how to read a book

according to my waitress, joan

Joanie, probably

Joan is the kind of waitress whose dangling cigarette would ash in your lukewarm cup of coffee (accidentally, of course) as she’d jot down the rest of your order. And you wouldn’t mind. You’d still tip her 20%. She would win you over with a phlegm-laced apology and pour you a fresh cup. You’d both laugh. It was for the better, you’d understand this much. It was the universe through Joan saying you needed a fresh cup anyways.

I watch Joan as she shuffles away for one of her 15 minute breaks. The sound of her loafers making a beeline for her favorite booth lets us diners know our pleas for extra toast will have to wait.

She picks at the innards poking out of the booths red vinyl cushion after Harry, one of our locals, gutted the old thing over some turkey bacon gone bad. After much deliberation, Harry would be allowed back. Turkey bacon, however, was scrapped from the menu permanently, and rightfully, so.

It’s late and Joan is tired. Old as she is, she prefers the night shift. The late night diners, just as weary as she is, don’t ask for much, don’t want to talk about much. Plus, it allows her to pick up tomorrow’s paper on her way in. “That’s why you gotta read tomorrow’s paper today. Only way to get ahead of time!”

Which made sense to me, the way she would explain it. I almost believed there was method in her madness. Old broad would really get the wheels in my sleep-deprived head spinning. Right up until the day I noticed both the Towers standing upright and Derek Jeter wearing his pinstripes on the cover of her NY Post. That’s what a lifetimes worth of inhaling Aquanet and heartache’ll get you. Still reliving 1998.

Anyways, tonight Joan isn’t reading tomorrow’s paper during her break. Tonight she’s reading Faulkner instead, which makes me smile. She takes a sip of her English tea in between pages. Reads a page, tears it out. I watch her as she goes through eleven torn pages of As I Lay Dying this way. I counted. It was eleven.

Joan finishes her tea, eleven pages in means her 15 minutes are just about up.

I had to ask.

“Joanie. What do you do with those pages? The ones you tear out of the book when you’re done reading?”

“Well, I throw’em out mostly. If they’re any good I’ll give’em to someone else to read. Usually tho, they ain’t.”