Mr. Bill

Hi Everyone!

I'm trying my hand in writing again. I've never had the patience for anything more than a few paragraphs, but here's a starter. It's work in progress so I'll post as I go! :)

So here goes nothing.

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CHAPTER ONE:

There is a man. This man is no relation to me; he lives in my town and used to come in the restaurant at which I was a waitress. Every morning he came in and ordered a coffee (black with two creamers on the side), and occasionally, scrambled eggs and an order of bacon. Now keep in mind I was seventeen years old at the time; I went to the high school across the street from our restaurant “Stevie-D’s”, Trenton High School. The tardy bell would ring at 7:45, meaning I would have to leave work around 7:25 so I could see my boyfriend Ledger before school started.

I had to be at work at 4:45 because we opened at 5:00. I’m not a big fan of make-up, so the presence of it on my face is very rare. My normal attire is blue jeans and a t-shirt. I don’t dress up for school: I don’t really see the point in it. So what I wear to work only differs because of the apron I tie around my waist.

“Good morning pretty girl,” Mr. Bill would say to me every morning as he walked into Stevie D’s. Every time he greeted me as pretty girl it gave me a little consolation: even though I didn’t wear make-up, he still called me pretty. He may have been an older man, but compliments really see no age.

“Hey Mr. Bill,” I would reply with the biggest grin I could muster at approximately 6:27 in the morning (I’m not much of an Ante Meridiem person). “Would you like your usual today?”

“Yes ma’am, but today I just want my coffee. We’re havin’ a group breakfast at work this mornin’, don’t wanna be too full.”

“Yes sir. Black with two creamers?”

“Black with two creamers,” he smiled, pleased that I always remembered. I came back about five minutes later with his coffee, a stirrer, a napkin and two creamers. I turned and headed to the back to see if anything needed to be done but when I returned to the dining area around, about ten minutes later, Mr. Bill was gone, leaving an empty coffee cup, three dollars and fifty cents for the coffee and three dollars extra on the table; this was the usual tip amount he left me. I was a little confused: he always came to the counter to pay and tell me goodbye. This was the last time I saw Mr. Bill for the remainder of time Stevie-D’s was open.

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Our conversations were never too long, always short and to the point. I never really got much out of him, and he never really asked for much out of me. His age was never questioned, but I always assumed he was in his mid-sixties. There was never a day you wouldn’t see him without a hat on his head; it was one of those kind of hats that made you look a little taller, kind of like a baseball cap with a few extra inches on top. Old men around Trenton always seemed to have one or two; my grandfather had a multitude of these particular hats lying on top of his and grandma’s chest of drawers.

Every time he would walk in the store (I often refer to it as “the store”; it’s less of a mouth full) he would sit in the same spot and wait for me to approach him. I was the only morning waitress so seeing me there wasn’t unusual. I’m not a morning person and anyone who knew me, knew that, including Mr. Bill.

He wasn’t very significant to me when I first encountered him. I’d seen him around town several times throughout my life. Trenton is very small and my family is rather large so the chances of my parents or grandparents (father’s side) knowing him already weren’t slim; of course they already knew him and had known them since high school. I’d never heard them mention him until I asked them if they knew Mr. Bill. They just told me that he graduated the same year as Pawpaw, never said much and dressed the same then as he does now; he just had longer, darker, hair. This information gave me nothing I didn’t already know, but knowing that they knew the man would be keen knowledge to have sooner or later.

Mr. Bill, this man that had no significance to anyone near or far, had somehow captured my attention. This man was someone who didn’t care about the petty things going on in my life. All anyone else wanted to talk about was college or boys or drama. Mr. Bill liked to talk about books, art, history, things like that. He liked to tell me stories and relate them to things going on in my life now. He’d teach my life lessons without me having to “learn them the hard way”. He’d tell me things to avoid, like digging yourself in a hole you couldn’t find a ladder to help you out, or pooping in public restrooms because chances are, there won’t be any toilet paper.

He impacted my life a lot more than I realized. That day after he left Stevie-D’s, I thought I’d never see him again. Little did I know, this man would eventually become a great factor in my ways of life.

CHAPTER TWO:

It’s been a year since I last saw Mr. Bill. I’m a senior at Trenton now and time Is FLYING by. I’m still with the love of my life, Ledger, and school…well school sucks. I hate it. I try and try and try to make good grades and please everyone in my surroundings, but I guess the saying is true; you can’t have your cake and eat it too.

Let’s start at the beginning of the school year…

“Emmy!! Over here! Girl I missed you so much! Ahhhhhh!! I can’t believe we are seniors!!” I turned to see Cassie Hubner yelling at me like a sixth grade girl on drugs.

“Cassie, you saw me like, two days ago, calm down.”

Cassie always over exaggerates things and likes to bring attention to herself, but I can’t help but love her. She’s been my best friend since the second day of fourth grade. We were both kind-of-but-not-really shy back in the day and didn’t really go out of our way to speak to anyone; this was pretty much how the whole first day of fourth grade went for both of us. The second day we were sitting by each other (but not saying a word) at lunch when Gabe Spinner threw his spaghetti on my shirt. This was the first time I’d ever heard Cassie raise her voice above what we all referred to as your “inside voice”.

“GABE YOU IDIOT!! WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING AND DON’T EVER LET THAT HAPPEN AGAIN!!” Her face turned so red I thought she was going to puke. She sat down, saying nothing more, opened her room temperature chocolate milk and sipped. I have loved that girl from that moment on.

Eventually our conversations elongated. As we learned more about each other we officially deemed each other as the other’s best friend. She’s obviously bloomed from a baby bud to a beautiful flower since, letting nothing stand in her way of speaking her mind.

“Yes, but I saw you at home, this is school . Our last first daaaaaayy of school. IT’S SPEEEECCCIAL!” She always drug her words out like this, I’d learned to ignore it.

“Oh shut up. Hey Cassie. Bring it in, hug time, come on.” She hated hugging people, but I was mainly her one exception, with another exception of humans of the opposite gender.

“Agghhh. Yeah okay that’s enough. Let me see your schedule.” She snatched my wrinkled up schedule out of my hand and begin to scan it. “Oh yaaaaayy! We have second block together! A whole hour and a half of Cassie-Emmy time, can’t get rid of me,” she said jokingly.