He remembered how they used to talk about opening a bookstore together one day, the kind with beanbag chairs and walls covered in art from local kids. Seeing her here carrying plates instead of books made his stomach twist. But what unsettled him more was how easily she seemed to hide whatever was going on behind that smile. And he was starting to realize he wanted to know why. Renee came back a few minutes later setting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of him.
“On the house,” she said with a little shrug. “You don’t have to do that,” Matthew replied. “I want to,” she said sliding into the booth across from him again. “It’s not every day an old friend walks in here.” He studied her face while she poured him more coffee. There were faint lines near her eyes now, the kind you get from both laughter and worry. Her hands were rougher than he remembered and a small scar ran across the top of her knuckle.
“So,” she began stirring a packet of sugar into her own mug. “What’s real estate like? You flipping houses or something bigger?” “Bigger,” he said cautiously. “Apartments, commercial properties, that sort of thing. ” Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “That sounds intense.” “It has its moments.” She nodded slowly. “Good for you. You always did work hard. Remember how you used to help me with history even though you hated it?” He chuckled. “Still do. I only helped because you threatened to stop helping me with math.” Her laugh was real this time, not the polite kind.
“True. ” She sipped her coffee then looked down at the table like she was deciding whether to say something. “It’s weird seeing you here. Makes me think about all the stuff we used to talk about.” “Like the bookstore?” he asked. “Yeah.” She smiled faintly. “Guess life had other plans.” Matthew wanted to ask what those plans were, but he could feel the weight behind her words. It wasn’t the kind of thing you push for in a diner full of people who might overhear.
“How long have you been here?” he asked instead. She shrugged. “A while. Work’s steady. Pays the bills.” The way she said it, flat with no conviction, told him more than any long explanation could. A group of noisy customers walked in and Renee glanced toward them, her smile snapping back into place like a mask she’d worn a thousand times. “Duty calls,” she said sliding out of the booth. As she walked away, Matthew picked at his toast, his mind spinning.
This was Renee, the girl who once told him she was going to own a business, travel the world, and never settle for less. But here she was, settling for less every single day. And he couldn’t stop wondering what had happened to her dreams. Matthew stayed in that booth longer than he meant to. He watched Renee work the room like she’d been doing it forever, balancing plates, dodging a kid running between tables, laughing at an old man’s joke she probably heard a hundred times before, but there were cracks in the act.
When she thought no one was looking, her smile faded. She’d paused to rub her wrist like it hurt. She’d stare out the front window for just a moment too long before forcing herself back into motion. When the crowd thinned, she came back over leaning against the booth’s edge. “You still in touch with anyone from back home?” she asked. “Not really,” he said. “Life got busy.” “Yeah, same here. ” Her gaze dropped to the floor for a second.
“Except busy looks a little different for me.” He didn’t miss the edge in her voice. “You want to talk about it?” She hesitated then shook her head. “Not here, not with Earl listening.” She tilted her chin toward the cook in the back who was clearly trying to look busy while leaning half out the kitchen window to eavesdrop. Matthew grinned slightly. “You free after your shift?” Her eyes darted toward the clock. “If I can get someone to cover the last hour, maybe, but” she trailed off biting her lip.
“Why? What’s this about?” “Just catching up,” he said, but he knew that wasn’t the whole truth. He wanted to know why she was here, what had happened between their teenage dreams and this diner. Before she could respond, a man in a stained trucker cap waved his empty coffee mug in the air. “Renee, refill!” She sighed. “Story of my life.” As she walked away, Matthew noticed the limp in her step, subtle but there. Something told him her life had been harder than she was letting on, but he had no idea just how deep that hardship went until she sat across from him later and told him everything.
The diner was nearly empty by the time Renee slid into the booth across from Matthew again, this time without her apron. Her hair was down now, framing her face, and she looked a little less like the waitress everyone ordered around and a little more like the girl he remembered. “I’ve got 30 minutes before my relief shows up,” she said. “You wanted to talk. So, talk.” Matthew leaned forward. I wanted to see how you’ve been, really been. She gave a small humorless laugh.
