Yesterday's Fools

I looked at the blonde waitress as she ordered my food. She looked to be about twenty, maybe younger. She was always the one to wait for me when I went to The Hummingbird, our town’s beloved comfort-style restaurant. She always had on sparkly eye shadow and blush to cover up her pale complexion. I, for one, thought she looked beautiful. Something in me recognized her, though. She just looked familiar.

“Okay… small Evergreen salad with two breaded drumsticks? Sounds good! Also, what would you like to drink, ma’am?” She asked, jotting down something on her legal pad that they always used at The Hummingbird. For quirks, the owners said. As a detective myself, though, I didn’t know how I felt about it. But I don’t get bent out of shape about small things like legal pads.

“Uh, do you guys have Dr. Pepper? Who am I kidding, of course you have Dr. Pepper. I’ll take that, please.” I said to the waitress, whose name tag said Paige. I used to have a friend named Paige.

The waitress looked at me and smiled, writing down my final order. I’d learned over the years that I’d been coming to The Hummingbird that her mom was the main chef. I always thought that was cool. But she’d told me that she really didn’t want to be stuck here all her life. She said that she wanted to go out and write stories. She said her one goal in life was to help people. From the amount of times her eyes had sagged over the years- covered up with sparkly eye shadow- I could tell that she didn’t worry about hurting herself in order to help somebody else. She was that kind of person. And I didn’t know her name until today.

“Thanks, Paige,” I said to the waitress.

“You’re very welcome. It’s a pleasure to serve you,” She replied with a warm smile.

A few minutes later, she came back out with my Dr. Pepper.

“The drumsticks are just cooking now, so it’ll be a second before you get them. But would you like your salad while they’re cooking?” She said, drumming her fingers on her black pants, which she had said were the most uncomfortable pants she had ever worn in her life. I said yes to the salad because I was hungry. Yesterday had been my no-eating day, but now I could eat for another week and a half before I just stopped again.

I pulled out my phone and checked my notifications.

From the New York Times- Five Killed in a Mall Mass Shooting. Great.

From National Geographic- Global Warming- How Fast is it Really Happening? Also wonderful.

From Mom- Are you still coming to Rachel’s baby shower? She would just love to see you. It’s been so long. I know it’s been a long time. I don’t care that it’s been a long time.

I opened my notes app to then close it again. I opened Instagram to then close it again. I opened Wordle to then close it again. My life felt like it was a ticking time bomb- happening fast, but at a pace that makes seconds feel like agonizing hours.

A few minutes later, Paige came back with my salad. “Enjoy!” She’d said sweetly. I thanked her and then poked at the lettuce with my fork. I poured the dressing onto the salad and forced it into my mouth. It tasted somewhat good, but The Hummingbird was always best-known for their breaded chicken. At least I was getting that. Besides, protein, am I right?

I was about halfway through with my salad when Paige appeared with the chicken. My stomach audibly rumbled as I thanked her. She smiled sweetly and then went off. I noticed a tattoo on the back of her arm. I couldn’t depict quite what it was, but it looked something like a safety pin. Maybe I didn’t know as much about Paige as I thought.

I grabbed my fork, and then sighed. What was a leg at The Hummingbird without fingers? I prepared for an internal beating by my manicurist, Alicia, but for now I could actually eat without feeling guilty.

As soon as I placed the chicken into my mouth, memories flooded my brain like a dam that had broken loose. My eyes widened and I put down the chicken. This was Halley’s cooking. Halley as in Halley’s Comet. Halley as in the mother of my best friend in middle school- Paige. My eyes widened with realization.

Middle school Paige had hated black jeans, especially the one her mom made her wear.

Middle school Paige was adventurous.

Middle school Paige’s goal was to always help people.

Middle school Paige had whispered to me on a Friday night that she didn’t care how much she hurt herself to help people.

I stared at the half-eaten salad, and the slightly bitten into chicken. It was all Halley’s cooking. I remembered it all too well. Months and months of staying over at Paige’s house- I didn’t know where my mother was half the time- and I remember having Halley’s iconic cooking. She’d always dreamed of opening a business; opening a restaurant. After middle school, Paige went to a different high school. I never saw her again. Around the time I was finishing up my senior year in high school, I heard of The Hummingbird opening. I didn’t bother checking who the owner/main chef was- I’d forgotten about Halley and Paige almost entirely.

Sometimes, I would be spring cleaning and I would find a Polaroid picture of me and Paige watching a movie, sledding down a hill, or doing some other random thing, and it would spark a memory in my brain that I wanted to forget but I truly didn’t know how to forget.

I took a sip of the Dr. Pepper I was going to have to pay for and sighed. How could I have been so cruel? I didn’t even try to be friends with Paige in high school. I’ve heard of many people who can do long distance- we lived two blocks away from each other for Pete’s sake.

My mind raced as I attempted to recall the memories that we had together. Memories where I was care-free. Where I thought I was hurting but I had no idea what was coming. Where I could genuinely enjoy life. I really, really missed those days. I just wish I could go back.

It almost makes me want to cure cancer. That way, all the Make a Wish funds can go to me and I can make the biggest wish of all- to go back in time. Not to see Harry Styles or visit Disneyland, but to GO BACK.

What are these analogies?

I sighed and picked up my chicken, staring at it intensely- like in some Western showdown- all black and white for YOUR liking!

I saw the blonde walking towards me, and I could feel the air around me compressing. All the pretty little thoughts jump-roping inside of my head started pulling fire alarms and running for the Olympics.

Again- what are these analogies?

Paige looked at me and I looked at her.

“Did you know me in middle school?” I said, taking a shaky breath in, picking at the chicken with my knife.

“Uh, did I? Who are you?”

“Uh, I’m Margot. Margot Finch. You know, I came to your house everyday?”

“I… I don’t know if I remember you, Margot. I’m sorry,”

“Oh, you’re fine. Do you seriously not recognize me? All my friends look at my yearbook photos and say that I’ve not changed a bit. But it’s really okay- I just thought you might recognize me.”

“Oh. Well, maybe I can if you show me, like, a picture or something. I dunno. Um, but, anyway, are you almost done? If so I can get you your bill or you can pay upfront. You know the deal.”

“Oh, uh, maybe I’ll need just a little bit more time, thanks. Anyway, sorry for asking you. I just had a friend named Paige who uh, shared some stuff in common with you.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll leave you to finish up now. I’ll ask everyone else to keep an eye on your table to see when you’re finished. Don’t want you waiting all day.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Yep. Have a great rest of your meal,”

I smiled sweetly, feeling the bags under my eyes suddenly in hyper-focus. I rubbed them carefully, making sure not to damage my mascara. I opened my camera and then saw that I’d completed my mission. I smiled half-way and then put my phone down, it suddenly dinging with a message from an unknown number.

(923)-087-1235: hey. you don’t know me. let’s keep it that way. by the way, I know today’s your eating day. finally, am I right? yesterday was hard, especially here.

I stared at my phone, wondering what this was. Surely it was a stalker. Nobody knew about my Eating or No-Eating days. Nobody knew that yesterday was hard for the no-eating. I could feel a coldness settling into my stomach, and I lost my appetite. I nibbled at my salad and then crunched on my chicken, trying to eat what my body would allow. It was weird- the one day my mind allowed me to eat, my body didn’t. I was messed up.

I set my cutlery on my plate, which had beautiful hummingbirds painted along the edges, signaling that I was done. Paige came over and smiled, allowing me to take one last sip of Dr. Pepper and then taking my plates.

I paid the small fee (they still make good money for that very reason) and walked to my car in the brisk conditions. I felt a raindrop fall, and was grateful it wasn’t snow. We’d been getting a lot of snow recently, and I was breaking my back from shoveling my driveway for two hours straight some days. I sped up my walk and got into my car, turning on my seat warmers. I sighed and basked in the familiar warmth of my car, suddenly feeling bad for homeless people. I grimaced and blew my nose with a Kleenex from my glove compartment. I turned on my favorite radio station and started driving home.

When I got home, I sat in my car for a second, letting the song on the radio end. Suddenly, my phone beeped with a new message. It was from the unknown number.

(923)-087-1235: I do know you; I just didn't know how to tell you. meet me. Address: 234 Whopper Drive. be there in 15 minutes- the distance from your home. drive now.

I stared at my phone. This was definitely a stalker. I googled up the address- fifteen minutes away. My breath hitched as I cautiously drove, my windshield wiper increasing with the rain. I dug around in my glove compartment during a red light and discovered an umbrella. I silently thanked God and placed the rainbow- Wheel of Fortune?- umbrella on my passenger seat and drove.

When I got there, more and more memories came rushing back. It was Paige's house. I'd recognize it anywhere, anytime. The ugly yellow house color that they'd always said they would get repainted but never did, the blue door with an old-fashioned lion knocker, and the pots of exotic flowers along the windows. My eyes examined all of the memories and I sighed. I got out, quickly opening my umbrella.

I opened the door to see the blonde.

"Paige?" I whispered. She smiled half-way. I could almost see tears through all the glass, all the sparkly eye shadow. She leaned in, almost like she wanted to kiss me, but then she went for my ear.

"I've always never cared how much I hurt myself to help people. You know that," she said, pointing to her safety pin tattoo, "but I think you showed me that I need to care. By showing up to The Hummingbird, listening to my complaints. Margot, you showed me that I need to care about how much I hurt myself to help people. And I love you for that."

I looked at her, all of her. Her beauty, her scars. I grabbed her hand.

"I love you for all of that, too."