Bent over, with my eyes closed I say, "Oh man, I feel awful."
I thought I was saying it out loud to myself, but then I heard a familiar voice answer me.
"You look like shit too!"
I press my eyes shut harder for a second. It's my ex-wife's voice and the way I'm feeling right now, I'm in no mood for her criticism. Sitting up, I open my eyes and I begin to say, "What are you doing...." Then, extreme sense of vertigo overwhelms me before I can finish.
I bend over quickly, gagging like I'm going to vomit, but nothing comes out. Thank God.
I can feel Olivia's condescending eyes looking down on me while she asks me, "Now your thanking God for the gifts he gives you?"
Lifting my head, but still bent over, I slowly take in my surroundings. A little shocked I say, "How the hell did I get in here and where's my car?"
"Unbelievable." is all she says.
As in so many moments from our past, I ignore her and angrily say in a hushed voice, "You have a lot of nerve kidnapping me and bringing me into a public place like this. Don't you think I'll call the police?"
Now she's laughing so loud, the whole restaurant is looking at us.
"You know how much I hate you when you're laughing at me. Now stop it!" I demand. She doesn't. More likely she won't.
I check my pockets for my phone but it isn't there. "Bitch," I say so only she can here me.
As Olivia begins to ramble on about this and that, I sit up straight to take a better look around since the feeling of vertigo has subsided. Also, because I can't stand the sound of that wretched woman's voice.
As soon as I do, when I see the eyes of the other patrons who are staring at us because of her loud unreasonable voice, they quickly look away. Bending their heads down towards their food.
They are all a bunch of peasants. What am I doing here? Why am I here? She better have a good explanation for all of this or I'll have her ass in jail. If only she would ever stop talking.
I know, by experience, that if I interrupt Olivia, she'll just get louder and louder. So I keep sizing up the establishment.
I must say it is a unique little diner. The walls, ceiling, and floors are all mirrors. Hence the vertigo I was feeling. The chandelier, doors, and counters are all mirrored. The table, chairs, plates, and utensils are all made out of reflective glass. I'm surprised how comfortable this chair is.
In all this reflection, I must say, I'm looking pretty good right about now. I have my best Armani suit on. My hair is perfect, my cuff-links are diamond, and my last plastic surgeon was a master at his craft. My skin is blemish free and I don't look a day over thirty. I'm so handsome I bet everyone here wishes they were me.
Now about these glass forks. I want to see if they shatter. I can't have one breaking off in my mouth. I could swallow some fragments and bleed to death. I need to do an experiment.
Looking around, I act like I'm accidentally shoving a fork off the table. It clings and bounces a bit, but doesn't break.
The noise though, brings a tall, skinny waiter running over to place a new fork besides my plate and pickup the one off the floor.
I force a smile at him and shake my head as a thank you.
"You couldn't say thank you out loud?" Olivia asks.
The sound of her voice still irritates me so much I angrily ask her, "To the help?"
"You'll never change," she tells me. "If you want to move on from this place, you better."
"What does that mean?" I say with a smirk. "Are you threatening me?"
Olivia looks shocked and sarcastically spits out, "Oh, would I threaten the great Robert Baron? The man who jokingly tells stories at parties how this man or that woman disappeared when they got in his way?"
"Will you shut up!" I scream. "Do you want all these nobodies around here...."
Before I can finish talking the skinny waiter plops down a cheese pizza between us and says, "Bon Appetit."
I glare at him as I say, "I hate pizza. It's fattening. There is no nutritional value to it. Take this slop away from this table and bring me a fresh salad. Now!"
The waiter doesn't move.
"I said now!"
"Settle down Robert." Olivia says calmly. "That's all they serve here."
I stand up, straighten my jacket and say, "I hate pizza, I hate you, and I hate all these people staring at me. I'm leaving."
I storm off to the mirrored front door, pushing it open, I walk on through.
I feel vertigo once again.
I'm back in the same diner with the same patrons, with my ex-wife sitting at the same table, with the same waiter behind the mirrored counter saying, "Welcome to Hades Fire & Brimstone Pizzeria sir. May your stay and our service be a living Hell."
This is,
I actually wrote this over a three day period.
Doing rewrites everyday until I thought it was at least presentable.
Usually I write something quickly and post it right away because I'm always in a hurry.
I post it with all the grammar and spelling errors.
I think I fixed most of them this time.
I hope it was worth the wait.
Let me know.
Jim Hauenstein
And,
“Roses do not bloom hurriedly; for beauty, like any masterpiece, it takes time to blossom.”
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That is my story and I am sticking to it!
