The One That Got Away

It wasn't too long after the breakup with my high school sweetheart that I started college and a more secluded way of life. It was an extension of high school as I failed to pass most of the placement exams and had to take bonehead courses such as English and math. My mind was elsewhere. It is not every day that someone who holds one's heart gives it back for someone else…..well, not in my life. I was a miserable wreck and could not focus. My grades were sub-par and I had to give up an afterschool job that paid union wages just so that I had enough time to study . I ended up dropping a class or two to avoid bad marks on my transcript. I've never been able to live that experience down, especially since I still hear my mother commenting how I didn't have to quit that job….even to this day.

The next semester however was not as bad. I had a better outlook as I realized that "she" was now gone. I had joined a club, taken a class in tap dancing (to satisfy a P.E. requirement) and knew that my grades would improve because they were going to. I even managed to find a new job, one in a diner. I somehow fit the new work schedule into my school schedule and somehow managed fifteen hours a week. At two dollars an hour, I was able to pay for……you know, I don't think that went too far, not even back then.

The workplace was your typical mom and pop diner that catered to the elderly community. Although the work environment was usually sunny, I found out the hard way when the boss started to lump every task imaginable that it was to be the extreme example of work experience. I became the son that worked in the family business as their own children used their time to study, go out with friends and did their own thing. The positive side of this was that I got to cook, wait on tables, buy the food and learn how those wonderful dishes were prepared. I even learned how to make iced tea, restaurant style. My favorite was the meat loaf, nothing but meat, one egg and spices. But then the flipside of this was that I was also the busboy, the dishwasher and the janitor. All tips went into a glass cup on top of the cash register, I was not to pocket a cent.

There were two fringe benefits to this job, one was the fact I got to meet and greet the customers. I got to know their orders and how to please them by cooking "it" just right. I honed in on my grilling skills and learned the ins and outs of how to use a deep fat fryer……"don't leave the fries in too long or you'll burn the oil". The other benefit was that I got a meal each day, but only if I'd ask for it, and I had to ask for it every day. Usually I'd have a serving of the daily special, but on the days I was told to cook it myself I ended up cooking a burger with fries. That was when I learned not to cook with salt. Seems it wasn't too healthy for the customers. I had to remember salt for me but not for them.

There was one customer that came in almost every day. She attended the other college that was closer to the diner. She'd order a burger that I'd prepare and the shake that I would make special just for her. A smile and a "thank you" went with the business she gave to the diner and she made sure I received it every time. I was dumbfounded and all I could do was thank her and smile back. I wasn't sure if there was anything else so I started to believe that there was. I was happy again and told my parents of this person. We got to know each other and greeted one another by name. This went on for months and I knew I had to do something about it.

However, one day, right before the summer, she arrived in a shiny new car driven by this guy that looked like a model from GQ. She ordered two to go and introduced me to her boyfriend. My heart sank as I smiled and took her order. She then said she was transferring to another school and would not be back. This was her goodbye and also an end to our daily chit chats. As she left with her order, I waved to her from within the diner and she waved back. The car disappeared as the two of them drove off. I would never see or hear from her again.

Parents have a sixth sense. I know this to be true because I practice it with my kids all the time. There is little that they can get away with even now with the oldest being nineteen. But back then when I was eighteen, my father sensed that there was something bothering me. He came to me asked if there was anything he could do. I started to cry and my dad gave me a hug and told me it was alright. He told me to let it out and let her go. He knew that what I had told them about the girl was all fabricated and that it was to compensate for the loss of my high school sweetheart who walked out of my life at the end of the previous summer. At that point my father was no longer the mean guy who always punished us for beating up each other, but the best friend that I could ever have. This time my grades did not take a nosedive. I owed it to my dad.

There was really a girl, she was really a customer. She just wasn't the one I made her out to be. She was an attractive coed and the one that got away.