The Diner
Jocelyn Quade had been sitting in traffic for more than an hour and traveled a distance of less than two miles. According to the local radio station, there was a three-car accident up ahead, which caused the flow of traffic on the interstate to slow to a crawl.
Her stomach growled, and she looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was almost seven o'clock. Hunger and the growing discomfort in her bladder urged her to get off the interstate at the next exit. There were no signs indicating gas, food or lodging, but she didn't mind having to drive to the next town or even having to go back to the previous one, just as long as she could find a restaurant or a gas station with a working restroom.
Jocelyn drove to the end of the exit ramp and stopped. A small sign informed her that the town of Sterling was seven miles ahead on the right. She vaguely remembered having gone to a football game in Sterling when she was in high school, but that had been more than twenty years ago. Since then, she had circumnavigated the town, always taking the interstate to and from the city.
Sterling, like many small towns along old Route 182, had suffered greatly when the interstate was completed. The businesses along the road that had depended on motorists—the Mobil station, the Dairy Queen and Bob's Texas Wieners—had long since closed. As Jocelyn drove along the main road, the only buildings she passed were a hairdresser, an appliance repair shop, a post office and a dry cleaner, all of which closed at five.
"There are three or four other small towns in this vicinity," she reasoned. "One of them must have a McDonald's or a Burger King."
She drove six miles through woodlands and entered the town of Whitewood. Not far from the center of town, Jocelyn spotted a small wooden sign. Its paint was faded so badly that it was barely legible. Had she not been scanning the roadside so thoroughly, she might have missed it.
"HOT ROD'S DINER," she read. "OPEN 24 HOURS A DAY. That's if it didn't close up a few years ago."
Jocelyn was not optimistic, but she was hungry and there was no place else in sight, so she turned left at the corner and followed the road that seemed to lead nowhere. Five minutes later she saw the lights of the diner ahead and breathed a sigh of relief. There were no cars in the parking lot, but the building was well-lit. Surely, that meant it was open.
When she pulled her Subaru into a parking space just to the right of the front door, Jocelyn noted that Hot Rod's was one of a growing number of retro diners, designed to look like an old Fifties drive-in. A sign advised patrons to HONK FOR CARHOP SERVICE.
Not tonight! Jocelyn thought as she hurried toward the entrance, temporarily more interested in the ladies' room than in the diner's fare.
A pretty young waitress in a starched pale pink uniform and white apron greeted her from behind the counter.
"Hi. Do you have a restroom I could use?" Jocelyn asked.
"Turn right at the jukebox," the girl replied cheerfully.
A few minutes later, a more comfortable Jocelyn sat at the counter and asked the waitress, "Are you getting ready to close?"
"No, Ma'am. Hot Rod's is open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Would you like to see a menu?"
"That's okay. Could I just get a hamburger, fries and a Coke?"
"Coming right up," the waitress promised before she disappeared into the kitchen.
Jocelyn swiveled on the stool and looked around the diner. With its chrome and Formica tables, the booths, the soda fountain and the old Wurlitzer jukebox, it looked like a set from Happy Days. Any minute she expected to see Fonzie drive up on his motorcycle.
As she waited for her food, she walked over to the jukebox. Just as she had expected, the songs were all from the Fifties era: the Platters, Elvis Presley, Bill Haley and the Comets, Fats Domino and Buddy Holly. It was music her parents occasionally listened to, "oldies" even to them, who had grown up listening to the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Creedence Clearwater Revival and the Doors.
"Here's your food, Ma'am," the pert waitress called.
"Mmmm!" Jocelyn said after biting into the thick, juicy hamburger. "This is definitely better than McDonald's."
As she savored her dinner, the jukebox suddenly came to life. The song was Sam Cooke's "You Send Me."
Behind her, Jocelyn heard a car pull up. A few minutes later the door opened.
"Hi, Eddie."
The waitress beamed at the newcomer.
"Hey, Cookie," the customer replied.
The young man sat at the counter, two stools away from Jocelyn.
"I'll have a couple of dogs all the way and some fries."
"And what can I get you to drink?"
"The usual: a root beer in a frosted mug."
Jocelyn turned her head in his direction. Normally, she didn't pay much attention to the teenagers she saw walking along the streets or hanging out at the mall. With their baggy clothes, bizarre hairstyles, tattoos, body piercings and often dirty mouths, they were a breed apart from her, and she chose to avoid them if at all possible. The young man sitting next to her, however, was not the typical teen of the new millennium. Instead, he was a throwback to a generation when waistbands stayed at the waist and pants legs didn't drag on the ground. He looked about seventeen, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Jocelyn would bet a week's paycheck that he had already broken quite a few hearts.
"The food is good here, isn't it, Miss?" he asked with a smile when he saw Jocelyn looking in his direction.
"With hamburgers like this, I'm surprised this place isn't packed."
"Hot Rod's doesn't appeal to everybody."
"I don't see why not. The food is great, the prices are reasonable and the retro design should make it popular with young people."
Eddie chuckled at her words.
"You're right there. Hot Rod's is a place for the young."
The song on the jukebox changed.
"Would you like to dance?" Eddie asked.
Normally she would have refused, might even have been offended by the young man's brashness, but that night things were different. In many ways, it seemed like a holiday or a vacation from the hectic world in which she lived. Also, there was something endearing about Eddie. Even though he was most likely at least fifteen years her junior, Jocelyn felt a definite attraction to him.
The young man held out his hand, waiting. Jocelyn took it and quite naturally went into his arms and began moving with the rhythm of the music.
"I love this song," he said. "Do you like the Everly Brothers?"
"I'm not that familiar with them. I grew up playing the music of Bon Jovi and U2."
As the two strangers danced, Eddie sang along with the record.
"When I want you in my arms, when I want you and all your charms, whenever I want you all I have to do is dream."
"This is a nice song," she said. "It's sure different from what passes for music these days."
Eddie made no comment, good or bad, about modern music. He just continued singing the old Everly Brothers' classic.
"I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine any time night or day. Only trouble is, gee whiz, I'm dreaming my life away. I need you so that I could die. I love you so, and that is why whenever I want you all I have to do is dream."
When the song ended, Jocelyn and Eddie returned to their seats at the counter. Shortly thereafter, the waitress brought out Eddie's hot dogs, French fries and root beer.
"How is everything?" she asked Jocelyn. "Can I get you anything else?"
"I'm fine, thank you."
Again, the waitress disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the two customers alone in the dining area. Jocelyn ate slowly, reluctant to leave the diner and the company of the enchanting young man, but eventually, she knew she must go.
"Waitress?" she called.
The young girl reappeared instantly.
"Could I have my check, please?"
* * *
As she drove home, Jocelyn's mind tried to sort out the disturbing feelings she had experienced at the diner. No doubt her feminist friends would find nothing wrong with a thirty-four-year-old woman being attracted to a seventeen-year-old man, but she was the old-fashioned type.
"He's just a kid," she said, trying to dismiss the handsome young Eddie from her mind.
Yet there was nothing remotely childlike about the strong arms that had held her close to him when they danced.
Thankfully, Jocelyn was soon back home. In her house, surrounded by the familiar trappings of her life, she was able to put the evening into perspective. Even if she were inclined to carry on a June-September romance with Eddie, her busy work schedule would never permit it.
In her dreams that night, she found herself again sitting at the counter at Hot Rod's Diner. Like most dreams, this one was fragmented and distorted. Hot Rod's was intertwined with the Happy Days television show. Eddie was accompanied by Richie, Ralph and Potsie. Jocelyn's chic business suit and fashionable short hairstyle had been replaced by a poodle skirt and a ponytail. The Wurlitzer blared out Connie Francis, Jerry Lee Lewis and the Drifters.
Then the record in the jukebox changed, and the Everly Brothers started singing, "When I want you in my arms ...."
Jocelyn turned to Eddie, eagerly waiting for him to ask her to dance, but he was deep in conversation with Ron Howard. Finally, her feminist friends, who appeared with the young waitress from the mysterious realm of Hot Rod's kitchen, urged her to take the initiative.
"Food is good here, isn't it?" she asked. "Try the hamburger next time. You never know what could be in that hot dog."
Eddie ignored her and continued talking to his Happy Days friends.
"Let's dance, Eddie. I don't want to go to the football game after all."
Eddie finally turned to her.
"It's too late," he said sadly. "You've grown old, and the music has already stopped playing."
"No! Please dance with me! I don't want to leave here. I can't stand hip hop."
In the bizarre dream world, Jocelyn tried valiantly to pull up a pair of UFO pants that were resting a good four inches below her waistline. Meanwhile, Eddie, Richie, Ralph and Potsie got into a 1956 Chevy and started to pull out of the diner's parking lot. Jocelyn called to Eddie, but her words came out as a string of profanity. She ran out of the diner, anxious to talk to him, yet she couldn't move fast enough because her feet were entangled in the dragging pants legs.
The neighbor's Irish setter suddenly began barking at a stray cat, and the commotion woke Jocelyn. When she dozed off again, it was a sleep untroubled by dreams.
* * *
"Are you feeling all right?" Jocelyn's friend Beryl asked when she saw her a few days later. "You look like you've lost weight."
"I have, but don't worry. I assure you there's nothing wrong with me. I just haven't been sleeping well lately."
"You need a vacation. You work harder than anyone I know."
"It's not my job," Jocelyn grudgingly admitted.
"Oh? It's a man, isn't it?" her friend asked, bursting with excitement.
Jocelyn blushed and declared, "It's so ridiculous."
Beryl took her by the arm, led her into her private office and shut the door.
"Tell me all about it."
"I only met him once. He's just some kid I met at a diner."
"Kid? How young are we talking?"
"I guess he's about seventeen, maybe eighteen."
"You devil, you!" Beryl laughed.
"It's not like that. I went to this retro Fifties diner, and he came in. We were the only two customers in the place. A song began playing on the jukebox, and he asked me to dance."
"Slow dance?"
"Yes."
"Hot damn! When are you going to see him again?"
"I'm not. I don't know his name or where he lives."
"So that's what's keeping you up at night. Well, my dear, go back to that diner and see if someone there knows who he is."
"Isn't that a little like finding a needle in a haystack?"
"You won't know until you try."
* * *
Despite Beryl's well-meaning advice, Jocelyn did not try to locate Eddie, for she was still uncertain about dating a man who was technically young enough to be her son.
She hoped, with time, she would forget him, but as the weeks passed her thoughts strayed to him more frequently, and Jocelyn found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on her work. Finally, she sought the advice of a doctor.
"What disturbs me most," she confessed to psychiatrist Gemma Alton, an old friend of the family, "is that my memories are becoming distorted."
"In what way?"
"For one thing, my recollection of that night at the diner is getting fuzzy. I can't remember how much I paid for my meal or even if I paid for it at all. I also can't recall seeing Eddie's car when I left. I heard him drive up in one, and yet when I went out to the parking lot, I believe mine was the only one there. And the rest of my memories are starting to get muddled, too. I'm frightened. Lately, I can't distinguish reality from the images I see in my dreams. Sometimes I don't know if I went to school in the 1980s or the 1950s."
Gemma laughed.
"Unless you've discovered a fountain of youth, I should think it's fairly obvious that you're too young to have been alive in the Fifties."
Tears welled up in Jocelyn's eyes.
"I know that, but why do the Fifties suddenly seem more real to me than the Eighties do?"
* * *
That night she again dreamed about Eddie. Once more, she was in Hot Rod's Diner, and the Everly Brothers were playing on the jukebox. She sat at the counter sipping an egg cream soda and waiting for Eddie to arrive. He got there a few minutes later.
"I've been waiting for you," the dream-Jocelyn said.
"I can't stay long," he replied sadly.
"Aren't we going to the football game over in Sterling?"
"It's too late, Jocelyn."
"Don't be silly, it's only 1:30. We've got plenty of time."
"That game was played nearly fifty years ago. You don't remember what happened that day, do you?"
"Fifty years? Are you trying to tell me you died and that you're a ghost?"
"No. I'm very much alive. But I don't live in the same world you do."
"I don't understand."
"Do you remember the story of Peter Pan?"
Jocelyn nodded, looking at him strangely.
"In a way, I'm like Peter. I live in my own Never Never Land, where it's perpetually the 1950s. For a while, you shared that world with me. We were very happy," he said, wistfully touching her cheek with his fingertips. "But then you longed for the real world. You wanted to grow up, get married and have children. You left our Never Never Land behind and embraced the life you now live. From the moment you entered that world, your mind was closed to the one we shared, and you began to age like a normal person. For some reason, you've now started remembering those years."
"It must have been seeing Hot Rod's again," Jocelyn hypothesized.
"No. The diner is part of the dream world in which I live. Something brought you back, but whatever it is, you can't stay here. You've grown up. This place is only for the young."
The jukebox stopped playing golden oldies, and a rap song blared loudly as the diner metamorphosed into the food court of the mall. Eddie was gone, replaced by a group of kids in baggy pants and hooded sweatshirts.
* * *
The following morning Jocelyn called in sick. She could not concentrate on her work with the vestiges of the previous night's dream still haunting her.
It was all nonsense, she told herself, with no real conviction.
Still, she needed proof.
I must have had a birth certificate, she reasoned, but she could honestly not remember ever having seen one.
Then with profound terror, she realized she could not recall her parents' names or the name of the town where she was born.
With no clear goal in mind, she got into her car and headed for Hot Rod's Diner; however, the deserted stretch of road she'd traveled on that night was gone. Now the area was populated with middle-income housing developments and strip malls. Jocelyn slowly retraced her route, looking for the old wooden sign pointing the way to the diner. She never found it.
Unable to find Whitewood, Jocelyn then drove to the Sterling Town Hall. When she explained her quest to the young woman at the front desk, she was directed to the town clerk's office.
"Can I help you?" the clerk asked.
"I hope so. I'm looking for some information on the diner off Route 182."
"You mean Denny's?"
"No. I'm referring to Hot Rod's Diner. It's a retro Fifties place. I'm not sure if it's located in Sterling or Whitewood."
"They're one and the same now. What was once Whitewood is now part of Sterling. Still, there's no place like that off Route 182."
"I ate there about two months ago."
The clerk raised his eyebrows and stared at her.
"Are you sure you got the right town?"
"Could you just check the records, please?"
"But there's no such place ...."
"Humor me, okay?" she asked, producing a twenty-dollar bill as an incentive.
The man went to his computer and pulled up several files.
"I'm sorry. I've searched both the tax rolls and the zoning records. I couldn't find Hot Rod's Diner in either one."
"Hot Rod's?" the elderly tax collector seated across the hall echoed.
"Yes," Jocelyn said eagerly. "Have you ever heard of it?"
"Not in many years."
"But you have heard of it?"
"Sure. My parents took me there a few times when I was a child."
"Could you give me directions? It was dark the night I went there, and now I can't find the turn."
The old woman laughed.
"Honey, that place burned to the ground over forty years ago."
* * *
That night Jocelyn dreamt about Eddie for the final time. She stood in front of Hot Rod's jukebox, read the names of the 45 rpm records it contained and watched the mechanical arm select one. It was Phil and Don Everly's "All I Have to Do is Dream," the song she and Eddie had danced to—what she had come to think of as "their song."
"When I want you, in my arms," Jocelyn sang. "When I want you and all your charms, whenever I want you all I have to do is dream."
Tears of loneliness spilled down her cheeks.
"Don't cry."
Jocelyn jumped, startled.
"I didn't hear you come in."
"I came to say goodbye," Eddie whispered.
Jocelyn realized that she was no longer wearing the poodle skirt, and her hair was not pulled back in a ponytail. Even in her dreams, the magic was coming to an end.
"What will happen now?" she asked.
Eddie shrugged his shoulders.
"Maybe you'll forget all about me like you did before. Or perhaps you'll remember me as a dream, a figment of your imagination."
"What about you, Eddie? Can't you ever escape from this Never Never Land?"
"Escape it? This is a wondrous place that people escape to, not from. I don't ever want to live with the sadness, pain and stress of your world. I'm happy here. I have no responsibilities and nothing to fear—not illness, old age or even death."
"Even paradise can be lonely if you have no one to share it with."
"I'm not lonely," he insisted. "My world has no rules or restrictions, remember?"
The young waitress in the short pink uniform came out of the kitchen.
"Would you like to see a menu, Ma'am?"
Jocelyn looked at the girl, speechless, and shook her head.
"How about you, Eddie? The usual, honey? A couple of hot dogs all the way, French fries, and a root beer?"
Jocelyn hadn't noticed it before, but the waitress bore an uncanny resemblance to a seventeen-year-old Jocelyn Quade.
The older Jocelyn turned to Eddie, who was singing, "I need you so, that I could die. I love you so, and that is why whenever I want you all I have to do is dream."
Jocelyn closed her eyes to stop the tears she was in danger of shedding. When she opened them again, Hot Rod's Diner had been reduced to a heap of smoldering ruins. Shortly thereafter, she woke up. Jocelyn Quade would never again dream of Eddie, for like Peter Pan's Wendy, she was too old to return to Never Never Land.
"All I Have to Do is Dream" © Boudleaux Bryant.
The image in the upper left hand corner is from a Springbok jigsaw puzzle.
Look at who has been hanging around Hot Rod's Diner. (He's probably looking for a free meal.)
