3/16/16
Wayne Hayes closed the door behind him as he left the principal’s office, then silently mouthed ‘yes!’ and pumped his fist in the air. He recomposed himself and glanced toward the secretary. Good. She was busy at the filing cabinets and hadn’t seen his display. When he crossed the room she looked up, so he spoke.
“I got it! I got the job!”
“Congratulations,” she said without enthusiasm. “You know, we don’t normally hire teachers right out of college. It’s just we’re in a bind.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“Our seventh grade teacher was in a bad car accident last month. And this close to the start of school the experienced teachers have already found placements. So we didn’t have much choice.”
Wayne felt her attitude was unfair. He had a degree even if this was his first job. Perhaps she was just jealous since in school hierarchies even a beginning teacher has more status than a secretary, no matter how long she’s been there.
“I’ve worked hard to become a professional. It’s not like I’m a janitor or a secretary. You don’t need to worry if I can do the job. So, when can I see my classroom?”
“Come in tomorrow morning at 8:00 and I’ll have your contract ready. You’ll then get your keys and room assignment.”
Wayne was still humming to himself as he whipped his small car into the parking space for his apartment. He paused outside his door for a moment to watch the sunset. What a beautiful end to a great day!
Once inside he removed his necktie and laid it across a folding chair. He then began going through the cardboard moving boxes in the middle of the floor and placing the contents around the sparsely furnished efficiency apartment. Clothes in the bedroom, books in the living room, dishes in the kitchen. It didn’t take long though since there weren’t many of each item.
He opened the refrigerator, frowned at the empty shelves, and shut it again. He looked at his watch, then glanced out the window at the darkness. Finally, with a look of purpose he exited the apartment.
* * *
Clifford Payne slammed shut the diner’s walk-in freezer and uttered a swear word. “Janet!” he called loud enough to be heard in the dining area. A moment later a frazzled waitress entered the kitchen.
“Yeah? What is it?” Janet asked.
“Tell the customer to order something else. We’re out of pork chops.”
“Damn it, Cliff! I can’t keep doing this. Out of steaks, out of chicken, now out of pork chops! There’s nothing left for them to order. Just face it, it’s time to admit –”
“NO! I can still pull this out. I just need a few good days, then I’ll be able to pay the suppliers and get deliveries again.”
“Cliff, you know there’s not enough stock left to do that. Well I know it, even if you don’t. And the other waitresses and cooks knew it too. Damn it, I should have quit when they did.”
“Janet, please, I need you. I’ll be able to pay your back wages, plus a big bonus if you’ll just stay with it a little longer,”
Janet shook her head as she shoved open the kitchen door and exited. Cliff smiled as he recognized she had accepted his argument again.
* * *
Wayne cruised slowly down the dimly-lit street of the small business district, his eyes sweeping right and left for an open store. At length the promising glow of red and white neon caught his attention. The end unit in a strip plaza had a sign which read, Cliff’s Diner, and a few cars in front showed it was still open. Wayne’s stomach growled to say this wasn’t the time to be picky.
He stood just inside the door wondering if he should seat himself. There were about twenty tables and booths, but only three held customers. Even a quick glance revealed none were happy with their meals.
One couple was complaining loudly to each other with words like “inedible” and “revolting.” Another couple had pushed their plates to the edge of the table and were looking around for the waitress. The man sitting alone continued to eat what he had but his expression told of displeasure.
Wayne was about to leave when the waitress came from the kitchen and said he could sit anywhere. She then went to deal with the other customers. Feeling himself already committed he sat in the booth nearest the door and took the menu from between the condiments at the side of the table.
Before long the waitress came up behind him and said, “Don’t bother with that. It’s almost closing time and the kitchen has already started shutting down. But we can still make a sandwich if you’d like.”
“Okay, I guess that’ll be fine. But I didn’t see sandwiches on the menu. What do you have?”
“Um, let’s see… Cheese. We could make a cheese sandwich.”
Wayne’s nose wrinkled a bit. “Cheese?”
“Yes, a nice grilled cheese sandwich and a side of potato salad.”
“Well, if that’s all you can do.”
“What to drink?”
“Sprite, please.”
“It’ll be right up.”
The wait was longer than Wayne felt a sandwich should take. The other patrons left in turn, so by the time his meal came he was the only one there. He quickly learned what the others knew.
“Miss? Oh, miss!”
“Yes?”
“This potato salad is sour.”
“You mean like mustard? The cook uses that to make –”
“No. It’s a tangy taste like it’s going bad.”
The waitress picked up the small dish. “Sorry, sir. I’ll remove it from your bill.”
“Wait. And this soda is nothing but carbonated water. It doesn’t have any drink syrup at all.”
“Oh, we’ve been having trouble with that machine for a while, but the repairman still hasn’t come. How about a nice cup of hot coffee? On the house.”
Wayne ate the cheese sandwich as he listened to the raised voices in the kitchen. When the waitress finally returned her red face kept him from saying anything more.
She used a little too much force setting the coffee down and the cup tipped over in its saucer. The steaming hot liquid rushed across the table and into Wayne’s lap.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! Let me get a dish towel.”
The waitress rushed to the kitchen, but Wayne didn’t wait. Instead he ran to the bathroom.
He locked the door, kicked off his shoes, and pulled off his pants. He soaked a handful of paper towels with cold water and pressed them to his thighs. Ahh, that’s better. He lifted the makeshift compress to examine the bright red skin and breathed a sigh of relief. Whew! His vital organs hadn’t been burned.
He reapplied the cold compress and sat on the edge of the toilet while the coolness soothed the burning. He smiled as he recalled his thoughts upon first entering the diner. I should have run when I had the chance. Ah well, it’s all part of the adventure. I’ll laugh about it someday.
Eventually the pain lessened. He picked up his pants from the floor, took the wallet from the back pocket and set it on the toilet tank. He then turned the pants and pulled his cell phone from the front pocket. No! NO! The phone was dead. The coffee must have got in it. He grabbed a fresh paper towel and dried the phone carefully, but still the power button did nothing. So he set the phone beside his wallet, then took the pants to the sink.
He rinsed away the coffee stains as best he could, then squeezed out the water. Luckily this bathroom had a hot air hand dryer, so he held the pants under the blower until they were dry enough to wear. He then dressed and exited.
The restaurant was completely dark. The dining area and kitchen lights were off. Even the Cliff’s Diner sign was off. He called out “hello” several times, but no answer came.
He checked the front door, but it was locked with a deadbolt that needs a key for the inside as well as the outside. He walked through the kitchen and found the back door, but it too was locked with a double-keyed deadbolt.
Wayne tried his cell phone again but still no luck. He then went behind the cashier’s counter and saw a telephone on the lower shelf. He picked up the handset but there was no dial tone, or any sound at all. What kind of restaurant doesn’t have a working phone?
He looked out the front door again hoping to signal someone for help, but everywhere was deserted. He’d just have to stay here until the place opened again.
He went to the booth where he’d sat before and pulled the table into the aisle. He then slid the first bench until it was pressed against the next one. That could be a bed, and a bundle of napkins could be a pillow. He was set for the night.
Wayne awoke early the next morning since the accommodations were far from comfortable. After a stop at the bathroom he went to the kitchen and searched until he found the makings for a pot of coffee. While that was brewing he fixed some scrambled eggs and a couple of pieces of toast. He had finished eating breakfast and was lingering over a third cup of coffee when he heard the front door unlock.
* * *
Clifford Payne stopped short when he saw the intruder. He pulled out the derringer he kept in his pants and leveled it at the man. “Don’t move or I’ll kill you.”
“But I was –”
“Shut up! Don’t even speak till the cops get here. Just keep sitting, or else.”
With his free hand Clifford took his cell phone from his waistband and dialed 9-1-1. After completing the call he sidled over to the cashier’s counter. He took a key from his pocket and opened the cash register. Relief filled his face.
“You’re just lucky the money’s still there or I’d shoot you before the cops get here.”
“But I didn’t –”
“SHUT UP!”
A short time later, Clifford had told Officer Rodriguez what had happened, and the burglar was sitting handcuffed in the backseat of the police car. Clifford stood close while the officer questioned the man because the policeman seemed inclined to let him go and call it a civil matter. If that happened this could take years. Somebody had to pay for his losses, and pay now!
Officer Rodriguez explained to Clifford that although he’d made the perpetrator repeat his story three times, it had remained consistent, so it was likely true. But Clifford insisted he wanted to press charges on every count possible. Becoming exasperated the officer said he’d just let a judge sort it out. So the young man was arrested.
Wayne didn’t have enough funds to post bail for the full list of charges against him, so he was stuck in jail a day and a half before he could finally present his case to an arraignment judge.
* * *
Judge Edward Stone glared at Clifford for a long moment, his mouth opened as if to speak but closed again. He turned toward Officer Rodriguez, his forehead creased and his face reddened, but still he said nothing. Both men squirmed beneath his heated gaze.
Finally the judge turned to Wayne. “All charges are dismissed. As to breaking and entering, burglary, and trespass, the defendant didn’t break in, he was unwillingly locked in. As to non-payment for a meal, he didn’t leave without paying. He was still in the restaurant and able to pay for what he’d eaten, had he been given the opportunity. As to property damage, the table and benches weren’t damaged and were easily moved back into place. This business owner should never have pressed such a frivolous claim, and this police officer should have known better than to file such ridiculous charges.”
Wayne smiled with relief. “Thank you, your honor.”
The judge nodded at him. “If there’s nothing else, you’re free to go.”
“Actually, there is something, sir. I’ve suffered a great deal of loss as a result of this and I’d like to know what can be done about it.”
“What kind of loss?”
“I lost my job because of this. I’m a school teacher so I have to keep a clean record. But now that I’ve been arrested on a half-dozen charges I’ve been told my employment contract is cancelled.”
“I see. That is a substantial loss. However, this is a criminal court so if you wish to pursue damages, you’ll have to file suit in civil court.”
“Your honor,” called out Clifford Payne, his face pale. “Don’t advise him to file a lawsuit. Now that you’ve dropped the charges he can get his job back.”
“No sir,” said Wayne. “The arrests remain on file even though they’ve been dismissed.”
Clifford saw the judge nodding so he tried again. “But your honor, can’t you just sponge his record?”
Both the judge and Wayne shook their heads, but it was Wayne who spoke. “That won’t work because expunging a record doesn’t erase the arrest, it merely hides it from the public. But schools are exceptions. They’re allowed to see even sealed records when checking a teacher’s background. I don’t think I can ever get another teaching job now. How would you feel to lose your livelihood?”
Clifford expressed the feeling that Wayne was exaggerating his loss of future employability, but the judge confirmed what Wayne had said. Only then did Clifford begin to comprehend the consequence of his hotheaded action and its irreversibility.
With a distressed voice Wayne extrapolated still further. “Not only have I lost a job and a career, but also my years of study and the expense of this degree. If I hope to stay a professional I’ll have to return to college and spend more years pursuing a new degree. On top of that are the costs I incurred to relocate here, and now I have to move again. Oh god, there’s no end to my losses!”
Judge Stone spoke again. “Young man, I can’t give advice from the bench. But I can recommend you seek legal counsel to explore your options. I can also say that if such a case came before me in my court, the injured party would leave with millions! This world has people very eager to teach others lessons. I just wonder if they’re also able to learn them. I wish you well. Court adjourned.”
* * *
The next day Wayne telephoned the school secretary to ask about the return of his credentials. “Your papers will be waiting for you at the front desk,” she said. “By the way, we still have an opening for a janitor, if you’re interested.”
COPYRIGHT PROTECTED
