“Hey Darlin’” sends warmth down my spine. I am home and feel loved by the stranger who did not make eye contact with me as they greeted me. Grease thickens the air.
***
The air outside is stiff, muggy, and angry. This environment should welcome no one. Yet, the cicada’s song, sticky southern summer heat, and bright yellow sun invite me to come back. I feel at home.
***
Back in the diner, portraits of Elvis Presley and bright orange and royal blue scatter across the olden wooden walls. Music and grease mingle in the air filling the silence between slow quiet conversations and bumps made by the ceiling fan. The service matches the way the southern heat makes the afternoon feel—slow and irritable. But, the homey sweet tea made by the waitress washes the sour mood away.
***
Meat and Two Sides—ALL HOMEMADE—$10.99*
*Served with cornbread or a sweet roll
Mississippi Pot Roast
Chicken and Dumplings
Country Fried Steak
Green beans
Cream Corn
Fried Okra
Mashed Potatoes and Gravy
Stewed Tomatoes and Zucchini
Congealed Orange Pineapple Salad
Squash Casserole
Broccoli and Rice Casserole
Side Salad
Dessert: Blackberry Cobbler
***
The meal arrives and fights to stay within the confines of the plate. Gravy seeps over to the dull green broccoli and rice casserole. Both sides pushed by a wholly portion of Mississippi Pot Roast. Bright orange carrots smothered by a thick brown gravy. The cornbread lays protected in a basket peering up at me. All served with a warm southern smile.
***
The first bite sends my body into a comfortable euphoria. The greasy, salty southern “comfort” food fills my mind. More. More. More. The gravy flushes any other flavor besides tangs of pepper sauce away from the meal. The gargantuan portion soon slims down to a reasonable size . I fork pieces of home into my mouth until a thin layer of brown gravy remains coating the bottom of the plate. I gulp the rest of the sweet and remove the straw from the glass.
***
The waitress flashes a warm smile at me as I walked past her. The door shuts quickly behind me. I am alone. The pearl white toilet glistens under the faint overhead light. I squat as the white of my eyes become parallel with the white rim. A wave of discomfort flushes into my body. I pull the straw from my sleeve; hoping it will suffice and spare my fingers. Home leaves my body.
***
I wash my hands and smile at myself in the mirror before re-entering the restaurant. My table is cleared. The waitress stares coldly at me from behind the counter as I approach the cashier to pay. The fan hums louder and the air feels unwelcoming and brisk. The bright colored walls faded into a muddy, grotesque orange. The cashier avoids my eyes as she takes my payment. A couple enters as I head to the door. The waitress and cashier greet them warmly. The door clicks shut behind me.
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