Jackie sat gazing out the diner’s window, watching the cars whiz by, leaving trails of blue smoke in their wake. She felt drained and empty. Any happiness was short-lived when, day after day, Brad never came back. There had been no sign of him since the morning she broke the coffee cup. Jackie didn’t understand it. Kelly told her that Brad liked her, and he thought she was pretty.

She knew she'd made a fool of herself. Kelly reassured her that she didn't, but Jackie didn't believe him, not after an entire week went by without a sign of Brad.

Kelly studied her from his place at the counter. His eyes squinted at her through the smoke made by a cigar that he kept between his teeth. "So, are you finally finished, or did you run out of things to clean?" His voice boomed across the empty diner.

She shrugged in answer. It was true she'd stayed busy this past week. She mopped and waxed the diner floor until the tiles shined in the sunlight. She washed all the windows, inside and out, and wiped the dust and grime from the neon sign that advertised "Kelly's Diner.” She scrubbed down the booths with bleach and water until the red vinyl gleamed and her hands were red and dry.

Kelly refused to let her in the kitchen even though she begged him to scrub the grill and defrost the freezer.

Now she was back in the booth, staring out the nice clean window, feeling like someone had just pulled her plug.

"What's wrong, Honey?" he asked when his attempt at humor failed.

She stared at his stained, greasy apron as he approached her.

"Your apron is disgusting," she mumbled.

Kelly glanced down and laughed. "Yea, I suppose it is," he said. "but that's not what's bothering you."

He sat down across from her. "You've been acting like the Health Department was getting ready to shut me down. You've hardly been able to keep your eyes off the door. And now you're back in this booth looking like you just lost your best friend. Please don't tell me nothing's wrong, Honey, I'm not blind."

"I'm okay, really." She tried to smile but knew it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm just tired."

Kelly leaned back in the booth and puffed heavily on his cigar. His eyes narrowed as he gazed at her through the cloud of smoke that circled his head.

Jackie grew uncomfortable under his gaze. "I'm fine," she said.

"He'll come back, Sweetheart. It hasn't been that long."

She felt the heat rise on her face. "I'm not even worried about that," she mumbled under her breath.

"Okay, then. I'm gonna start those dishes. And I don't need your help," he added as she started to rise from the booth. "You've done enough."

Kelly started to swing his legs out of the booth when the stunned look crossed his face. He froze in the seat. His mouth opened, and his face turned an ashen shade of gray. The cigar dropped from his lips. It landed on his chest, scattering ashes down the front of his apron on its journey to the floor. Jackie watched in horror as it hit the linoleum as if in slow motion. She could almost hear the soft plop as it landed and rolled a few feet away.

Kelly's hands clutched at his chest, pulling at his clothing as if he were suffocating, and he gulped at the air like a drowning man. He slumped back in the seat, fear making his eyes wide. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

"Kelly!" Jackie moved swiftly to Kelly's side. "Oh, God, what is it?"

He tried to speak but couldn't catch his breath. He only shook his head, looking helplessly up at her, the fear spreading in his eyes.

"Tell me what to do!" she cried. "Please, Kelly, I don't know what to do!"

Kelly motioned for her to help him sit upright in the booth. His breathing was coming in small, sharp gasps as if each one stabbed him to the very depths of his lungs. With shaking hands, he took the edge of his apron and wiped his face.

"Water," he gasped.

Jackie raced to the counter, poured a glass of water, and returned to Kelly's side. The color flooded back into his face. His breathing came easier. He took several deep breaths, then belched loudly. His face flamed a bright red, and he grinned sheepishly.

"Excuse me, Jackie," he said apologetically.

Jackie handed him the glass of water, and he drank thirstily then handed the empty glass back to her.

"I think it was just gas," he managed to whisper. "A few more of those, and I'll be good as new."

"I think you need a doctor." Jackie leaned toward him and placed a cool hand on his forehead. It was still clammy.

"A doctor?" he scoffed. "I don't need a doctor. I need to lay off the onions."

"Kelly, please," she begged.

Kelly motioned for Jackie to sit back down. "Sweetheart, my wife was up at the crack of dawn every morning."

Jackie's eyes widened in surprise. It never dawned on her that Kelly had a life of his own, one that happened before she came along.

"She jogged six miles a day." he continued, nodding at her expression. "She didn't eat red meat. She didn't smoke. She didn't drink. She was a pioneer in this obsession with health we're starting to see today. But that still didn't stop her from dying of a heart attack at thirty-three years old."

Jackie was speechless. Suddenly she understood. Kelly's waitress, the one that "left" him, had been his wife.  Kelly would never be able to replace her.

Kelly paused in his speech. Slowly he tried once more to stand. Once up, he pointed a finger at her. "I made up my mind then and there. I was going to eat what I wanted when I wanted it." He paused for only a second before continuing. "And how much of it I wanted." He began to walk away before turning back to her again. "And I like my cigars, too. Now, if you're done with me, I'd like to get my dishes done."

"No!" she almost shouted as she gained control of herself. "No, you don't. No dishes."

"What do you mean, 'no dishes'? The kitchen's a mess, and if you think I'm leaving it that way..."

"I'll do the dishes. You go rest."

"But, Jackie," he started to protest. "You've done more than your share of cleaning.”

"You go on back and get off your feet." She forced a smile and gently prodded him toward the apartment. "Go watch a ball game or something."

For the next hour, Jackie rinsed plates, coffee cups, and silverware and shoved them through the commercial dishwasher. The steam rose from the scalding water, and she dripped with sweat, her ponytail sagging in the heat and humidity. When finished, she took one last look around the kitchen, nodded in satisfaction, and left the room.

She found Kelly in the apartment, his feet up on the ottoman and a football game blaring on the television. He had another of his infernal cigars stuck between his teeth and the sports section of the newspaper spread across his knees.

"Don't you fall asleep with that big stogie hanging out of your mouth," she warned. She took and placing it in the ashtray near his elbow. "I don't want you burning the place down."

Kelly only grunted, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watched the game.

A soft snore escaped his lips as she watched him for a moment. She smiled wistfully. She prayed he was all right. She still wished he had gone to a doctor. Maybe she would be able to convince him soon.

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