Page 14 of Our Little Monster
“You’re already a withered old man,” I joked, and he laughed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m still a spring chicken…” He smiled at me then. “Damn, I can’t believe you’re twenty-four, sweetheart. You’re making me old.”
Just then, the waitress walked up. She had to have been one of Mickey’s new hires because I didn’t recognize her.
“Hey guys, how are you?” she greeted.
“Good, good, and you?” me and my dad practically said in unison.
“I’m doing wonderful. What can I get started for you?” she said, and we placed our orders.
We never needed to look at the menu because we got the same thing every time regardless of whether we always told ourselves we would try something different. My dad and I both got the steak and eggs with extra hashbrowns.
While we waited for our food, we made another doodle together and placed it under the glass next to all the other years of memorabilia from our visits. We admired the photo of mom and talked about the good times we had while she was still here before we moved on to the photo of me and Sam coming here after our first hunt for celebratory milkshakes.
“I was heartbroken.” I gestured with a hand over my heart exasperatedly. “Those were my favorite boots, and all the blood ruined them.”
“I told you not to wear them, but you just wouldn’t listen to me.” Dad chuckled.
“I know, I know…” I trailed off as our waitress showed up with our food, and we ate it with little small talk between us. I had been starving, and it seemed Dad had been, too.
When we were finished, I was stuffed and wasn’t sure I’d be able to finish a whole milkshake myself, so we ordered thedate nightmilkshake. Which was just one curvy, extra-large, retro-style glass cup filled to the rim, and it came with multiple straws for whoever you were sharing it with. It held a ridiculous amount of whipped cream, and they put two cherries on top. One for both of us.
I went for mine, and he did the same. Then a familiar voice called to the both of us.
“Hey, strangers,” Mickey said, walking over with a dirty towel draped over one shoulder. Her dark hair was clipped back with a claw clip, her longer bangs framing her face.
She had warm brown eyes framed by sharp brows with a scar through one of them from a hunt she had actually gotten while with us. Golden, honey skin. She was so naturally beautiful.
She had been a family friend since before I was born. She had even been my mother’s maid of honor. She decided to get out of the hunter lifestyle after my mother passed, settle down, and bought this diner for herself when it went up for sale. She had said she didn’t want someone else to buy it and tear it down after all the years we had been coming here.
Mentioned it had been a dream of hers for a long time, but I suspected—no, I knew deep down—when my mom passed, it shifted something in my dad and Mickey. It was a pain they could both relate to, lean on each other through. They both lost their best friend that day.
The life of a hunter is a lonely one. You keep the ones you love close, and by the looks of it, Mickey was one of the only people we had left other than Uncle Theo, Sam, and our best friend Brielle.
Sure, there were other hunters we knew and crossed paths with, ones we respected. But that was all it was. There was noreallove there.
“Hey, Mick,” my dad said with a long sigh. I glanced between them before offering Mickey a smile.
“You keeping him out of trouble?” she asked.
I smirked. “Now, you should know better than anybody that trouble usually finds us.”
She chuckled. “That I do know. I’ve gotta get back to work, but don’t forget to say bye before you go.”
Her and my dad held eye contact a moment too long before she walked away. I cleared my throat, and my dad was instantly back in the moment. Shoving down whatever feelings he had just let crawl to the surface.
We pushed a straw in on either side of the cup and began taking down the cold deliciousness.
Too fast. I was drinking it too fast.
But it was too late; a paralyzing brain freeze caused my whole body to stop working as I pulled away from the shake to hold my head. My dad chuckled at me as we continued slurping down the shake before we paid our waitress and left a nice tip.
“Don’t want to say bye to Mick?” I said as we headed for the door.
Dad opened it, and the bell chimed above us. He turned, looking over his shoulder to the woman on the other side of the bar.
“See you around, Mick.” At his farewell, she offered a small smile and a wave.
