjoying the outcome of her indiscriminate coffee consumption.
Read the interview.
|Issue Six (October 15, 2004): Money on the Eyes by Ian Kita «» Fire. Water. by Avital Gad-Cykman «» On the Inside of a Horse’s Skull by Daphne Buter «» Breakfast in America by Angela Delarmente «» Broodiness by Alicia Gifford «» The Suspect by Joseph Young «» Picnic by Robin Slick «» Rabbit Karma by Bea Pantoja «» Grateful by Lisa K. Buchanan «» Getting Religion by Carol Novack «» The Green Dress by Beverly Jackson «» Smoky Clothes by Ellen Parker «» Shopping List by Liesl Jobson «» The Nub by Jordan E. Rosenfeld «» Swallow Whole by Spencer Dew «» Dead Weight by Jensen Whelan «» Instructions for a Son upon Finding Something of his Father’s by Robert S. Jersak «» 201 Feet by Andrew Tibbetts «» Slip it In by Myfanwy Collins «» Frostbite by Katrina Denza «» Interviews: Ian Kita «» Avital Gad-Cykman «» Daphne Buter «» Anglea Delarmente «» Alicia Gifford «» Joseph Young «» Robin Slick «» Bea Pantoja «» Lisa K. Buchanan «» Carol Novack «» Beverly Jackson «» Ellen Parker «» Liesl Jobson «» Jordan E. Rosenfeld «» Spencer Dew «» Jensen Whelan «» Robert S. Jersak «» Andrew Tibbetts «» Myfanwy Collins «» Katrina Denza «» Cover Art "Torment of a Lost Ecstasy" by Marty D. Ison «» Letter From the Editor|