Another Evening Like the One Before
by Wayne Scheer
In my romance novels, no one ever stares at a sink of dirty dishes.
Buddy would be "a strapping young man eager to make dreams come true." But he's just a boy remembering his high school football glory days. Although it's been nearly five years since he graduated, he still sees himself as the quarterback calling plays and expecting me to cheer him on. Damn, I don't even have the energy these days to do the dishes.
He's full of piss, vinegar and dreams. He plans on owning his daddy's gas station someday. He wants to add on a restaurant and put me in charge.
It sure would be better to run a restaurant than work as a waitress the way I do now. But I know it's just a dream. I don't know anything about ordering food and paying taxes and bribing food inspectors. Buddy knows less than I do, and his daddy knows less than both of us combined.
Mr. Landrum would be happy to just fix cars and grab at my ass. He humors Buddy, but no one's going to take over his business until a car falls on his head and turns him into one of those cartoon pancakes.
I used to imagine some millionaire polo player sweeping me off my feet and flying me to his world. Now I just read my paperbacks and fall asleep while Buddy dreams.
The dishes will have to wait for tomorrow.
(After teaching writing and literature in college for twenty-five years, Wayne Scheer retired to follow his own advice and write. He's been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Best of the Net. His work has appeared in The Christian Science Monitor, The Pedestal, flashquake, Flash Me Magazine, Apple Valley Review, Stone-Table Review, The Potomac and Triplopia. Wayne lives in Atlanta with his wife and can be contacted at wvscheer at aol dot com.)