Diner

 I stare out the window, using my hand to block the sun. Dad promised we would eat breakfast at the diner across the street. I watch people come and go waiting for him to wake up. I pray his mood isn’t foul since he didn’t seem to get as drunk last night.

He finally rises and stumbles to the bathroom. I want to remind him, but it is better to wait and gauge the mood. Besides, there isn't much food in the kitchen.

He returns, lights a cigarette and sits on the edge of the bed. He quickly removes the cigarette and spits while clawing the end of his tongue. With the hair removed, he looks at me. The bloodshot eyes send a wave of disappointment over my body.

“It looks like a warm day”, he mumbles.

I agree,  awaiting his next move. He approaches the window, stretches and scratches his butt. I wonder if my back will be that hairy when I grow up. He looks down at me and asks me if I am hungry. He suggests the diner and I happily agree.

The diner is small with an l-shaped counter and stools to the left and a bank of booths to the right. We sit at one of the booths. The waitress calls Dad by name as I look over the menu.

I am so excited that I can hardly sit still. Eating out is a rare; the menu choices are overwhelming. I just can’t decide. Sausage links are so cool and waffles and chocolate milk! The waitress approaches and I try to make a decision.

“What’ll you boys have today”, she asks.

“Let’s see, money is tight, so pancakes for him, and milk, and toast and more coffee”, Dad responds with no glance at me while tapping his cup.