“It’s over now.” She leaned back in the wooden chair at the café, having explained to her boyfriend of almost six years that she was moving on. No. He didn’t do anything wrong, per se. Did he do anything right? Other than never asking for her hand in marriage? No. Not at all. But then again, when does a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship go from serious to only friends? The second you tell your girlfriend that the possibility of marriage isn’t even a remote prospect. “Did you ever want to marry me?” She asked Donovan.

To be fair, Donovan wasn’t all that smart regarding women, much less having a serious relationship. Katie didn’t like ultimatums, but his listening skills were less than stellar. Something about his attitude. His general disposition. All of it said he wasn’t listening. Maybe it was the iPhone in his hand. Or the way his attention drifted when sports were on the television. Basketball. Football. Baseball. Hell, even golf got his attention away from Katie. And it’s not like he didn’t like her. It’s just that his attention was being directed elsewhere. His drinking buds and the guys he worked with on the farm, doing chores and helping out his neighbors. That consumed his attention. Added to that, any sporting event on television. Nothing like Katie. But, hey, he loved being in her company. She was fun to hang out with, and his guy friends? They were all jealous of him. They all thought he had lucked out, which he had, a fact Katie reminded him of today.

“You were lucky to be with me. But now?” Crossing her arms, she glared at him. “Now? It’s over.”

“But babe, honey!” Donovan protested. “You can’t be serious. We’ve got those dance lessons coming up in a week.” He flipped through the calendar on his phone, pulling up the date – July 8.

“Dance lessons, Don? That was a week ago.” She stood up, pushed the chair back, and said, “Goodbye, Donovan. I am not going to dance lessons with my ex-boyfriend.” Katie stormed out of the small country café. Janice’s Diner had its fair share of makeups and breakups, but this one wouldn’t be remembered as significant. Donovan sat, running his fingers through his hair, not that he had much hair to speak of. It was short buzzed close to his head, like most of his buddies. Almost military cut, that’s the way he liked it. Nothing to worry about messing up. Nothing to get oily or greasy.

Jack and Stuart, two of Donovan’s closest friends, let their hair grow longer than Donovan’s. Jack told the local barber, Terrance, to use a five guard on his head, whereas Stuart refused to let clippers anywhere close to his head. The sound of the buzzing set his teeth on edge. If the guys went to the barber around the same time, which wasn’t planned, he’d sit outside and wait until Terrance finished with the buzzing clippers. Stuart was a little strange to the rest of the small town community of Spiner. He wasn’t from the area but lived there since his fourth birthday. In a few weeks, it’d be his thirty-second birthday. But he still wasn’t considered a local.

Donovan pushed away his plate with a half-eaten burger and a few leftover fries. Katie didn’t order any food. It should’ve been a red flag for Donovan because Katie ate constantly. Working as a nurse for a veterinarian, she was always hungry. Part of it was her work schedule. The other part was she burned calories faster than she ingested them. She didn’t even bother to lift a few fries from his plate. If Donovan paid attention, he’d have noticed. But he didn’t.

“So, that didn’t look like it went all that well, honey, did it? Youns doin’ okay?” Kathy lit a cigarette and sat down on the opposite side of Donovan. “Look, kiddo,” Kathy said, exhaling a blue cloud over her head, “youns gonna bounce right back. ‘Sides, that girl?” she pointed to Katie driving out of the parking lot, “she is outta your league, boy. Whatcha thinkin’ datin’ a girl like that, anyways?”

Donovan shook his head, scowling at the waitress sitting across from him. He, Stuart, and Jack grew up with Kathy waiting on them. She was a good woman, good at knowing exactly what was going on in the small town. She wasn’t nosey, not like the church ladies from the local church, Pastor Theodore keeping them in check – as best he could. He crossed his arms and slumped in the booth. “Kiddo, I’d get ya a beer, but youns know the law here in Spiner – needs a liquor license, and I ain’t got one.” She stabbed out the cigarette and cleared his plate when she stood. “Listen, youns want anythin’ else to eat? My treat. I’m buyin’. Hell, kiddo. Tell you what. I’ll comp your meal, too.” Kathy winked at him. “Ain’t nothin’ like a breakup here at Janice’s, is there? No, sir. Aint’ nothin’ like it.” Kathy shook her head, dumped the food into the nearest trash can by the kitchen door, and carried the plate into the kitchen. “Cookie! You got that walk-in cleaned out yet? No? Well, what are you waitin’ for? Get on it.” If Donovan was paying any attention, he would’ve heard the plate hit the bussing tub in the kitchen.  

Donovan didn’t smoke, but the small diner was a smoking establishment. The original owner, Janice, smoked like a chimney for over forty years in the building. It was a different time back then, and in all the years she ran the place, she did not consider making it a nonsmoking restaurant. You could smoke in the kitchen, around the food, and while taking orders. Some folks said the Zaterelli’s, a crime family a syndicate run out of Portland, Oregon, infiltrated the diner through known criminal associates and laundered money through Janice’s small cash-based business. If they did, and Janice knew about it? She would’ve put an end to that real quick like. Crime family or not. Janice wasn’t a woman to be trifled with. Today, Donovan seriously considered asking Kathy for a smoke. And, knowing Kathy? She’d have given it to him.

Donovan sulked in the booth, staring out the window, watching a car and a truck pull up. An older, faded red Ford F-100 pickup and a silver four-door 2003 Buick Century pulled up to the diner’s front door. The pickup driver hit the brakes hard enough to kick up an astronomical amount of dirt, dust, and debris. Stuart waited for the dust to dissipate before opening the Buick’s door. A thin layer of dust covered both the truck and the four-door car. “Sheesh, Jack. Think about hitting the brakes a bit earlier? Maybe stopping before you hit the dadburn building?”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with the way I drive, Stu.” Jack’s southern drawl put Kathy’s to shame.

“Youns gonna park and eat somthin’?” Kathy came out the front door before either man could open it. “Jack, youns gonna get the whole dang place covered in dust. I’m a gonna make you come in here, and dust e’erythin’ in the place youns do it again, you hear me?” She had another cigarette lit, taking a massive drag and exhaling in the direction of both the men.

“I ain’t doin’ no such thing, Ms. Kathy.”

Kathy’s finger pointed right at Jack, one eye closed, teeth clenched around the butt of the smoke. “You ain’t gonna talk back ta’ me liken that, Jack. I knew youns mama and daddy before youns was born. I remember youns in diapers, so you best watch yourself outchere. You got me?”

Jack lowered his eyes and nodded yes. “Yes, ma’am. Won’t happen again.”

“Best not, Jack. Youns want me to tell yous mama how you drove up in here today?” Kathy crossed her arms, glaring at Jack and Stuart. “Don’t you be lookin’ at me all disrespectful like, Stuart Todd Penner. I knows youns mama too. And believe you me, she wouldn’t tolerate you actin’ disrespectful. Likely she’d wash youns mouth out with soap, grown or not, ain’t that right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Stuart said. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Ain’t no thing. Gets inside here so’s I can go tell Cookie whatchall want.” Kathy held the door open for both men, letting them walk past her as she continued to smoke without her fingers touching the cigarette.

“Don, hey, guy.” Stuart looked around and, not seeing Katie asked Donovan the obvious. “Where’s Katie at?”

Donovan’s head hit the table, and Jack shook his head. “I told you she was outta your league, hoss.”  

“You don’t know when to shut up, Jack.” Stuart glared at his friend, patting Donovan on the shoulder. “Hey. Hang in there, bud. It could be worse, you know? She could’ve broken up with you in the middle of your dance class like Geri did to Nate.” Stuart wasn’t all that great at social interactions and worse at gossip.

“Geri didn’t do nothin’ wrong, Stuart,” Kathy said, bringing out two glasses of water for Jack and Stuart and a refill for Donovan. “Ya’ll don’t know the truth about all that. And youns,” Kathy’s finger wagged at all three men, “If you knows what’s good for ya? Keep to youns business. Minds your owns, not any of those women. Like Geri,” Kathy smacked Jack upside his head. “Or Katie, Donovan. Leave ‘em alone. Let them be. Find another one and be on with youns life. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack and Stuart said in unison. Kathy plopped down next to Jack, forcing him to scootch into the inside of the booth. It made Jack uncomfortable, and his face said as much. But talk back to Ms. Kathy? That wasn’t something he was willing to do.

 “Now, whatcha want, boys?” An unlit smoke hung from Kathy’s red lipstick. It wasn’t stuck, but it would require a hard yank to unstick it from her bottom lip. Instead of peeling it from her lip, she lit it, letting her saliva moisten the butt, loosening it all on its own.

Jack started to answer, but Kathy interrupted. “Hamburger, no onions, no cheese. Lettuce and one slice of tomato. French fries and a chocolate shake, right?” Kathy pointed at Jack with a finger gun. Jack nodded yes. “And you,” she looked Stuart up and down. “I’m bettin’ yous want onion rings, not fries, and a cheeseburger with bacon, no green stuff, including pickles, lettuce, and, of course, no tomatoes.”

Stuart smiled, nodding yes. “Please, Ms. Kathy,” Stuart answered, even though Kathy didn’t ask a question. “Yes, please, Ms. Kathy,” Jack parroted his friend. The goal was to be on Kathy’s good side. They heard about Janice and how she ran the diner. Kathy was nicer than Janice. At least that’s the rumors they heard from the old timers that were still alive, like Floyd and Jim.

“Good enough,” she said, sliding out of the booth, giving Jack more room and letting him breathe. “Cookie? You gots that food goin’? Get your rear in gear and get on the grill!”

“Yes, Ms. Kathy! I’m on it.”

“Ms. Kathy?” Jack asked.

“Yes, sir, Jack?”

“How’dya know what we was gonna order? It’s like you had it all figured before we came in.”

“Boy! I always know what everybody is gonna order. Least those who live up in here,” she winked at him. “’Sides, ya’ll order the same thing every time! Except for the occasional change up between fries and onion rings, eh, Stuart?”

Stuart smiled and shrugged.

“I’ll be back with ya’lls food when it’s done.” She walked over and tapped Donovan on the head. “You want anything else, Donovan?” She reached under his chin, pulling his head up long enough to see his eyes. They were glassy like he was on the verge of tears but hadn’t yet cried them out. “Gotcha. Vanilla milkshake. Comin’ up.”

She extinguished her cigarette, for the third time in less than ten minutes, into the ashtray on their table. Before she walked back into the kitchen, she picked up the ashtray and took it with her.