Smiler's Club

Across the parking lot from the movie theater there was a small diner. Some might call it a cafe, but to me it was a diner. My father always told me that the owner, Lupe Esperanza, immigrated here from Juarez in the seventies. He worked at almost every restaurant around town before he opened his own. It took him fifteen years to become a citizen, and another five to get a loan from the bank, but he never stopped working for what he wanted. My father admired him for that and made an effort to strike up conversation anytime he stopped in, which he did so often. I know now that the admiration my father had for Lupe went much deeper than the simple respect self made business owners tended to have for one another. I must've eaten there a thousand times, completely ignorant of their relationship growing beneath the surface.

The last day I went to Lupe's, I remember sitting in my father's truck outside the diner as I watched him pace back and forth grunting into his phone in the empty parking spot beside. My mom earlier that morning had tried to keep me from going with him, but I didn't listen. I felt like I owed it to him to come; it had been a while since we last spoke and all the things she was saying made me feel like I didn't know who he was anymore.

As I sat in the cab of the truck, I gazed out the window at the birds pretending not to hear his conversation until suddenly he raised his voice and said something like, "I don't give a damn what that bitch wants. If she can't take the heat, maybe it's time for that dyke to push on!"

After I heard that I turned to look at him, but his eyes were focused, as if the conversation was taking place right in front of him. He had no interest in my opinion anyway, and I didn't want to cause a problem. Sure, it embarrassed me when I heard him or my mom speak like that about people – or to people… but most of the time I just chalked it up to them being very passionate individuals. That thought always helped me, I suppose.

I waited in the truck for a bit longer until my father finished his call. When he was done, he walked up to the window. I rolled it down.

"People these days, right son? Let's snag something to eat."

I hopped out of the truck and followed. His walk was fast and strong, but I caught up to him at the door. Right when we entered the diner, I saw my father smile for the first time that day after spotting Lupe. And of course Lupe was more than happy to return the joy.

"Boys, welcome! Sit anywhere you like."

Lupe shot my father a look I'd never seen before, then disappeared through the kitchen door. My father rested his big hand on my shoulder and leaned down to me. "Go pick a seat and I'll be over in a moment."

I walked through the stale room and sat down in one of the red leather booths against the windows, scratching my leg on a piece of duct tape holding the cushion together as I scooted across. The room had a gross, muggy feeling to it that day and my palms started to sweat. I looked up at the only other customer, a woman sitting across the restaurant. She greeted me with an awful smile. She was very old and her misaligned teeth scared me.

"Well, aren't you a handsome young boy?"

I mustered a smile, then darted my eyes in the other direction. A brief moment of silence passed before she suddenly got out of her seat and walked toward me. Terrified, I mumbled the first thing that came to mind.

"My father's gonna be back any moment."

She waved her hand in front of her face and mechanically lowered into the seat across from me. "I know, I know. I just like the company, sweetheart. Ain't no one in here but you 'n me. And anywho, dontcha know? Your daddy and I have spoken a few times and gotten along just fine."

I nodded. She cleared her throat. "You know what interests me about you?” I raised my shoulders and kept my eyes down. “You remind me so much of the boy that took me to the school dance in the sixth grade. Fernando Rocci… Gosh, he was a handsome young boy just like you. He was a wop, mind you and my momma always hated that – but I didn’t care too much. We had a grand ole time without her blessing.” Her silver molars stuck out as she cackled like a bird. She took a deep breath and exhaled quietly out of her nose. “I’ll bet you’re a little lady killer aren’t you? I bet you get all the girls goin’ crazy. Shoot, you have the look – just like Fernando, good Lord… My grandson don’t got the look, but you, my boy, got the look."

The more she spoke, the worse I felt… but for some funny reason I kept being nice to her.

She smiled again as she scanned me up and down. “Anytime, young man. A-ny time…”

It got awfully quiet for a moment. Her thin brows rose as she sipped at her coffee and turned away from me. She breathed out another impatient sigh that made me feel all kinds of nervous. So much so that just to end the silence I went ahead and said something really stupid.

"What did you guys do at the dance?"

Her eyes might as well have popped out of her skull. In a moment, she slapped her veiny hand down on the table in front of me and hollered with excitement. “We danced, of course! That was back when fellas like Little Richie and Buddy Holly had us hollerin’ all kinds of nonsense! Hikin’ our skirts up and really gettin’ to feel our bodies for the first time. Elvis, Brother Ray – good heavens! It was a bash.” Her eyes got smaller as she leaned over the table and spoke quietly. “Now of course that’s not all we did. We saved the real fun stuff for after. Sure, the dancin’ was fun n’ all, but it was nothin’ more than a warm-up for the night’s true adventure, if you know what I’m sayin’? Course you had to be willin’ to catch a lickin’ from your momma for gettin’ home late, but it was always worth it to me.”

I had no idea what she meant by that. All I knew was I was terrified, but in a peculiar way I couldn't come to terms with. It wasn't like a fear you get from ghost stories or the ocean or whatever else that rattles your bones. It was almost exciting. Like its hard to find words and the only words you do find get jumbled in your throat when you finally get the courage to speak. With the way she'd brought me into the conversation, she wasn't like any of the adults around the complex or at school. With her, I was just a normal guy out in public or hanging out at the family get-together, waiting for the burgers to be done. So against my better judgment – and for the third time no less – I blurted back:

"What kind of fun stuff did you do?"

A grin pulled across her face after I delivered that silly question. She sucked her tongue against her teeth, letting out a smack and her eyes tapered on me like a copperhead.

"You're a precocious little man, aren't you?"

"I don't know what that means."

"How old are you?"

"Eleven."

“Oh, you’re just about the age where you can start havin’ fun – being bad ’n all!” She looked away. “I mean shoot, I wish someone would’ve told me what to do before I did it…” Her eyes snapped back and shined with the same light as before. “Because then I would’ve had time to do it twice!” She let out a laugh that sounded like the school bell as it rang around the room and echoed in my ears. Whether by choice or by fault, I was fully invested in what she had to say.

"That's why you can tell me!"

She smacked her lips again and looked over the rim of her glasses. "So, you really want to know what we did to have fun?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

"Mhmm."

She slurped a long sip from her coffee then scanned the restaurant. “Well… first, we’d go back to Fernando’s house because his parents never minded us hangin’ around, listenin’ to music and bein’ all obnoxious. But… once they shuffled off to bed Fernando would sneak a little bit a liquor from his daddy’s cabinet, and boy, let me tell you that stuff burned like the holiest of waters – whew! I ain’t never been too fond of the stuff because my father was a drunk… but I did eventually have a cravin’ for what it made me do after, if you understand what I mean.”

"No."

"Oh, honey!"

"What?"

"You really don’t understand?”

"No…"

“Well, let me spell it out for you, you curious little man…” She tapped her long fingernails on the table. “Fernando would sneak me off to his bedroom after gettin’ me all sauced up – grabbin’ at my backside and suckin’ on my neck the whole ride up. Now of course we had to make sure we ain’t make too much of a fuss gettin’ up there so as to not wake his folks… but after that was assured we’d get right down to it. Fernando never liked to waste a moment, so he’d throw his beautiful little Italian booty down on the bed… and that’s when he would initiate the fun by makin’ me get down on my knees and––”

Her voice stopped and her face shifted.

"“Well, look who it is!” Her tone rose as I felt my father walk up behind me. “Good to see uh… you! Oh Lord, I was just talkin’ to your handsome boy here ’bout all the ways we used to skip around town causin’ all kinds of trouble. Whew – the best times! Thankfully, they’re behind me now as I’m not too sure my back can take the shufflin’.” She started to get up, then turned back on a dime. “It’s a good thing you got here in time. Because I was just about to eat that lil’ cutie pie up!” She cackled her bird laugh again and walked away from us across the restaurant. My father eyed her with a look of agitation as she slowly meandered out of the building and disappeared into the day. He sat down across from me and pushed her cup to the end of the table.