Be Mine, Sweet Quaran-tine - Part One

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BE MINE, SWEET QUARAN-TINE - PART ONE

Trisha looked up from wiping the counter when she heard the front door’s bell. She smiled and waved at the old man entering the diner. “Heya, Frank.”

The silver-haired man nodded and waved back as he made his way to his favorite booth. The Clean Plate Club, the local diner Trisha worked at, was about to close for the night, but Trisha never did have the heart to shuffle Frank out. The seventy-something widower was just too sweet, always politely ordering the same thing every night: a hot cup of tea and a slice of apple pie. It’d been his wife’s favorite. He’d told Trisha once that it kept a part of her alive for him, to end each day with something she loved.

It’d broken her heart, when The Plate had closed down for weeks because of the lockdown. Of course, she’d been worried about her finances and the health of her coworkers and herself, as well as the state of the world as a whole, but a part of her couldn’t stop thinking about Frank all alone in the apartment he used to share with his wife. She would have brought him a pie, if she’d known where he lived or felt comfortable going anywhere outside her house.

Now that The Clean Plate Club was open again, she still worried about her finances and health and world, obviously, but it was nice to see Frank again. She was glad to see him in relatively good health. Every night, since they’d reopened, he’d come in with a scarf wrapped around his face, like it was December instead of the middle of summer, and sit in the back. And, just like she used to, Trisha would bring him his mug of steaming tea and a slice of pie.

Only now, she didn’t feel comfortable sliding into the booth with him to listen to stories of him and his wife. Sure, she wore a mask, as required by the restaurant, but it still didn’t feel like enough. The last thing either of them needed was to catch the virus. He didn’t look sick and she felt well enough, but the risk was there.

So, after delivering his usual order, Trisha retreated back behind the counter. “How’s it been, Frank?”

He unwrapped the scarf from around his face. “Same old, same old. How about you?”

Trisha smiled as the man began to tuck into his pie. “Can’t complain.”

Frank raised his eyebrow. “Then you’re not paying close enough attention.”

Trisha chuckled. True enough.

“Is that Frank?”

They both turned to see the Plate’s cook, Carlos, lean against the kitchen’s pass-through window, his jaunty soda jerk hat and matching face mask looking so crisp and white against his silky, black hair and bronze skin. His dark brown eyes glittered with humor. “How’s the pie tonight?”

“Not as good as my wife’s,” Frank repeated the refrain they performed every night, like a well-oiled vaudeville act, “but mortals were never meant to do what angels may.”

Carlos tipped his hat. “Just means I’ll have to keep aiming higher.” He turned to Trisha, who was smirking behind her mask at the two men. “If you want to head out early, I can handle clean-up, if you close out the register.”

Trisha shook her head. “You don’t have to do that.”

Carlos shrugged and stepped out of the kitchen and into the diner. “Not like I have anything better to do.” He grabbed the mop and began to work on the floors.

No one did.

She stopped and thought about it, admiring Carlos's broad shoulders and smooth movements as he mopped. An early night didn’t sound too bad. Ever since the pandemic started, Trisha felt exhausted all the time. Not for any real good reason. The world, living in it, just seemed so draining right now. All she really wanted to do was to go home and go to bed. “If you’re sure.” It was an extremely kind offer. One too good to pass up.

Carlos just tipped his hat again, before turning to Frank. “And don’t you worry about this one; I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Trisha smiled, already dreaming of her comfortable bed. “Thanks.”

* * *

Carlos poured more hot water into Frank’s mug before handing him another tea bag. “Here you are.”

Nodding, Frank held his scarf over his face until Carlos backed up a few feet. “I hope you don’t mind waiting for me.”

Carlos shook his head and headed back to the counter to wipe up. “I’ve got plenty to do still before I can close up for the night. Take your time.”

Frank took a sip of his tea. “Yes, that was a nice thing you did for Trisha.” Shaking his head, he tsked. “I know you’re not supposed to say such things about a lady, but she looks tired.”

Carlos nodded. “She deserves a break.” Trisha worked hard and never complained. Even with a mask on, she always had a smile for every customer and did her best to bring a little brightness to what sure felt like dark times.

Frank picked up his fork and picked up the last bit of his crust. “Shame she goes home alone every night.”

Chuckling, Carlos leaned against the counter, washcloth in hand. “You up to your matchmaking tricks again?” Frank had been pushing Carlos and Trisha together for years now.

And it wasn’t as if Carlos didn’t find her attractive. Trisha had beautiful blond hair that looked like silken sunlight and blue eyes the color of the ocean. Her hips were weighty and round and her legs seemed to go on forever. Yeah, Carlos found Trisha very attractive.

But they were coworkers. And that never felt like a good idea. It just seemed easier to date outside the diner.

Not that that was all that easy these days either.

Which was why he’d offered to let her head home early. One of them might as well get a good night of sleep and, Lord knew, it wasn’t going to be him.

Frank huffed into his tea. “Girl like that should have someone to take care of her.”

Carlos smiled. “She’s more than capable of taking care of herself.” Trisha might be sweet and friendly, but she was tough when she needed to be. He would never, as long as he lived, forget her dressing down a server who’d refused to wear a mask on shift. Her fury had been glorious and terrifying. Since then, he’d never seen the young server without a mask, even when on break or heading home. Carlos, who’d grown up around strong, resilient women, couldn’t help but admire one who commanded the fear of God.

Frank sipped and nodded. “Just because she can do for herself, doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve a man willing to do what he can for her.” He looked at Carlos over his mug. “I imagine she’s the kind of woman who would always give better than she gets.”

Carlos grinned. That she would. He leaned on the countertop and raised an eyebrow. “Know many women like that?”

Frank lifted his head to the ceiling. “Just the one.” He shut his eyes and wrapped his hands around his mug reverently. “She was all that I needed.”

Carlos liked to think that, in his thirty-odd years on this Earth, he’d loved his share of women. But never the way Frank seemed to have loved—seemed to still love—his wife. Carlos had wanted many women. Liked even more. But needed...

Frank drained his cup. “I’ll never see my wife again. Not in this lifetime, anyway. But, if I could…” He set the mug on the table with a thud before grabbing his scarf that looked so incongruous with his short-sleeved shirt and light-weight linen pants. “Take it from someone who goes home alone every night,” he said, slinging the long cloth around his neck, “facing all that emptiness everyday drains a person and there’s no amount of rest or sleep that can cure that kind of exhaustion.” He gave Carlos a pointed look. “Don’t you think?”

Carlos watched the old man wrap the scarf around his face as he made his way back out onto the street, leaving Carlos alone in the empty diner. Well, the old man certainly knew how to make a point, didn’t he?

Fact was Carlos didn’t really want to go home to an empty apartment either. While he didn’t exactly relish risking his health for a paycheck every day, simply because it wasn’t as if he and his fellow coworkers could work from home, he didn’t think he could spend all day in his apartment either. Every night, when he came home, he felt restless there. Trapped. It wasn’t even that he had anywhere he particularly wanted to go, certainly not enough to risk his health unnecessarily. But he missed the ability to go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He missed hanging out with his friends, at the bar, at the movies, at the park. He hadn’t even seen most of his friends or family, face-to-face, in months. He called his family every week, even played games online with some of his friends, but it wasn’t the same.

Yeah, he understood the unique level of loneliness lockdown left deep in the soul.

Well, what was he supposed to do about that anyway? Even if he wanted to pursue something with Trisha, how would that even work? Like with his friends, it’s not as if they could go out to a restaurant or a movie. What kind of date could they even have while under quarantine? They couldn’t kiss or cuddle or make love. What would the point even be? What could they really do that they didn’t already do, while seeing each other, talking to each other, sharing a small space with each other, eight hours a day?

Some cure.

Carlos sighed and stared at all the work that still waited for him. It was going to be a long night. So he put the old man’s words out of his head and got to work.

* * *

Trisha refreshed Frank’s cup. “How’s the pie tonight?”

Frank swallowed and winked. “Carlos’s best, but don’t tell him I said so.”

Trisha zipped her mask-covered lips. “I won’t say a word.” She winked back at him. “But I could bring you a second slice, if you like.”

Frank chuckled. “Please and thank you.”

Trisha made her way into the kitchen. “One more slice of pie, please.”

“Frank’s making a night of it, huh?” Carlos stopped wiping the kitchen counters to wash his hands, cut another slice of pie, and plate it. “Here you are.”

She took it. “Thanks.” She leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. “If you want to head out early, I can stay late tonight. You know, to make up for last night.”

Carlos waved his hand dismissively. “No need to make up for anything; it wasn’t anything.” He looked at her, his dark eyes taking her in. “Forgive me saying so, but you don’t look any more well-rested than you did before.” He turned to wipe the counters again. “Use your early night for something more fun than sleep?”

Trisha shrugged. “Only if you find tossing and turning all night fun.”

Carlos turned back to her, raising his eyebrow. “Not as peaceful a night as you hoped?”

Trisha yawned and set the pie on the counter. “It’s hard to relax these days.” She touched her temple, where a vein had been throbbing off and on all day. “Especially when one or some of my neighbors decided to set off fireworks all night long.”

Carlos winced. “Yeah, it’s been going on all over.” He shook his head. “Cooped-up people blowing off steam, I guess.”

Trisha nodded. “I suppose.” She sighed. “But add it with the news coverage of police shootings and tear-gassed protesters…” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her middle. “I mean, I’m certain it was just fireworks, but explosives sound like explosives to me, you know?”

Carlos sighed and rolled his shoulders. “Yeah, I can see that.” He shifted his weight from side to side. “It can’t be easy living in your house all alone.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’m by myself in my apartment but, if anything ever went down… Well, for better or worse, you’re never really alone in an apartment, you know?”

She did know. Last night, it’d almost been like she’d had too much time. Alone in her house, left with those sounds and her thoughts, it’d left her anxious and nervous. Too nervous to enjoy any of her newfound time.

“Maybe you should see if a friend might stay with you during lockdown?” Carlos suggested, still wiping down counters. “At least if you’re quarantining together, you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

Trisha thought about it, but shook her head. “Like it or not, working here increases my risk of catching the virus. But I can’t not work.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t ask any of my friends to take on that risk.”

Carlos turned to face her. “You’re a good friend.” He shrugged. “Well, if you’re ever feeling lonely or scared, you can always give me a call. It’s not as if I won’t be home.”

Trisha grabbed Frank’s pie off the counter again. “Thanks.” It was sweet of Carlos to offer, but she was sure, even under lockdown, he had better things to do with his time than coddle her. “I’d better get Frank his pie, before he wonders if we closed up with him still inside.”

Carlos laughed. “Well, this is basically his second home. He’s practically a fixture here.” He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine the place without him.”

Trisha agreed. And part of her was comforted by that. A smile spread across her face as she delivered Frank his dessert. “Here you are. One slice of Carlos’s best.”

Frank nodded. “Thank you.”

Trisha walked back to the counter only to realize that Frank wasn’t eating. He was just staring at her. “Something wrong with the pie, Frank?”

The old man just shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but…” He picked up his fork, but looked up at Trisha instead of the pie. “Can I ask you a question?”

Eavesdrop? On her conversation with Carlos? “Uh.” Trisha shrugged. “Sure.”

Frank used his fork to push around his pie. “You don’t want to live alone, but you don’t want to put any of your friends at risk, because you work here, right?”

That about summed it up. She nodded. “It’s not that I’m worried that I’m sick,” she rushed to assure him. “I don’t have any symptoms. No one who works here does and, if anyone does, we’re sent straight home.” She shrugged. “But you just can’t be too careful these days, you know?”

Frank shook his head. “I wasn’t worried.” He ate a piece of pie. “Not about that anyway.” He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Rather, I was wondering if there was a simpler solution to your problem.”

Trisha looked at Frank curiously. “My problem?”

“Of living alone.” Frank waved his fork. “You live alone. Carlos lives alone.” He twirled his fork. “Why not live together?” He held out his hands. “Just during quarantine, of course.”

Carlos? Trisha shook her head. “Aw, Frank, no, it’s not like that.”

Frank picked up his mug. “I’m not saying anything...funny should happen.” He took a sip. “I’m just saying it’s something to think about. I mean, you wouldn’t be putting each other at risk. Not if you’re both pretty much going to the same places, seeing the same people. Your risk levels are practically the same. Right?”

Trisha shook her head again. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” It sounded awkward and impossible. They were coworkers. Friends. Even if a part of her wished they could be more.

Which would make a living situation like that even worse. Having him live in her house. Having him, with his tall, broad body, taking up space in her home. Having him so near. In her kitchen. Her living spaces. Her bedroom. Having him so close to her most intimate spaces. Filling them with his presence, the sight, sound, and scent of him. Trisha felt her face flush and her heart pound at the thought.

No, it was definitely not a good idea.

“Just a thought.” Frank ate another bite. “I mean, coming home to a nice young man like Carlos, strong, reliable, capable…” He shrugged. “All I’m saying is, take it from an old man, life is short. And, with all that’s going on in the world today,” he said around another bite of sugary apples, “it’s gotta be better than coming home to an empty house, right?”

Trisha sighed. Well, with that thought swimming around her head, looked like she wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight either.

* * *

Trisha was still staring at the door. She’d been doing that all night.

Carlos leaned against the pass-through window. “Frank still not here?”

Sighing, Trisha shook her head. “Nope.” She slumped down into one of the cushy booths. “That’s three nights in a row.” She huffed, her brow furrowing in frustration. Before looking up at him, her eyes wide with sadness. “I’m worried about him.”

Carlos was too. Frank had been coming to The Plate longer than Carlos had been working there. The only times when the man didn’t come in, as far as Carlos was aware, was when The Plate was closed.

Or when Frank fell ill.

Carlos frowned.

He shook his head. “I’m sure he’s fine.” He had to be. “There’s been an uptick in cases recently,” he stopped, when he saw Trisha pale at that, only to hurriedly make his point, “so lots of people have been staying in, just to be safe. I’m sure that’s all it is.” He hoped so. “Do you know where he lives?” Maybe they could call or visit, just to check up on him.

Trisha shook her head. “All I know is that he lives alone.” Her frown deepened. “I don’t think he even has anyone else in his life.”

Carlos sighed. Yeah, that figured. He looked at the clock. It was twenty minutes after close. They’d already closed the register and cleaned up the diner. “I don’t think he’s coming.”

Sighing too, Trisha turned away. “I know.”

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