Julia buttoned her coat, hunched her shoulders against the cold and, trying to ignore the slush seeping through her Keds, made her way toward the diner. She touched the can of Spam in her pocket to make sure it was still there, wishing she’d grabbed something else to go with it. When she got out of work ten hours from now, Spam on white bread would be her and Tom’s supper, like it had been every night for the past four days. Today was payday, but her entire check had to go toward rent. Otherwise, they’d be out on the street by the end of the week.
When she reached Big Al’s diner, she passed the front entrance, went around the corner, and entered the alley behind it. For some reason, Big Al had a thing about the help coming and going through the front door, as if the diner were a fine restaurant instead of a greasy spoon. The smell of bacon and fried potatoes filled the cold air in the alley and, despite the apple she’d eaten earlier, Julia’s stomach growled with hunger. A boy in ripped jeans and a white T-shirt dug through the Dumpster next to the diner’s back steps. Beside him, a thin brown dog sniffed the air, waiting patiently for his owner to find something good. When the dog saw Julia, it wagged its tail and ambled toward her, all feet and ears and fur. Julia bent down to scratch the dog’s scruffy head.
“Hey, buddy,” she said to the dog. Then she straightened and called out to the boy. “You know what Big Al will do if he catches you out here again, Danny?”
The boy spun around, his eyes wide. “Oh,” he breathed. “It’s you.”
He was nine years old, with hazel eyes and shaggy hair the color of coffee. Julia met him last year when he and his dog were begging for change in front of the pawnshop.
“Where’s your coat?” she said.
Danny shrugged. “My brother needed it.”
“Your dad out of work again?”
Danny nodded. “And Mom’s sick.”
Julia took the Spam out of her pocket. “Here, take this. After my shift, I’ll try to stop by with something else.”
Danny took the Spam, immediately pried off the lid, shook the pressed meat into his hand, and took a big bite. “Thanks.” He broke off a hunk and gave it to the dog, who swallowed it whole.
“You’re welcome,” Julia said. “Now get out of here.”
Danny smiled and ran down the alley, the thin dog at his heels.
Julia went up the back steps of the diner, knocked on the entrance, and stepped back to wait. On the other side of the door, footsteps tramped across a tile floor. Someone fumbled with the doorknob and the door swung open. It was Sheila, one of the other waitresses.
“Where have you been?” she whispered. “Your shift started two hours ago. Big Al is about ready to fire you!”
Julia frowned. “What do you mean? I don’t work until ten on Wednesdays.” She entered the diner, already taking off her coat.
“It’s Tuesday!” Sheila said.
“Shit,” Julia said. She hung her coat on a hook, took an apron from the basket outside the walk-in cooler, slipped it over her head, and hurried into the kitchen, tying the apron strings behind her back. Sheila followed.
Big Al came through the swinging doors between the kitchen and dining area, his forehead covered in sweat, his greasy salt and pepper hair hanging in his eyes. As his name implied, he was a big man, over six feet tall with wide shoulders and thick legs. But it was his enormous belly that earned him the nickname Big Al. Covered in a greasy white apron, it hung over his pants like a beluga whale.
“Look who decided to show up for work today,” he snarled.
“Sorry,” Julia said. “I thought it was Wednesday.”
“And I thought it was my birthday,” Big Al said. “That’s why I got to wait tables and cook at the same time.”
“I’m sorry,” Julia said. “I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
Big Al grunted. “Damn right it won’t. I’m holding your paycheck until next week. Maybe by then you’ll figure out if you want this job or not.”
“But I . . .” Julia said. “Please, Al. I need it for rent.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before coming in late,” Big Al said. “Now shut up and get your ass to work.”
Julia gritted her teeth and pushed through the swinging doors into the dining area. The counter and nearly every booth were packed. Sheila came out of the kitchen behind her, two plates of eggs and a plate of pancakes balanced in one hand, a plate of French toast in the other.
“Can you cover the counter, hon?” she said to Julia. “Just ’til the breakfast rush is over.”
“Sure,” Julia said. She grabbed a pad and pen and scanned the counter for the next customer. A man in a black jacket and fedora sat at the far end, the menu closed in front of him. She started toward him.
“Can I get a refill on my coffee,” someone said as she went by.
“Yes, sir,” she said. She put her pen and pad in her apron, grabbed the coffee urn, refilled the man’s coffee, then went to wait on the man in the fedora. She turned over a white mug in front of him.
“Coffee?” she said.
“Yup,” the man said.
Julia filled his cup, set the urn on the counter, and dug her pen and pad out of her apron.
“Miss?” someone shouted from the other end of the counter. “Where’s my pancakes?”
Julia forced a smile. “I’ll be right with you.”
Just then, the bell over the entrance jingled and a man in a pin-striped suit and shiny shoes held the door for a woman and a young girl in matching blue coats. The little girl held the woman’s hand and they both smiled as they took a seat in one of the booths. Cold air reddened the identical tips of their noses and the round apples of their cheeks. Julia stared at them, her pen poised above the pad in her hand. Mother and daughter, she thought. The mother took off her gloves, then smiled and reached across the table to help the girl take off her mittens. The daughter laughed when the mother rubbed her hands between hers to warm them. I wonder if it’s the little girl’s birthday, Julia wondered. Or maybe they’re on a shopping trip. Then the mother kissed the little girl’s fingertips and Julia’s eyes grew moist. She looked for the man in the pin-striped suit, assuming he was the little girl’s father. But he stood in the center of the room, skimming the diner as if looking for someone. Maybe he was lost. He didn’t look like he belonged in this neighborhood.
“I’ll have two eggs over easy,” the man at the counter in front of her said. “With toast and butter.”
Julia blinked and looked down at him, as if she’d forgotten where she was. She shook her head to clear it. “Um, okay. Sorry. Coming right up.”
She headed toward the kitchen to place the order, berating herself for getting distracted. She had to stop daydreaming. If Big Al caught her staring off into the distance, she’d be fired for sure. But sometimes she just couldn’t help it. She was drawn to watching people who clearly loved each other, especially parents and their children. She loved seeing their faces light up with affection and recognition of their unconditional love, and the fact that they knew how important they were to each other without ever saying a word. She wondered what it felt like.
“I asked for ketchup ten minutes ago,” a woman said to Julia as she hurried by.
Julia grabbed a squeeze bottle of ketchup and put it in front of her.