"What were your friendds like?"
Lydia shrugged. "They were my friends. What can I say? I liked them well enough, they liked me well enough. There was – let’s see, Laura, and mary, and Bethany, and Tracia – mostly girls. A few guys, geeky boys, charles and Rob. I don’t know. We talked at school hung out after school some time. Nothing fascinating. Really, Todd, my life’s been quite boring. There’s not much to tell you."
"Nobody’s lived a boringh life," Tod said softly . "and if they have, it would be interesting just to know how they mangedi it." There was a glint in his eye that Lydia found vaguely impsoing, although it was quiet and, if dangerous, only in a quiet and peaceful sort of way.
"Well, it wasn’t too difficult for me," Lydia snapped, downing the last of her latte like it were a shot of liquor.
"what was your school like?"
"Not to big, but big eough. Not quite a thousand kids.
"I asked what it was like, not how many students there were."
Lydia thinned her lips. "It was fine. Ugly builging, but then most schools are, aren’t they? The teachers were nice enough. School was a little boring, but I did okay. As and Bs. I think I said that already. There were cliques, of course, but I was=s comfortable with my friends. I went mostly unnoticed."
"Okay, then. And what was it like at home?"
"I told you already, my sisterw as perfect and I wasn’t. I don’t know. We justr – we were sisters . Never had anything against each other, per se, but never close."
"You never had anything agasint each other?"
"No."
"okay. Your mom, then?"
"I still don’t know why you want ot find all this out," lydia muttered, looking down into her empty mug. "Besides, I told you about her and you told me to stop."
"You told me about her from her point of view. I want to hear youirs."
Lydia shrugged. "She worked a lot. Wanted a better life for me and Anne, you know. She wasn’t home too much, was always a little harried when she was -- I mean, she was home every evning, which is plenty, I guess. I don’t know. She was our mom, you know? She cooked us dinner, clothed us, yelled at us, sighed when she signed our report cardsd, criticized our choice in boyfriends and clothes, laughed at our jokes… for heaven’s sak.e What am I supposed to say?"
"Whatever you want. I think you just did."
"Right, then. Are we quite fnished? What was your childhood like, anywy?"
Todd leaned back, grinnng a bit. "This is quite funny, actually. We’re sitting here outside the café sharing our childhood experiences with each other. And you are going ot be gone from work for a really long time, you know."
"I don’t care. Fair is fair – what was it like being you as a kid?"
"Well then." Todd leaned back and settled into his chair as comfortably as he could. "I grew up with my mom and my dad in this great big ancient house that was constantly falling apart. I had three, count them, three older siblings – two brothers and a sister – and thus grew up like little brothers across the glove do, spoiled and bratty." He grinned. "Like I said, the house was constantly falling apart. Dad would try to fix it himself, Mom would try to make him get a carpenter, he’d say we couldn’t afford it, Mom would say yes we could and besides it would cost more to repair after he’d gone and made it as much worse as he inevitably would, they would argue for a while, throw something at each other – seemed to make them happy.
"I hung out with the middle-tier kids – you know, not as popular as the cheerleaders and football players, not as cool as the skateboarders and rockers, and not as uncool as the geeks. I hung out, partied just a little, slept and ate a lot – that was pretty much it for being a teenager.
"So then it was time to graduate from school, and I realized, ‘well, shit, I don’t have a clue what I’m going to do with my life," Todd talked with his eyes looking up at the sky, slipping down to look Lydia in the eyes, as he paused between sentences, wordds, breaths – or as he gave a grin like they were sharing a secret joke. He grinned now, and Lydia didn’t even comment on the expletive. "So," she said with a shrug, "I decided to go to college. I’d always made ggood grades in English, liked writing – never read much on my own, but whatever – so I went ahead and applied to colleges planning to major in English. A lot of students graduating from high school don’t know what they want to do in college, and those that d often have nice, concrete reasons why – so I think I threw the guidance counselors for a loop when I told them that I wanted to major in English because it just, well, I dunno, knda, sort, don’t you think it makes sense? But there you go."
"So I liked it here, and they accepted me, and I went to college and had fun and learned some and graduated, discovered that figuring out what you want to major in is not at all the same as figuring out what you want to do with your life. And now here I am." He grinned again. "There you go, the Life of Todd in a Nutshell. They ought to make a movie out of it."
"Do you think your life was boring?"
"oh, no, not at all. It was a constant adventure, full of exploding pipes and cheating girlfriends and failing grades in geometry and skipping school to go watch matinee showings and getting caught, of learning how to swim and almost drowning and playing in really really bad bands. I mean, sure, it wasn’t loud – and certianly not movie-worthy – but that doesn’t mean it was boring."
Lydia pursed herlips and asked, "What time is it?"
"Three o’clock."
"Shit!" Lydia jumped up, Todd laughed.
"I thought you don’t like cursing."
"I don’t, but – oh god, Greg is going to be pissed. I spent about an hour longer on break than I ought to," Lydia moaned.
A brief expression of concern flashed in Todd’s eyes. "Is there going to be trouble?"
"not serious strouble, Lydia said as she tucked her chair in. "He’ll just glare until he turns blue in the face. It’s nothing, really."
Even though there was still a furrow between Lydia’s eybrows, Todd smiled. "Oh, good. See you tomorrow, then?"
"Probably," lydiia called over her shoulder as she strode away,, legs scissoring quickly.
Slipping a head inot the pocket of his bomber, Todd fingered two cold quarters.


Lydia didn’t run, but her pace as she went back to the diner was speedy to say the least . "Shit," she muttered again, as she tripped over an exposed tree root in the parking lot of the restaurant. Slightly wild-eyed, she only barely refrained from literally bursting into the kitchen.
"So sorry that I took so long," she panted, before realizing that nobody was looking her way. The dishwasher looked up and smiled, and she gave him a distracted nod before hanging her coat on her nail and setting off in search of someone for her to talk to.
It was the quietest part of the diners day, after the lunch crowd and before the dinner folks started trickling in. A few loners and a couple or two sat out in the dining room. In a corner booth was a plethora of pink, where the wiatresses sat chatting in the absence of any real work to do.
Meekly, Lydia travelled over. "I’m sorry that I was gone for so long," she apologized They looked up in surprise.
"What do you mean?"
A distant part of Lydia’s mind noted that they hadn’t even noticed she was gone, but she made herself keep talking anyway. "Well, I went out for coffee but was gone for like an hour and a half,"
"We knew you were gone," Sally interrupted. With a saucy grin, she said, "Figured you were off flirting with that pretty little thing of yours, and guess we werere right." Lydia blushed.
"but why are you apologizin?" Alice asked.
"Well, I – I was gone for longer than the amount of break I have each day and – I don’t’t know, if I’d been needed here – when I left there were still lunch people, and I really ought to have come back to help serve these folkds," she said, vaguely indicating the whole dining room. So. Um. I’m sorry."
"Lydia, dear," Molly said, "You work harder than the lot of us combined."
"hey!" marge protested."
"It’s true,"Sally said, lounging back in her chair all long lets and amused eyes. "I don’t mind admitting it."
"… and then you go off and feel guilty for taking a break for a while? When there’s absolutely nothing going on here?"
"As a matter of fact," Sally said with a smile sneaking behind her lips, "I think we might even need to feel insulted, ladies."
"Why?" Lydia and Alice both asked, simultaneoulsy. Lydia jumped at the sound of the other woman’s voice, but Alice just glanced at Lydia and back at Sally.
"Wellllll," Sally said, "the young upstart wench doesn’t appear to believe that the four of us – four of us, mind you, four fully capable adults and experienced waitresses! – can handle a room with, oh," She cscanned the room, "seven peopl e in it? That is a gross underestimation of our abilities.
"Young upstart wench?" Lydia asked in disbelief.
"That’s what I called you," Sally said with a s smirk.
"I – um, don’t know quite what to say to that…"
"How about, ‘Yes, Sally, You’re right as usual, Sally, I promise never to be so cruel again and always respect the powers fo the superwaitress, and to not feel guilty for going out flirting with guys for too long," Sally said, grinning at Lydia’s blush, "’and maybe a touch of ‘Oh, sitting down and relaxing? Don’t mind if I do!’"
"Speaking of relaxing," Alice said with a stretch, "I might as well be getting home. I’ll see you folks tomorrow."
"See you," Marge said impassively.
"Tomorrow," said Sally, with a gracious nod of her head.
"Yah, talk to you then," Molly said, smiling at Alice.
"Um. Bye," Lydia finally said, when it seemed like it might be her turn.
Alice beamed cheerily at each of them and turned and walked away.
"Chirpy bitch," Lydia said with a growl as she drank more coffee.
"Hey now," Molly said mildly. "She’s not that bad." After a brief bit of awkward standing, Lydia slid in next to Sally in the space that Alice had just vacated.
"Just because she’s cheerful doesn’t mean you have to hate her," Marge spoke, impassively.
"And don’t curse." The other women looked at Lydia, and burst out laughing.
She blushed.
"Lydia, love," Sally said, her low laugh still hiding in her eyes, "You are quite possibly the most random person I have ever met."
"How was that random?" Lydia asked, confused. "You had cursed!"
Molly grinned. Sally kept talking, saying, "Well, not random then. But surprisin ng, certainly."
"I don’t get it."
"That’s okay," Molly said, and Marge finished her thought.
"You don’t have to."
"It doesn’t really matter," Molly continued. Sally was still chuckling.
Lydia hadn’t quite gotten the hang of talking to them, aparticularly when they all seemed to be saying the same thing. It must have shown on her face, because Sally asked, "What’s wrong?"
Laughing, she answered, "Oh, nothing. It’s just d—it’s confusing the way ya’ll talk, finishing each others sentences."
"like an old married menage a trois," Sally said dryly.
"Did you say ya’ll?" Marge asked interestingly.
Looking slihgtly embarassed, Lydia replied, "yeah. I’m from Virginia, sort of, so I picked up just a bit."
"I think it’s sweet," Molly said. "But what had you been about to say?"
"What?"
"D something,"
"Oh. Um."
Sally looked up, recognition and a gleam of triumph in her eyes. She didn’t squeal – you just couldn’t see Sally squealing somehow -- but her voice was as triumphant as if she squealed in glee. "You were going to swear."
"Was not!"
"Were too." Molly collapsed in laughter.l
"Okay," Lydia confessed, blushing, "I was going to curse."
Sally shook her head. "You hypocrite," she said in amusement.
"Hey!"
"’strue," Molly said. "Here you are telling people off for their colorful language," she explained, pausing to sip at her watery lemonade,
"while all the time you are a regular little potty-mouth yourself." Marge finished.
Sally shook her head. "Honestly, I don’t know what we’ll do with you."
Lydia looked from one to another and back again. "You’re doing it again," she said.
"The talking thing?" Molly asked. "Oh, don’t mind us. We’ve just spent so much time in each other’s company."
"Working at this diner for years and years, nothing to do but worm our way inside each others minds." Marge gave an encouraging smile to Lydia, as though to say ‘don’t worry, dear, it won’t be long before you’re this strange too.’ Lydia gulped.
"Some minds stranger and darker than others," Molly said with a pointed look towards Sally.
"It’s a natural symptom of spending too long working in this hellhole, as all life, energy, and joy has been leeched from our bodies, leaving us empty shells that have spent entirely too much time together. We honly have enough pssion, intelligence, and strength for one person these days – really, you can call us Pinky and talk to us like on eperson and have done with it." She gulped down the last of her black coffe and, looking around swiftly, seized Marge’s. "Nothing to do here but ist around and, as Margie put it, ‘work our way’ into eacah others personalities. And souls, even. It’s because of me that every waitress who’s ever worked here is going to hell. They’ve just absorbed a bit much of my sin. I, on the other hand, have stolen all their purity and shall be lounging around on the clouds while theyu squirm in the sulferous zone down under." She gestured broadly with an arm, that grandoise gesture the only sign that it wasn’t an everyday and common occurance for Sally to break out into great statements on sin and souls. "Besides," she continued as she took a sip of her pilfered coffee, "there’s nothing else to do around here but talk to each other."
"There’s always work," Lydia said, supremely amused.
"Bah," Sally answered. "Never touch the stuff myself."
Molly shook her head. "You lazy bitch."
"Lazy liar, more like," Marge corrected. She appeared to be utterly unruffled at the theft of her coffee. "Like we don’t all know that you work just as hard as the rest of us. You just do it in secret out of fear that you’ll be caught."
"Would ruin your reputation, I suppose," Lydia said, caught up in their merry conversation despite herself.
Raising her chin, Sally pretended that she hadn’t heard or deigned to notice a word. Dropping that particular charade, she looked down into her mug with a grimace.
"Some people," she said haughtily, with a clearly false drawl, "are so cruel to their coffee it ought to be criminal." Lydia had the sudden urge to holler ‘Alliteration!’ but she managed to hold it in. Sally swirled Marge’s cup around, looking into it with a scowl, and continued. "Taking perfectly fine brew – or rather, the crappy coffee that we get in here, but still, it’s coffee, and that ought to count for something – Like I say, taking a perfectly fine cup of joe and then loading it – nay, overpowering it – nay, desecrating it with enough milk and sugar to – to—to feed a thirsty and sweet-toothed army of hyperactive five-year-olds. It’s blasphemy, that’s what I say, it’s blasphemy and cruelty and it ought to be outlawed. I mean, this – I daren’t call it coffee – this sludge is absolutely maudlin. It’s nauseating. It’s unbearable. Some people ought to be locked up for crimes against coffeedom. Want some caffeine with your additives? "
"Some people," Marge said, as mild and indomitable as ever, "like it that way. And some people ought to be drinking their own coffee."
"Fine, fine," Sally said with an exasperated and exaggerated roll of her eyes. "I’m leaving." She nudged her entire body up against Lydia’s, who finally realized the intent of the touch. Sally gave one more great push as the smaller woman stood and let the blond-haired waitress by.
Marge reached across the table and pulled her coffe mug back towards her, nursing it between her hands.
"I’m off to fetch more ambrosia," Sally said with a slight unapproving purse of her lips.
"Don’t forget to make it as bitter as you," Molly said with a teasing grin.
Sally sniffed and turned towards the kitchens. As Lydia sat back down, she turned and looked at the darker-haired girl. "You know," she said conversationally, "you shouldn’t listen to these fools. I’m not bitter, not at all." Marge raised one overly-plucked eyebrow. "No," Sally continued, not taking her eyes off Lydia’s upturned face, "I’m truly quite optimistic. Life is shit, but hey, nowhere to go but up, right?" A small smile graced Lydia’s face, and Sally looked slightly satisified. "Besides," she said, the drawl and affected haughtiness back, "I would never be so plebeian a thing as bitter. Never."
"Get out of here, lady Sally." Molly said with a laugh.
"Go fetch your ‘ambrosia,’ your highness," Marge said, so deadpan that the joke was almost ruined.
Lydia didn’t say anything.
She didn’t say much for quite a while, instead sitting, listening and smiling and nodded at Marges’ and Molly’s jokes and teasing banter, replying politely to questions asked of her and quickly deflecting attention away from here.
Later, when Sally came back carrying not only her mug but the entire pot of coffee that she had somehow pried away from Frederico’s watchful eye, Lydia laughed with the other waitresses, but remained mostly quiet. Sliding in beside Lydia so that the smaller girl was nudged towards the wall by Sally’s polyester hip, Sally recounted the thrilling tale of her adventure.
Even later, when Lydia had managed to suppress her discomfort at the idea that well, shouldn’t they, you know, be working?, she started to open up and join the conversation. When Sally, who should have been home long ago, scooted over on the bench to make room for the afternoon aned evening waitresses who were coming in, so that Lydia was pinned betwee the cold wallon one side and Sally’s long thigh on the other, she decided she didn’t mind the sensation and leaned forward and, laughing, threw herself into the talk.

There wasn’t anything going on at home, of course, nothing other than usual, and so after Sally had run off to her second job, wailing something about how she ‘didn’t know it was so late and why didn’t one of you fools TELL me!?,’ and Marge and Alice had left in much more sedate fashions, Lydia was still there, helping the evening waitresses. Although she didn’t make small talk with the customers, sticking to her quiet nod and smile and stock phrase, she didn’t take any more tables than was her duty and she teased Becky about her new haircut when they were both picking up checken parmesan’s for their customers.
When she finally headed home, long after when it was time for her to have eaten, when the sun had quite definitively set, indeed had long vanished over the horizon, when she was so starving thtat it felt like the sides of her stomach had caved in and were trying to devour each other, three pairs of hands grabbed elbows and collars as she tried to unobtrusively sneak out the back door.
"How long have you been here?" Molly asked.
"Um."
"How long?" Whoever had her collar, some redhead that Lydia was quite positive she had never spoken to before tonight, shook her rather more firmly than necessary.
"Um. Since 4:45."
The women squawked in unison.
"And when did you last eat?" Becky had her hands on her hips and a glare in her eye.
"Um. Ten this morning?"
"Twelve hours ago!" The working people had mostly travelled off to bars, and the one waitreess remaining in the diner could handle the rest of the much-diminished crowd by herself – but Lydia still hesitated to leave.
With a huff, she was dragged unceremoniously out the door.
Someone was giving her a lecture, but Lydia wasn’t quite sure who. "… here for twenty hours – twenty hours, do you hear?"
"Not quite," she interrupted, but nobody appeared to hear her.
"Working yourself to death, not eating properly,"
"and when you’ve only just started talking, for heaven’s sake, now just you watch and go and die on us,"
"a lot of hard work put to waste, you know that?"
"I went and talked to Greg about overtime for you." At that, Lydia looked up with shock in her eyes. Molly just shrugged her shoulders and kept going. "He’ll give it to you, of course. Crazy man tired to argue about it with me for a while, but THAT didn’t last long." Lydia almost asked her why she’d gone and done such a thing, but she was interrupted before she could open her mouth.
"Whatever possessed you to be at this damn diner for that long? Have you nothng better to do with your life?"
"I wasn’t working for all of the time," Lydia protested, weakly. Apparently the reason she hadn’t been sure who was giving her a reprimand – more like a rant, to be honeset – was because it was all of them. She gave a laugh.
"What’s so funny?"
"you do it too," she chuckled, collapsing helplessly.
Three pairs of hands held her up.
"You know, I don’t even care what it is we do, or who else does it. You need to get home and sleep."
"Why do you come in so early, anyway?"
"I don’t like working evenings."
"So why’d you work this evening?"
"I liked it."
"You make no sense, you know that?" This was the red-head, who appeared to have a perpetual expression on her face, a combination of consternation and amusement.
"You’re something else, Lydia."
"You know," Becky said, "I don’t think I’d even know your name if it weren’t on your nametag. I don’t think you introduced yourself properly when you first started working here." Here tone, so much more serious than any way any of the other women had been talking, was sudden.
Lydia stopped walking altogether and turned around. Four hands released pink cloth.
The redhead still had one fist on her hip, and Becky crossed her freed left hand with her right across her chest. Molly stood and watched with her head cocked.
"Hello," Lydia said quietly, her back straight and supporting itself. Her shirt was ludicrously wrinkled, and her hair was a mess, and there was a bit of exhaustion hiding behind the -- whatever it was – in her eyes, but she looked Becky straight in the face and held out her hand. "I’m Lydia. It’s very nice to meet you."
Becky’s face softened into a smile, and she held out her own hand. "Hi. I’m Becky. It’s nice to meet you too."
They smiled at each other until Molly interrupted. "Lydia, what are you going to do now?"
"Go home. Sleep."
"Good idea."
"What about dinner?" The redhaired woman looked shocked.
"I’ll snag some chinese, if it’s open. Or something. I don’t know. I usually get Chinese."
"How boring! You can’t do that. Let’s all go eat together somewhere."
"She needs her sleep!"
"Well, she’ll get sleep afterwards."
"Come on, Allison, you weren’t up at four this morning. She must be exhausted."
"She doesn’t look that tired to me. Come on, it’ll be fun. Don’t you want to get to know her?"
"When she’s conscious enough to be able to hold a conversation, yes!"
"Well, she is."
"She’ll be exhausted tomorrow!"
Lydia watched, bemused, as Molly and Allison argued over her evening plans. Becky looked over at her, amusement dancing in her usually cool eyes.
"Look," the taller woman said, interupted Molly and Allison, "why don’t you ask her?"
Shamefacedly, the other waitresses turned towards Lydia, who suddenly blushed and buried her hands deeper in the pockets of her coat.
"Sorry, Lydia," Molly said.
"Sorry. I forgot," Allison said, with an apologetic sort of grin.
"um. It’s okay," Lydia said, looking down at the ground.
"Well?" Becky asked.
"Um. Let’s – let’s go eat, I suppose."
"You need sleep!" Molly protested.
"you heard the woman," Allison said gleefully, "it’s time for food! And not this crappy diner stuff, real food. What are we waiting for?"
"I’ll be fine," Lydia said to Molly. "Really."
"We’ll compromise," Becky said, with an almost imperceptible roll of her eyes, when Molly looked unconvinced. "Eat somewhere quick."
"Brownette’s!" Allison appeared to be constantly excited about something. "Brownette’s is quick, and really really good, and close by! Let’s go!"
"I still think you need sleep," Molly muttered, but she followed the redhead.
Becky just shook her head and walked after them.
Lydia stood where she was for a few more seconds, then let out a delighted laugh. The last tendrils of her laugh still escaping from her mouth, she scampered after the three women, a small army of bundled pink trotting off through the night.