Flo's Diner

A love story of sorts. Love is not always what we consider romantic love. In this world people have different needs and sometimes fulfilling those needs is the purest form of love.

“Order up”, called Ned, placing the plate of freshly prepared eggs over-easy, golden hash browns, and a side of bacon in the small window that connected his kitchen area to the front of the diner.

 

“Thanks hon,” called Flo, as she turned from talking to the man at the counter and walked over to the window to retrieve the order. “Ned, where is your head?” Flo barked, more like she was chastising a child than a grown man. “You gonna serve this breakfast plate without one of your world famous biscuits? Now, just how is Frank supposed to live a proper life without one of those biscuits?”

 

Ned quickly pulled open the warming drawer and picked up two slightly browned warm biscuits. As he placed them on the plate he said to Flo, “Tell Frank that I would never forget his biscuit and the extra’s on me.”

 

As Flo reached up to grab the plate, light coming through the front window of the diner reflected off something on Flo’s wrist, sending a bright shaft of light directly in Ned’s eyes. Ned turned his head to shield his eyes from the glare and he heard Flo in the front, “Frank, ol’ Ned nearly forgot your biscuit, so he gave you an extra. You know how he is. Not that you would have known that he had forgotten it unless you heard me bendin’ his ear.”

 

Ned turned his back to the window and sauntered back to grill, not paying much attention as Flo’s voice trailed off into the more normal volume and velocity of chitting and chatting that she did with most customers. “Hope Frank gets a chance to enjoy his meal with a little peace,” thought Ned, but he knew Flo would be talking his ear off until the meal had been finished, the bill had been paid, the tip had been left on the counter and Frank had walked out the door. “Is that all you think of our food and my company Frank? Seriously, you should learn better manners. That tip is almost an insult,” Flo would say. Then Flo would remind him to have a good evening and come back again tomorrow. Never failed, always the same, and Frank would be right back here about the same time tomorrow. It was just the way the world was supposed to be, at least in these parts.

 

As Frank was driving out of the lot Ned walked out to the front of the diner. “Kinda slow today,” said Ned. “You need me to help out here ‘til we get another customer?”

 

“Ned, that is so sweet of you. Of course, I can always use your help,” chirped Flo, pausing from the tune that she was humming only long enough to deliver the brief sentences, fitting them into both the rhythm and the melody of the tune as if they were lyrics to the song. Flo smiled at him, that charming smile that would melt the polar ice caps if she got anywhere near them. The smile that she could use at any time to get Ned to do just about anything she wanted. She pushed a white soapy cloth his way, “You finish up wipin’ things down and I’ll refill the containers.”

 

As he moved to take the cloth from her hand he saw the dazzlingly bright array of glimmering stones around her wrist. Flo recognized that look on Ned’s face. She always recognized when she was the center of attention, it was particularly easy for her to sense that from Ned. “Whatta ya think of that, hon? Ain’t it just the prettiest thing you ever did see? Got it up in town from the jeweler, picked it up earlier today,” Flo beamed. When she was center stage she lit up the whole stage and now she had the perfect accessory to match her customary performance.

 

“It’s very nice Flo,” Ned said in soft voice. He was wondering how she managed to work this deal. Flo made a decent living from the diner, but it was not the bustling place it once had been. Somehow though, Flo always found a way to get what she wanted, even if it was only for a little while. If in the end she would have to take it back to the jewelers it wouldn’t be the first “prettiest thing ever ” she returned to the jeweler, of course he would turn the deal in his favor by buying it back at a deeply discounted “used item” price.

 

“Let’s get to it then, Robert’s coming by later and I want this place to be a vision to remember when he gets here,” Flo said as she spun away on the tips of her toes like a ballerina on stage. She turned up the volume on the music and they both set about creating the vision.

 

A little while later the door of the diner flew open, announcing the arrival of Robert. “How are my favorite diner people?” Robert trumpeted. He could not outshine Flo, but he was definitely her equal in flare and sparkle.

 

“Now, you come right over here and sit at your favorite corner seat,” gushed Flo. “Ned! Ned, get yourself out here. Come see Robert.”

 

Ned sauntered out from the kitchen at the rear of the diner, “Bobby, how's the college man?”

 

Flo glowered at Ned, “Ned, you know I don't like that. I would appreciate it if you would refer to him by his proper name.”

 

“Ah, Bobby don't mind,” quipped Ned, “and after all it is his name.”

 

Truth is that Ned is the only person that has the honor of addressing Robert by any other name. Flo made certain that everyone knew that his proper was Robert. Not Bob, Rob, or definitely not Bobby. In Robert's mind though Ned had earned the right to his special privilege. Earned through hours of teaching, listening, advising and befriending an eager kid that idolized his every move. Teaching him how to cook. Listening to him late into the evening, sitting across the counter, whenever Robert had a life altering teenage crisis. Always advising in Ned-isms that started, “Now I don't know much, but it seems to me.”

 

“What’ll it be Bobby-boy?” Ned asked inquired, with a knowing smile across his face.

 

“Like you have to ask?” said Robert, “How could I leave tomorrow without another round of Ned’s World Famous French Toast?” As he looked up at Ned from his counter seat, wrapped in the warmth of Ned’s smile, Bobby thought that he see a sparkle in Ned’s eye.

 

Bobby had actually invented the term, “Ned’s World Famous French Toast.” He would tell all of the customers, “Best the world over. Good for the soul. Cures what ails you.” He was so insistent on that phrase that Flo actually put it on the menu when she had new ones printed up a few years ago.

 

Robert was the third of four children, and the only son in the lot. He was Flo’s pride and joy, particularly now that he was off to the big university in the morning. Flo could never tire of telling people about her “college man.” Yep, Robert gave her plenty to brag about, and Flo liked to brag.

 

Fortunately Robert had turned out okay, Ned thought. Never letting any of Flo’s yammering go to his head. Somehow, he had developed a more balance nature, so different from Flo’s need to be center stage. Perhaps it was because he had learned to live in that shadow, thought Ned. Then again, perhaps. No, he knew better. But the thought would not leave his mind. Perhaps Bobby had learned more than cooking from Ned. Perhaps just a little. Ned might allow himself to think that, just a little. Bobby was the closest thing to family that Ned knew, but still he was not family, and never would be. So, instead of the love that a father might have for his son, Ned would only allow himself these little feelings of closeness, and the joy of making French toast.

 

“Ned’s World Famous French Toast.” Ned never understood all of the fanfare. As he mixed the ingredients for the batter, eggs, milk, touch of sugar, vanilla, and Ned’s “secret” touch, just a little nutmeg. It is so simple, thought Ned, and even Bobby did a good job at making it when helping out in the kitchen. “Famous” thought Ned, as he placed a couple of slices of the bread that he had just dredged in the batter on the hot grill. They sizzled at first and then calmly surrendered to the heat of the grill slowly becoming the color of a golden sunset. Ned had already started some potatoes before the French toast and he now flipped them over with a single fluid stroke of his spatula. Then he cracked a couple of eggs onto the grill, sprinkling them with just a touch of salt and pepper before covering them with the old lid he had salvaged from a broken skillet some twenty years ago.

 

“Skillets” thought Ned, they were an abomination. Ned had his grill and that was the only way to cook. He was a maestro at the grill, orchestrating any food into a harmonious melody of a meal. Tempo, timing and intensity all needed to be closely coordinated to arrive at the tremendous finale of a dish well served. Like any maestro, Ned did this more by instinct and feel than by anything else. The simple wonder of food, filled with love.

 

“Order up,” shouted Ned, as he entered the front of the diner carrying two plates. “French toast, side of eggs and hash browns. Can’t have you going off to the big city university without a good helping of Ned’s best,” as he placed it down in front of Bobby. Ned saw in Bobby’s eyes a bit of a sparkle and he said, “Enjoy.”

 

“Thank you,” Bobby sighed, “for everything.”

 

“I’ll be back in the kitchen if either of you need anything,” Ned said softly as he returned to his sanctuary at the rear of the diner. “Thank you Bobby,” Ned whispered under his breath, “for everything.”

 

It wasn’t long after that Flo walked back into the kitchen, carrying now empty dishes picked clean by Robert.

 

“Here you go Ned,” sang Flo, “He ate everything speck of food. Plates so clean you hardly need to wash them.” She sat the dishes in the sink. “Ned, with Robert leaving for school tomorrow and all, and we haven’t exactly been busy lately, I thought we would close up early. That okay with you?”

 

“I guess Flo, whatever you think is best. You are the boss.” Ned didn’t even look her way when he answered.

 

“Before we go I wanted to make sure you got your pay,” Flo said in an unusually soft tone. “Now, you know that it has been mighty slow lately. So, I am afraid I just can’t give you your full pay Ned. You know I would, if I could, but I hope this will hold you over ‘til the business picks up.” As Flo handed him the envelope of cash, all he could notice was the sparkly new bracelet on her wrist. “I am truly sorry, hon.”

 

“I know Flo,” said Ned, “Don’t worry. It’ll be okay. You and Bobby gonna to be goin’ now?”

 

“Yes, I hope you don’t mind,” Flo’s voice began to return to normal, “Would you mind terribly much closin’ up?”

 

“Not at all,” smiled Ned, “Just let me say goodbye to Bobby. Tell him I’ll be out in a moment.”

 

“Okay, I’ll head out to the car,” Flo chirped, “Let you two say your proper goodbyes.”

 

As Flo floated out the Kitchen to the front of the diner Ned reached into the envelope and pulled out a few twenties, which he stuffed in his pocket. Then he went to see Bobby out front. Flo had already gone out to the car, most definitely planning their every minute for the rest of the evening.

 

“Hey Bobby, got something for you.” Ned held out the envelope.

 

“Ned, I can’t take that. You need it,” Bobby protested.

 

“Nah, I’m fine,” Ned said with a half smile. “I want you to take this and when you find a nice girl, you take her out someplace special on ol’ Ned.”

 

Again Bobby protested, even more firmly, “Ned, I don’t need your money, you do.”

 

“Bobby, I ain’t doin’ this for you,” sighed Ned, “I’m doin’ it for me. Now I don't know much, but it seems to me that if you don’t take it I’ll just have hand it over to some stranger.”

 

Bobby knew that there would be no arguing at that point. When Ned laid down a Ned-ism it was as good as law to him. Bobby reluctantly took the envelope and slowly headed for the door. “Thanks Ned,” Bobby said as he looked back at Ned, “for everything.”

 

As Bobby and Flo headed out of the lot Ned turned to go back to the kitchen and as he sauntered back he softly said, “Thanks Bobby, for everything.”

 

Since business had been slow there wasn’t much to close up. Ned finished the odds and ends quickly and then walked to the grill, which had been cooling down. Slowly he began the ritual of scraping, washing, rinsing, cleaning and drying that had become a very part of his soul. As he did he would recall the times when it had been full of combinations of orders, all requiring his attention and orchestration. That was when Ned shined, when the world was full of orders just waiting to be filled. Effortlessly, without any apparent motion the raw ingredients would be transformed into simple, yet powerfully savory creations of wonder. A smile came across Ned’s mind. He was not one for boast or pride, but every once in a while did allow himself the satisfaction of contentment. Ned never understood what was so special about his food, but people would religiously come from miles around to worship at the alter of Ned’s grill, consuming with glee the bounty that it produced. And that was just fine with Ned.

 

As Ned finished he did a final walk through of the entire diner, making sure that it was put to sleep for the evening. Turning out lights, tucking in napkins, putting everything in its place. As he closed and locked the back door on his way out he gently patted the shiny silver metal of the diner, closed his eyes and softly whispered, “Good night girl. Sweet dreams.”

 

Ned’s walk home was not far, but he took his time this evening. The New Mexico high desert was cooling down and the light of the day was escaping to the west with splendid color. The small silver Windstream with the broken axle that is his home was adjacent to the back of the property, a spot that he used at Flo’s suggestion, though at times he thought that was more to keep him than to help him. So, he could take an eternity in his thoughts and still be home before too much of the evening had slipped through the western sky.

 

His life seemed simply fulfilling to Ned, though this is not what he had planned all those many years ago. He had started out from back east to head out across the great American road, intent on finding his way and a path to fortune somewhere on the west coast. Along the way he met many interesting stories and worked the odd job now and then to get the money necessary to sustain his pilgrimage. That was how he happened upon Flo. The trek across Texas had left him tired, penniless and starved, both physically and emotionally. As he walked along the highway, searching the horizon for the hope of his next ride, he noticed the “help wanted” sign tucked neatly in the corner of the front window of the diner. Little had Ned expected that the need to fill his belly and scrape together some traveling money would lead to the meaning of his very existence, Flo.

 

The world did not quite understand Ned. He knew that from what he heard around him. When the big new interstate was completed and the mega-sized truck stop had gone in down by the exit to the old highway people were a buzz. He would overhear them whispering at the diner. All speculating that, “Ned’s sure to leave. What’s he got keepin’ him here? Why they’d snatch him up in a second, and where would that leave poor Flo?” Fickle lot, thought Ned, ‘cause if he did head down to the truck stop to cook it would only hurt Flo if they all went that way as well. Yet still, they expected him to leave. They never bothered to understand him, and that was just fine with Ned. The reality of the big truck stop and the loss of traffic, those were things that he could learn to live with. The loss of Flo, now that was a different story.

 

Ned snapped back to reality as he opened the door to the silver Windstream. “Jenny, I’m home,” called out Ned. In seconds he was greeted by the lumbering Golden Labrador that was his companion. As Jenny licked and played Ned petted her and scratched behind her ears. “How was your day sweetheart?” crooned Ned. The waging of her tail, the sparkle in her eye, her very excitement at his presence left no doubt as to Jenny’s feelings for Ned, and the feeling was mutual.

 

“Well girl, how ‘bout some dinner and a show?” Ned asked. Ned thought that the new young hot shot pitcher was on the mound tonight. He walked over and turned on the radio, cautiously adjusting the knob to minimize the static. Baseball, what a wonderful sport. Ned had played in his early days back east. There was even talk of playing professionally. He had several looks by the minor league teams in those days, and many of them seemed more than a bit interested. Dreams of careers and contracts were soon dashed on the cold alter of reality when Ned slid into second base and heard the snap in his knee. While the excitement over Ned and his playing days waned faster than an evening sunset, the long road to fixing his knee had no such speed. Months before he could walk at all, and years before he could get along for the most part on his own. To this day his characteristic saunter is as much to ease the pain in his knee as it is move through life at a more gentle pace. Still, baseball is his joy, and sharing it with Jenny a special treat. As the announcer called out the starting line-up for the game, Ned walked over to the cupboard.

 

“Jenny, how about that dinner now?” Ned said looking down at her. He reach up in the cupboard and grabbed one of the cans of premium dog food and began to open it with his hand crank can opener. “Nothing but the best that money can buy for my Jenny,” sighed Ned, “Nothing but the best.” He took down a bowl and place about half the contents of the can into it before dropping his spoon down in the now half-empty can. Grabbing both the can and the bowl Ned made his way to old recliner that served as chair and bed in his cramped quarters. He placed the bowl on the floor next to his feet, right in front of Jenny, who was patiently waiting for his command. As he leaned back in the chair he picked up his spoon and said, “Okay Jenny, dinner is served. Nothing but the best for you and me.” They both ate heartily of their premium dinner.

 

Ned sat there eating his dinner, petting Jenny, listening to the game and marveling at the lack of understanding of the world. They all had ideas about what would make him happy, what was “supposed to be.” Confuse stares and whispers were most of what he got from the locals. They faulted Flo for the way that she would treat him, convinced that her selfishness was just a disgrace. Perhaps if they knew, knew her like Ned did they might understand but not likely. Ned laughed in his mind. They don’t even know her name, he thought. See, Flo was the name she used, but her real was Genevieve Florence, and Ned was one of the very few people in the whole world that knew that little gem. Flo didn’t like it much when Ned named his dog Jenny, but what else was he to name his most devote companion? No, they didn’t understand Ned, nor did they understand Flo. Ned felt that even though he didn’t know much, it seemed to him that there are basically two types of people in the world, the takers and the givers. Flo was a taker, world class at that, and Ned, well he never was much for taking. Here in his little trailer, with a broken axle, sitting next to Jenny while listening to the game, never very far from the diner and his beloved Flo, Ned had plenty to give and plenty of folks that needed the givin’. As Ned saw it, it was just the way the world was supposed to be, at least in these parts.

 

 

Author's Note

I realize that this story can still be improved. I will not limit your comments. All comments that would improve the story or my writing are welcome.

Reviews

[Mia]

Hi Ray :)
This is such a touching story and I really love Ned. His heart is gold and it was amazing to read of his kindness. This story is also breathtakingly sad. It kills me that Ned is so over-looked. He is barely appreciated. His relationship with Robert is a beautiful thing and it makes me sad that they didn't seem to be able to communicate, the way they needed to. I really dislike Flo and I see her just like all the other people in town see her. The fact that she is selfish makes the story so much more moving. It just goes to show how kind hearted Ned is. Fantastic story!
The one thing I would like to mention is that there’s a point in the story where it seems to drag. I hate to use the word drag because it sounds so horrible but after thinking about possible alternatives...it seemed the most appropriate. After Robert and Flo left till the second last paragraph it almost seemed like there was an anti-climax. The story goes from intense to average. The last paragraph is lovely and I feel like it ‘sums up’ (again for lack of a better term) the parts you wrote after Robert and Flo left till the second last paragraph.
I hope you understand what I mean and that this review has been helpful.
I adored how you said “love is not always what we consider romantic love. In this world people have different needs and sometimes fulfilling those needs is the purest form of love.” So much wisdom!

[recline]

Mia,

Thank you so much for your review. I appreciate your time and comments. I understand your points on the closing. Hopefully it was not boring, but it was meant to be somewhat anticlimactic and to give more depth to Ned's character. May be it makes for better understanding but not necessarily better reading. I will think about that. Thanks!

[Mia]

I see what you mean. It wasn't boring at all. After all the emotions that we'd (the reader) experienced it was just an anticlimax but not to the detriment of the story.