Laughter ala mode
Written by Diane T. Stokowski
This was written for a short story contest, Fiction 500
I sat in corner booth
with my grandpa in a small building filled with people, young and old. The room
smelled of fried everything, and coffee. I looked around wondering why my
grandpa would take me to such a run-down diner.
I was equally confused as to the name of this
establishment, “Grandpa why did they call this place the California Lunch Room?
This is Georgia.”
Grandpa
roared with laughter and yelled, “Hey Wade, tell my here my granddaughter why
ya’ named this place the California Lunch Room?”
A
short, black, fire-plug man turned, smiled revealing a missing front tooth,
“Well ya’ see I figure so-fis-ti-cate-ed people are from California. That’s why
I named it that.” He pointed to his head, “I’m smart.”
A hunched
man at the counter cackled, “Yeah and those sophisticated people can buy a pack
of smokes and some gloves to go with it!”
“Don’t
forget a ball cap!” Whinnying laughter exploded.
I
felt like the whole diner was laughing, except Wade.
Wade
frowned, slumped shoulders over, “Oh ya’ all be laughin’ when I charge double
for that plate of black-eyed peas.”
“Yeah,
because all those sophisticated people from California will run on down and buy
your mushy black-eyed peas.”
The
diner’s whistling of laughter tickled me. All the people in it seemed to know
each other. In these walls, all the worries of the world seemed to fade. I felt
like I was at a party, not just some boring restaurant.
When
all the laughter finally subsided, the one elderly man from the counter got up
and shuffled to our booth.
Grandpa
looked up, his blue eyes smiling, “This here is Mr. Sheatz.”
Mr.
Sheatz shook my hand with his bony cold hand. He looked like a walking skeleton
with a smile on his face, “Ya’ sure have one pretty granddaughter ya’ old
coot.”
Grandpa
shook his head, “yep, she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He
winked at me, “next to her grandma, no gal can compare.”
“Good
thing she got her looks from yer wife,” Mr. Sheatz chuckled.
Grandpa
grabbed my hand and squeezed, “Yep, she sure did.”
“Nice to meet you.” Mr. Sheatz nodded and shuffled off.
Grandpa still held onto
my hand, his smile subdued, “Ya’ know granddaughter, I love you very much.”
I
shrugged, “I know grandpa. I love you too.”
That
was the last time I’d seen my grandpa alive. The memory of that day imprinted
in my mind forever.
The
California Lunch Room closed up some 20 years ago when Wade passed away. I
still purposefully drive by that tattered building, still standing, words faded
on the side.
The
roars of laughter echo, sweeping happy memories held dear. A tiny little diner
named so cleverly. Though words faded and the building falls apart, memories
will remain to last a lifetime. The
California diner, where one can get lunch, smokes and a side of laughter ala
mode.