--three-legged dog
--waitress with a nametag reading "Irene"
--two men and two women sitting at an umbrella table by a swimming pool
She sat all alone at the corner booth. She was counting her tip money. It wasn’t any more than she made yesterday but at least it was something. She didn’t necessarily need the tip money; she had lived a long and healthy life…but she wanted a little change in her pocket for something special.
She didn’t know what that something special would be but she knew it was coming. So far she’d saved up a little over a hundred dollars. She’d only been working at the diner for a couple of weeks. After her son moved out of the house, she decided that she needed to do something to keep herself occupied.
She’d been going to this diner for years. It was right outside of town, just close enough where she could walk from home but if she wanted to, she could drive. She had an old beat up Volvo. That Volvo had been with her to the ends of the earth and back. It was her longest relationship. It had taken both her and her son to multiple towns and schools and occasions and houses. That Volvo had met just as many people as she had and then left those people all the same.
The diner was also a constant in her life so naturally, she chose to go back. Her favorite item on the menu was the French onion soup. She had it at least once a week. Her son’s favorite was the cheeseburger. He’d left her to go to college, which was something she never thought that she’d be able to afford. She honestly couldn’t afford it but her son had worked extremely hard and gotten enough scholarships to help her. She thanked both her son and god every day for that.
Travis: her beautiful son; that’s whom she thought about now as she was counting her tips. She missed him. She knew that she was saving this money up for him. She knew he’d never accept the money but she thought that maybe there was some way that she’d be able to repay him for what his scholarships had given him. It was a weird thought: having her son, and his scholarships, support himself instead of her supporting him. Wasn’t it a mother’s job to support her son?
She couldn’t think about that now. She knew that it wasn’t her fault.
“Irene!” She jerked her head up from the table at the sound of her name. She knew the voice but she wished she hadn’t. The voice came from across the room, by the door. A shiver went up her spine. The one person she had tried to forget stood in the doorway.
She and Travis had been running for so long that she wasn’t sure how he had found her. Thank god that Travis wasn’t with her. If she made it out live, and there was a real possibility that she wouldn’t, she would warn Travis immediately.
Ashton stormed over to where she sat in her little corner booth. Her eyes scanned the entire room; first for witnesses and then next for exits. Her elder son stomped over to her and slammed his hands on the table.
She had had Ashton when she was only fifteen. She was raped by an unknown man and although she tried her best to care for her child despite every circumstance that said she shouldn’t, he soon got too big and too old and overpowered her too easily. She became terrified of the child and feared that he would follow in his father’s, whoever he may be, footsteps.
She put the boy up for adoption. He was still considered young by certain standards but for her, she couldn’t support him. She thought that he would be okay but as soon as he was old enough to think and fend for himself, he had come after her.
She doesn’t blame him for feeling abandoned. She doesn’t blame him for anything…but she’s extremely unsure of where his violent tendencies had stemmed from. She knew she hadn’t taught him anything of the sorts.
Her fear came from the fact that she knew that chances were that his violent tendencies came from his father. She had opened a case but to this day, it hadn’t been solved. For all she knew, he could be dead or worse, Ashton could know who his father was.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” His voice bellowed. It wasn’t loud though. It was low and intense and threatening. She kept her eyes downward. She prayed someone noticed that this was wrong. She felt drawn into herself. She felt small. The corner booth didn’t feel as comfortable as it just did five minutes ago.
“I asked you a question, bitch.” She didn’t know what to say. “Answer me!” She shook her head. No.
“What? You can give me up but you can’t talk to me? That’s cool, that’s cool. Where’s that little shit-head angel of yours? What’s his name? Trevor?” She glared at the wooden table. Ashton knew Travis’ name. He knew it.
“You know his name, Ashton.” She wasn’t shocked to hear her voice. It didn’t come out strongly; it didn’t waiver, either. She just said it.
“What did you say to me? Huh, mother dearest?” Suddenly she had an anger bubble up inside of her.
“Ashton, don’t make believe that you didn’t just hear what I said.” Her voice was steady this time. She finally started to look up from the table. When she did, she wished she hadn’t. Her breath had caught in her throat. Ashton’s hand was clutching the knife on the table.
Her eyes flickered over to the door but he shifted his weigh to block her view. She glanced over to the counter where her boss was sitting. How had he not noticed anything out of the ordinary yet…because he was playing the crossword in the newspaper. Of course he was.
She slowly moved her eyes back over to Ashton. He was crouching low, like a tiger ready to pounce. Someone could easily mistake him just leaning over the table, casually having a friendly talk with an old friend. His large torso hid the knife.
She tried to keep her breathing even and she slowly closed her eyes. She was ready for whatever was about to come.
“Irene…”
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