“Here they come. You might as well go ahead and get two unsweetened teas ready. I’ll heat up the grill.” Maurice waved his spatula in the air like a magic wand.
“How long have they been coming here now?” Shelly, the night shift waitress inquired of the greasy cook.
“Forty two years and counting.”
“Wow, forty-two years of eating here? You’d think they would be sick of it, especially ordering the same thing every time.” The waitress grabbed two neat rolls of silverware and headed towards their table.
“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. P. I’ll have your salad out in a jiff and Maury already has the grill going for your steak.” She smiled and set their tea glasses on the table. Her back was already turned when she heard the elderly lady call her name.
“I think tonight I’d like something different. Maybe, the red snapper. I hope Maury hasn’t gone to much trouble.”
Shelly thought she had better pick her mouth up off the floor and ask Mr. P if he’d like something else,/ but he didn’t give her a chance.
Mr. P winked at Shelly as he removed his tweed sports coat, “And, I’ll have the chicken.”
Shelly gave Mr. P a thumbs-up and smiled. She raced to the kitchen to Maury, careful not to fall on the slippery floor. Knowing him, the steaks were resting on a platter and he was dressing the baked potatoes.
As she rounded the door going into the kitchen, she saw Maury putting the final touches, a bright green piece of kale, on their plates.
“Maury, wait until I tell you what just happened!”
Reaching for the wall, he braced himself for bad news, “Did one of them fall? I told you not to mop yet.”
“No, no. Get this, they don’t want steak tonight! She wants the fish and he wants the chicken.”
As they were talking about it, they began to hear music playing in the dining room. Maury and Shelly headed towards the dining room. When they got to the door though, the elderly couple's table was empty.
Shelly laughed and elbowed him. With her long finger tipped by a bright red artificial nail, she pointed towards the end of the dining room, near the lobster tank. Everyone else in the restaurant had their eyes in that area too.
Mrs. P, decked out in a light-pink pantsuit and gold shoes was open armed at the end of the Mr. P.’s hand. He was grinning at her as he spun her back towards him. Granted, their movements were slower than a younger couple would have been, but they knew what they were doing.
“I don’t believe what I’m seeing. This is a couple that has eaten steak every Friday night for almost fifty years. They never leave the table except to go to the bathroom. Now, look at them, out there spinning around in the dining room. I hope they don’t hurt themselves.”
As the song ended, all the patrons including Maury and Shelly clapped and gave a standing ovation to the senior couple. They slowly made their way to the table. By the smell of it, dinner was burnt.
Shelly patted him on the back. “Well, Maury, it doesn’t look the only thing on fire here is your food.”
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