Coffee at Night

The coffee pot sat under the percolator and was filled with hot, black coffee. Dennis, the single server working at the diner this night-it was around 8:30-was stressed out, but whisking away happily at a bowl of eggs. He was 17 years old, and this was his first and only job, but he enjoyed it immensely, and wouldn’t give it up for the world. The dinner rush had ended, and now there were just a few old-timers who needed their coffee refilled every now and then. He was whisking eggs because the chefs were on break (and they were kind of lazy) and Rob, an old-timer, had ordered an omelette, at 8 o’clock at night. Dennis and his manager Marge, who was also there, but didn’t do anything but drink the coffee, called the old-timers “olds”.

Tonight also happened to be senior prom night at Dennis’ high school. Dennis also happened to have a crush on this moody art student named Kent, but Kent had gone to prom with a girl from their computer class, so that had dashed Dennis’ hopes of going to prom with Kent. Kent had blue eyes and ragged brown hair. He could rush into Dennis’ heart with the slightest smirk, or the slightest shake of his head. 

“More coffee!” called Kevin, another “old”. He was sitting in the booth next to the window with the palm tree, which he was accustomed to. 

“Be right there!”

Dennis put down the eggs, wiped his hands on his apron, and picked up the coffee pot. He glided over to booth #20, Kevin’s booth. 

“Say, young man,” said Kevin when he got there. “Ain’t you supposed to be in school?”

How did he know it was prom?

“Well, prom is tonight, but I couldn’t go,” Dennis lied. 

“Oh, I see. I see.”

The coffee made the trickling sounds of a bubbling aquarium as Dennis poured the thick, brown, syrup-y coffee. 

“In love with someone ya can’t have, ain’t ya?”

Dennis felt his insides turn cold. How was Kevin so perceptive? But he smiled anyway. 

“I’m not s-sure I know what you mean.”

“Sure ya do, uh, Dennis. Girl broke your heart?”

“Actually…it was a boy."

Kevin broke a creamer cup and swirled it into his cup.

“Aye, young strapping fella like yourself. Must be some reason you’re here, and not there. Aye…”

“Yes, well…I’ve got to get back to the kitchen.”

Dennis slid back into the kitchen to mope over his eggs. He poured the eggs onto the griddle, grumbling to himself all the while. Who gave Kevin the right to air out his dirty laundry? It wasn’t right, wasn't necessary…Ah well. This omelette’ll show him. Oh wait, this omelette is for Rob, not Kevin. Ah well.

Dennis carried a plate with a Californian omelette, two pieces of sourdough toast, and a pat of butter out to Rob, old-timey old. Rob, being rather a man of few words, thanked him and assumed an air of silent eating. 

“Dennis, customer,” called out Marge, who was reading a newspaper and sipping a coffee. 

The door bell that indicated customers had indeed rang. Dennis looked over, expecting it to be another old. Instead, it was Kent, the cute boy from his art class. His mind went blank, and he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Marge nudged him with the pencil she was using to do her crossword puzzle. Dennis had no choice but to saunter over to the entrance podium and greet the…customer. 

“H-how many?”

“Just one,” Kent smirked. 

Dennis’ stomach returned. 

“This way…What happened to your girlfriend?”

“Oh…right,” said Kent. “She’s not really my girlfriend.”

Dennis’ heart hopped in his chest. Maybe he had a chance, after all. 

“But you don’t have a chance with me, heh,” Kent was smirking again. 

Dennis smiled. He wasn’t sure how he should feel, but he knew what he did feel. He felt like a hot poker had pressed against his heart, and there was a glow deep in his chest. He glanced askance at Kent as he guided him to his booth. He felt like anything was possible, in this moment. Like he’d just hit the lottery, even though Kent hadn’t given any indication that he was interested in anything more. 

“Coffee?”

“Sure,” said Kent, smiling for the first time instead of that could-be grating smirk. 

“You go,” said Marge, smiling knowingly. “I’ll finish off.”

“Yes, she’s sure,” said Kent, smirking again. 

Dennis bumbled to the coffee station like an excited schoolchild. Like anyone around their crush, he was excited for any opportunity to interact with them. He even giggled a little under his breath as he gripped the coffee pot. Who giggles under their breath? Only a teenager in love. 

Soon Kent’s coffee cup was filled, and refilled. Soon it was 10PM, near closing time. 

“Hey, do you want to go out and get some ice cream?” Kent called out from his booth. He was the last person in the diner. Even all the olds had left. It was only Dennis, Kent, Marge, and a cook, who was polishing a knife. Marge looked at the both of them knowingly above her newspaper, which she was still reading, and her coffee, which she was still drinking. All that was left at the bottom of the coffee pot was dregs. 

Dennis was standing in the middle of the diner when Kent popped the question, but it felt like he was across the universe. There was indeed an ice cream parlor that was open late at night. It was known for being frequented by high schoolers, in particular romantic couples. Dennis felt slightly dizzy. 

“Uhh…sure, I just have to wipe off these tables.”

“Are you sure?”

“And wipe that smirk off your face,” said Dennis, flirting bravely. 

“Only if you let me do this,” Kent returned, and before Dennis could question him, Kent held him by the hand, and, swinging, left the diner.