Davis woke up one day refreshed from a good night sleep and with a clear mind. It was the first time he could recall that there were no nagging thoughts creeping into his head. He also had no plans for the day. In fact, he didn’t even know what day of the week it was and he didn’t care.
As he lay staring at the ceiling, he started plotting his day. There was nothing he wanted to do as much as he wanted to write. It was a familiar feeling creeping in. This was a common enough sensation, but now it was born out of excitement, rather than escape.
He had settled into his new city a week ago and found some semblance of a new routine, which invigorated him. He’d been very productive in his first couple of weeks in Portland, but a lot of that was finishing up open projects. He was now ready to start something new.
With that, he resolved to get started on his script rewrite. There was a spring in his step as he hopped from bed. He showered and got dressed, grabbing clothes at random from each drawer of his dresser. He opted for glasses instead of contacts and decided to work at the diner. This type of energy was great for trying out a new writing routine. Sometimes it was only his routine that got him through a writing session. Today, he could try something new.
Davis collected his idea notebook from the counter and his laptop from the kitchen table. He stowed both in his backpack and gave his apartment one last scan for supplies. He slipped in headphones and left. Two songs and one cigarette later he was sliding into a booth at the front of the diner. He paused from pulling out his laptop to take a long look out of the window. This was the only booth he'd sat in and he liked the view which it afforded him. He could see through to the end of the street in either direction. On this side of the table, he looked north towards the hilly neighborhood he’d stayed in when he arrived in town.
Edwin worked the morning shift and recognized Davis as he entered and knew he’d want a cup of coffee and water. As he put down the glass and filled the cup, he greeted him with a smile and “good morning.”
“Morning,” Davis offered back, without looking up. After a few more key clicks to fill in his password, he was logged into his laptop. He paused his music, slipped out his right headphone and then turned his full attention to Edwin. He recognized him as his server the last couple of times he’d been in and gave him a smile of recognition.
Edwin had dark hair, brown eyes and a big, welcoming smile. He was average height, but his posture projected a taller stature. He was a natural with customers. He'd been a server at the diner for three years as he went to Portland State University. He was finishing up a business program and wanted to open a business in the next few years. What that business was? He didn't know, but, with his accommodating nature, he knew it was going to be helping people do... something.
“So, what will it be today?” he asked.
“Waffle, bacon—extra crispy, and fruit, please.”
“Ah, your usual,” Edwin offered with a friendly smile and chuckle. Davis reciprocated with a smile of his own. “I’ll get that in for you,” Edwin continued. “If you need anything else, just give me a holler.”
As Edwin left the table, Davis looked around the diner and saw a few familiar faces from the last few mornings. He’d started eating breakfast at Arturo’s regularly—three or four times a week. He was then stopping in for a slice of pie one or two more times a week when the special offerings appealed to him. He was not an adventurous eater by any stretch, but the unique pies were always intriguing. And, they were always delicious. As he finished looking around, he noticed the empty pie display. That was odd, but he thought little else of it and returned his focus to his computer to get started.
He was going over the script he’d been sent, on which he’d already made notes. When his food arrived, he broke to prepare his waffle. He then mindlessly ate his meal while working, making sure to settle his bill for Edwin on autopilot. He made wholesale changes to his original notes. Just as he finished, the sound of the front door opening forcefully startled him.
“Hey Edwin, is Arturo here yet?” came a young woman’s voice, exasperated but firm. Davis sneaked a peak, but only saw the back of a young woman sweep past. Her black hair in a ponytail was bouncing behind her tapping her backpack with each step. Based on her uniform, he saw that she was likely another server at the diner. He turned his focus back to his computer.
“Yeah, he’s on the grill? Everything okay?” Davis overheard. He was listening more than not at this point.
“Now it is. I overslept and my car wouldn’t start, so I couldn’t get in here to bake before class. Now, I have to make, like, all my pies at once. No one orders them at breakfast, do they?”
“Well, one.”
“Dammit. Does Arturo know?”
“He’s not mad, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m pissed that I f-,” she paused, looking around and remembering she was in the dining room. “I messed up. He’s my uncle, so as long as I don’t burn the place down, he’s going to let me pass. But, if I want to open a bakery, I need to stay focused.”
“Take it easy on yourself,” Edwin offered, grabbing her by the shoulders and stooping a bit to look her in the eye. “You also have serving shifts and are a full-time student. Give yourself a break.”
The woman took a deep breath and nodded.
“You’re right. Thanks.”
“No problem,” he replied, smiling. “But I’m off in 45 minutes. Will there be some apple for me to take with me?”
She slapped him in the shoulder and they both laughed as she went in the back to get started.
Davis smiled. He enjoyed the voyeuristic break from work. Once it was over, his focus returned to his computer screen. He locked back in and did not notice his surroundings until the lunch rush started around 11:30. He’d accomplished a lot in four hours from a structure standpoint. He hadn’t done a lick of dialogue. He focused on remapping the arc to accommodate the shift from sci-fi to 1920’s northeast Africa.
He collected his belongings and slid from his booth. He shot a glance at the pie display and saw a full selection. He wandered over to see the offerings before departing. He mentally made plans to stop by that night for a slice of the cinnamon pie he’d enjoyed his first time in the diner. With that, he spun on the spot and left the diner to, ironically, eat lunch at home, and continue his work.
***
The pie display at Arturo’s Diner features six pies stocked every morning. The pies are usually in place ahead of the breakfast rush, which kicks off at 7 a.m. There are three staples on the bottom—apple, cherry and banana cream—and a rotating lineup on the top. Two changed from day to day on a loose schedule, while the final spot is often something new, special, or unique.
Arturo’s niece Kathryn is the baker. She grew up in Seattle and, like Edwin, is attending Portland State. She moved to Portland year-round two years earlier, allowing her to bake pies at the diner. Her aspirations are to open a bakery or pie shop. Her uncle offered her the chance to bake and earn money by serving at his diner while attending college. She wants to spin off her pie business from the diner sometime after graduation.
Her uncle’s offer was not charity, but rather a plan he’d discussed with his sister, Kathryn’s mother. She would get the education and experience necessary to run her own business. Arturo would provide the experience part and be able to offer pies at his diner. This pragmatic side of her family drove her ambition and made Kathryn her own biggest critic. She held herself to a harsh, exacting standard. Meanwhile, there was a free-spirited, creative side she’d inherited from her father. This was helpful in her baking—pies for Arturo’s, but also other creations for farmer’s markets on the weekend.
After arriving at the diner over three hours later than usual, she got right to work. She dropped her bags and slid into the kitchen, baking in her server’s uniform. She kept the pie lineup simple to make things more efficient. She utilized some pre-prepared ingredients to whip together the three usual pies. The next two were the easiest from her rotation.
Her morning had so frazzled her that she had not considered what she’d make for the sixth pie. Kathryn looked around for inspiration. She caught a glimpse of her uncle heading into the fridge for inventory. She then decided on cinnamon, hoping he’d get a chance to try it this time. She smiled as she put the finishing touches on the pie and slid it into the oven.
She looked at her watch and decided to take a break. She had a little time before she’d need to take the pies out of the oven and then start her serving shift. She retreated out the back door to a bench to get some fresh air.
Once outside, Kathryn slouched onto the bench. Her legs were outstretched and crossed at the ankles. She shoved her hands into the pockets of a light hooded sweatshirt she put on over her uniform. She was a pretty girl with black hair and brown eyes. The raven tone of her hair made her light brown complexion appear just a hint darker. She had fierce eyebrows that, when she was not smiling, made her intimidating. The facade dropped when she smiled. She has a welcoming smile and infectious laugh.
Her uniform, hoodie, and posture disguised a curvy but firm figure. This was an intentional effect. She didn't like the attention she received when dressed more provocatively or trendy. She was discerning and had a disarming charm when she opened up to people.
An alarm sounded on her watch, and she hopped up and returned to the kitchen. She retrieved the pies from the oven and put them down to cool as she started her shift. She ditched the hoodie and tightened her ponytail, heading into the dining room. She scanned the tables and headed went to greet new customers.
***
Davis wrote all afternoon and went for a long bike ride before dusk. He cleaned up and had a late dinner—sliders on his stovetop griddle and a chopped salad. Afterward, he decided to reward himself with pie. He headed over to the diner, smoking the last of a cigarette as he arrived around 9:30. It was a Tuesday, traditionally a slow night at the diner, and the customers were sparse when he entered. He was bothered to see a group of high school kids in his usual booth. The only other patron was a college-aged girl studying in the booth furthest from the door.
Davis headed to the pie display, relieved to find two slices of cinnamon remaining. He sidled up to the counter and waited patiently. Arturo was in his familiar spot at the end of the counter looking over receipts when he saw Davis. Arturo had not talked with Davis since that first night but had noticed he’d become a regular. Davis was friendly with the staff and never overstayed. Arturo didn't devote much attention his way.
Arturo's lone server on duty was tending to the high school kids, so he elected to check on Davis himself. He put down the receipts and ambled down the counter.
“What’s it going to be?”
Davis looked up and smiled.
“I’m excited the cinnamon made a comeback. I’ll take a slice.”
“You’re lucky there are two slices,” Arturo said playfully, motioning to the leftover slice. “I was not going to be happy being denied a chance to try this a third time.
"I always defer to customers in matters of pie,” he added, sliding the pie in front of Davis.
Davis smiled. He wasn’t great at playful banter, so he didn’t offer a comeback.
Arturo added a fork and napkin to the countertop. He then turned to return to his receipts when Davis got his attention.
“Uh,” Davis started awkwardly. “Can I buy you a slice?”
The request was odd and took Arturo aback. He wrinkled his brow and was at a loss for words.
“You know how at the bar; people buy the bartender a shot. I’d like to, uh, buy you a slice of pie,” he continued. “Y’know, to make sure you get to try it this time.”
“Uh, sure. I’ll join you for some pie,” Arturo softly relented. He plated the last piece of the pie and slid his plate near Davis. He leaned over the counter and dug into the smooth top layer.
Kathryn was in the corner studying. She overheard the conversation and took a break from her book to listen in. It was weird that a customer was buying her uncle a slice of pie. When she realized Arturo was going to try the pie, she turned her full attention to the counter.
When Arturo took his first bite, he squeezed the filling against the top of his mouth with his tongue. It spread over his taste buds. A wide smile spread across his face, and he turned to find his niece.
“Kat,” he said loudly, turning to the booth in the back corner. “This is great.”
A smile spread over Kathryn’s face at her uncle’s approval.
Davis had seen a person in that back booth but noticed the actual person in the corner for the first time. Her smile captivated him immediately. It was genuine and excited. It brightened up her dark eyes. He could only see her head and shoulders, but he found her extremely attractive.
“I’m glad you like it,” she replied, rising in her seat again. She saw Davis’ face and recognized him as a newer regular, though she hadn’t had his table yet. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Are you one of the customers that keeps denying Arturo by taking the last piece?”
“Uh, yeah,” he responded sheepishly.
Kathryn just smiled while Davis wracked his brain for something else to say. He blurted out the best thing that he could come up with.
“Your pies are really good,” he started—awkward, but so far, so good. “I really like the apple,” he continued. “I’ve tried making apple crisp at home, but I always forget something, and it never turns out great.”
Davis doesn't know if he physically cringed at this awkward non sequitur. He felt like throwing a $20 bill on the counter and leaving the restaurant never to return.
“Thanks,” Kathryn replied with a hint of whimsical confusion. After an awkward silence, she finished, “Well, I’ll let you two finish your pie. I should probably get back to my macroeconomics.”
Davis let out a deep breath and Arturo laughed as he returned to his pie.
“She’s a nice kid and a really creative baker,” he said in a lower voice now that he knew she was listening in.
The two ate their pie and talked. Davis shared only recent, and superficial, details about himself. He's a writer and he'd recently moved to Portland for a fresh start. Arturo reciprocated in kind. He had a little less to hide and was open to a little more thorough rundown of his history. He had a short stint in the army, went to community college and then opened the diner. He has lived in Portland since leaving the army, has a wife, Mary, and a six-year-old son, Michael.
They talked for a bit after finishing their food and parted with a handshake. By this time, the high school kids left, and Kathryn was the only other person in the dining area. Davis offered a wave and “nice meeting you” in her direction. She responded with a polite smile and “you too.”
Davis left the restaurant and headed home. He was buoyed a bit by how easily he talked to new people. He may have also made a friend. Okay, "friend" was a bit strong. He may have also made an acquaintance, in Arturo. In less than a month in Portland, he’d engaged with more people than the whole of his time in California.
Sometimes you feel like you need to make a dramatic change in your life to get on track. The fear is that you make the change, but nothing actually changes. He could have remained closed off to the world around him. He could've had his same existence, just in a new city, with more rain. That wasn’t the case. He was forcing his way out of his shell. The fresh start seemed to be working. He felt like he was now taking the opportunity to participate in life.
He was actually kind of happy.