When Derrick woke up, he shook the dust off his work boots and wondered when the last time he went to his job. Come to think of it, did he have a job?
He was alone and it might have been morning or late afternoon. And his left hand hurt. In fact, his knuckles raw, perhaps a little bloody. He shivered ever so slightly. But he couldn't remember. He must have blacked out.
Still, he was in no hurry to get home, nor to see Mitch, either. He would ask questions. Derrick didn't have any answers.
Soon enough, he found the old diner where he remembered being with Dorian, all so long ago after hitting Henry down at the river on the 4th. But the place was under new ownership. He didn't think the service was nearly as good as he remembered. Still, he was poured coffee under the numb circumstances, and when he looked up to see the waitress..he knew he remembered her face. But from where?
"What do you want, Derrick?" She didn't look happy.
"What did I ever do you to you?" He squinted hard. It seemed to him. Everyone hated him, lately.
"Not a thing." She said barely above her breath. Maybe she had something else on her mind too.
"Oh.." He barely said back as he bit his lip. Finally, he realized she only wanted his order as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He asked for a fried egg on a burger and hash browns. She scratched down the order on the pad, holding in a very small frown.
"You, had this job long?" He asked since he was the only one at the diner.
"Long enough." She looked soured with the world. He wondered what he could do to change that.
He poured the cream in his coffee. He liked it sweet too. For a moment, he thought of his Mom, how she let him drink it, in the mornings before school when he was in grade school. For a while there, they thought caffeine was the only thing he needed to keep his day balanced.
His First grade teacher said he was A.D.D., but he mom never did anything about it.
Derrick scratched the back of his head while he stared at his raw left hand. He couldn't think what could have happened. It was like a blank space in time. Perhaps, it didn't matter.
"I guess you got in a fight, again." She came back to warm his cup with more steaming coffee.
"Now? Why would you say that?" He squinted.
"That's what you do." She was straight lipped. Her eyes looked so sad. "I went to Van's funeral."
"Van?" Suddenly, it came tumbling back to him. "Oh, the party, you were there." He cracked a smile as if he'd forgotten her so easily.
"You, should have come."
He shook his head, no. They did get out alive. Sure, he felt kind of bad for the football player he knew in high school. He just sighed. She walked away.
"Who are you, again?" Derrick asked as she looked back at him. Why did she have to be such a mystery?