Issue 03
flash fiction
“The Rock Star Grill Operator”
by Sandra Cimadori
“Evening Darkness” by John Redkoles
The boy wants so badly to believe that he’s found her. When he has all the facts, he skips school and hitchhikes to the next town to see her. No one will miss him. No one has ever cared.
What he finds is a queen, tall, cool, serene, dominating the narrow kitchen behind the counter where greasy waitresses scurry. The red-and-gold lettering on the back of her dark blue uniform proclaims that she is the Rock Star Grill Operator. He sits at the far end of the counter and studies her profile, trying to see himself in her.
Shawna, a waitress with a blue rose tattoo crawling down her arm, brings him a Coke.
“Can’t I get you nothing else, hon?”
The boy shakes his head.
Waitresses yell orders in code… Drop three hash browns, scattered! Mark order scrambled! Pull one bacon!
The Rock Star Grill Operator manages her domain calmly, competently, never looking at the chicken scratch orders lining the butcher block. Every word that flies across the kitchen is apparently stored in her head. Eggs and bacon and hash browns sizzle on the griddle, waffles bubble in the irons, raisin bread pops out of the toaster. “Order up” is the only thing she says.
He marvels at her. She is beautiful, more beautiful than he dared to imagine all through his sad childhood. The boy wants so badly to believe that he’s found her.
Shawna leans on the counter, chitchatting with a burly customer.
“So I told the sorry son-of-a-bitch, I didn’t need you yesterday, I don’t need you today, and I sure as hell won’t need you tomorrow.”
The Rock Star Grill Operator looks over at her and smiles.
“Hon, you sure I can’t get you nothing else?” Shawna asks the boy again. She seems concerned. “Our grits are the best. They’ll fill you up, and they only cost a dollar and a quarter.”
He shakes his head, pays for his Coke, then goes to the bathroom. When he comes out, the Rock Star Grill Operator is gone. His empty stomach lurches as if he is falling through space, and he leaves the diner not knowing what to do next—damn, it’s all so hard. He wants to cry.
But there she is, smoking by the dumpster. This is his chance. His heart is beating so fast he thinks he might pass out as he approaches her.
“What?” she says and blows smoke in his face. Her voice is flat, emotionless.
He looks into her eyes. It’s like looking into a mirror…the boy wants so badly to believe that he’s found her.
He says, “Does the date May 20th mean anything to you? It’s my birthday.”
Her eyes slam shut. “Well, happy fucking birthday to you.”
She tosses her cigarette and walks away.
*
Sandra Cimadori was born in New York and grew up in South Florida in a multilingual home. She graduated from Florida State University. She teaches and writes, dividing her time between North Carolina and Florida.
In addition to being an accomplished wildlife photographer, John Redkoles is a United Methodist pastor, a retired New Jersey State Trooper, and a beekeeper. He publishes a monthly newsletter called The Circuit Rider and his work has appeared in God in Nature, Birds and Blooms, and Proptalk Magazine. John’s photographs have been used as artist references in several publications. He lives in New Jersey with his wife, who is an artist, and has two grown daughters. Visit John on Instagram @john.redkoles to see more of his unique work.