Not All Reruns Play Out the Same Way
Becky and the cowboy
The fragile strains of the radio struggled to be heard over the constant cacophony in the diner. Now and then it snatched a moment when the conversations lulled; when the diners were busy chewing; when the clatter in the kitchen paused for a beat in between the cries of the angry cooks and the retorts of the overworked waitresses and the fall of the cutlery like rain on the tiled floors.
In that stolen moment, had anyone bothered to listen, they might have heard Cyndi Lauper straining against loneliness.
If you’re lost, you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall, I will catch you, I’ll be waiting
Time after time
But no one paused. No one listened. And Cyndi sang on and on as though to herself.
No one, that is, but Becky, who sat nearest the radio at the long Formica counter strung with faded teal swivel chairs like vinyl Christmas lights. Becky munched her sandwich — a BLT on whole wheat —and mulled over the scene as though it were a rerun of Cheers.
Mrs Harrison is totally banging the Mayor, she thought, as she watched them further down the long counter pretend to ignore each other while slyly they dipped their hands into one…
