Even if I didn’t have to get up before dawn for work, I would have. It was one of the many habits that had stuck with me over time. My eyes would snap open at four-thirty no matter what time I went to sleep or what day of the week. I didn’t need an alarm clock.

I got up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. It was dark, and the world was quiet. Probably my favorite time of day, when life was most peaceful. I went to the bathroom for a quick shower and shave, then dressed in my typical t-shirt and jeans before making my bed. No matter if I was in a hurry, my bed always got made. I wouldn’t feel right if I left the house with the sheets balled up.

I never bothered with coffee or breakfast before leaving, since I made it when I got to the diner. It was only a few minutes’ drive from the little house I rented in the center of town to the diner’s back door. I was always the first person to show up and was always there before five. By the time Al and Mike came in, I already had the grills heated and the coffee going out front. I’d usually fry myself up an egg or two while they pulled their setup together—vegetables for omelets, diced potatoes for home fries, batter for pancakes and waffles. By the time we opened at six, Debbie and whoever was working the tables with her that morning would have their beverage service set up and plenty of hot water ready for tea.

It was always a whirlwind from there. Usually, the old timers came in earliest since they never slept late. The Crosbys and Winklers were two of my favorite couples—both married for more than fifty years, both taking their usual spots every single morning at a booth near the door. They’d catch up, even though I didn’t know what they had to catch up on since they saw each other every morning. The men would pull out their newspapers while the women gossiped and laughed like high school girls.

Working folks came in between seven and eight—teachers, bus drivers, bank tellers, that sort of thing. The place would be full to bursting before long, but we were a well-oiled machine. I could trust Debbie to keep her girls moving on the floor—we could’ve used her back in boot camp. I moved back and forth between keeping things going in the kitchen and ringing up checks.

Time always flew when it got busy like that, and I loved it. I loved every minute. That was one thing Amanda would never understand. She got her excitement from big buildings and flashing lights and fast cars. I got mine from talking about last night’s ball game and making sure coffee cups were always full. I got it from seeing people meet up in my diner and hug and catch up on the news. They were my friends, and they counted on my people and me to keep them fed and happy. That was more than enough for me. I’d had my fill of excitement.

How the hell had I started thinking about her all of a sudden? She crept up in the back of my mind whenever I wasn’t too busy making sure tables were cleared fast enough to seat the people waiting by the door.

Word had started trickling out about Craig. I saw more than a few sad faces that particular morning and heard more than few stories about him. How he had waived the bill more than once for people down on their luck. Mrs. Swenson’s husband had suffered a heart attack after losing his job at the paper mill and had needed a lot of follow-up care, but Craig never accepted a cent. She told me with tears in her eyes about how caring he always was. It seemed like everybody felt the same away about him. That was something Amanda didn’t understand. Craig might not have been a big name in the medical community, but he was a big name in our community. He made people’s lives better. Did she?

Debbie’s hand on my shoulder surprised me. I was too deep in thought to notice that she was trying to get my attention before that. “Where are you today?” she asked. “How are you holding up?”

I shrugged. “All right, I guess. It is what it is.” I had seen a lot of death. Life went on.

That wasn’t enough for her, of course. It was nice that she saw herself as my surrogate mother, but I wasn’t in need of one just then. I was in need of a waitress who could keep tables turning over even when the customers wanted to sit around and talk about Craig. I appreciated their feelings but had to make money, too.

And all morning, all I could do was wonder when she would come in. I looked for that blonde hair, almost brown. I listened for the sound of her voice—no matter how many other people were talking, I could always make out the honey-richness of Amanda’s voice.

Why would she come in? She had to know how pissed I was when I left the house. She wouldn’t want to see me. Damn it—twenty years had passed, but we might as well have been back in high school. We’d get into fights over stupid things that seemed like the end of the world to a teenager, ignore each other for a few days, then get back together and tear each other’s clothes off.

I couldn’t help stiffening a little in my pants when I remembered how hot it would get when we made up after a big fight. It wasn’t like I had lived a monk’s life since she left town. No way was I going twenty years without getting laid. But she was the best, no question. It wasn’t just her body or the crazy teenage passion we felt back then. There was something to be said for being with somebody I loved, even though it was only supposed to be women who felt that way about sex. Weren’t men only supposed to care about getting off? It was just that the difference was obvious to me. There was everybody else, and there was her. And the others were hot, too. Sexy. Fun. Good in a way sex wasn’t when you were a kid—yeah, we had a ton of energy back then, but no experience.

If she was still the one I couldn’t forget, process of elimination told me the only thing missing from those other times was love.

Scott and Frank came in for lunch, and I saw pain in Scott’s eyes. “Now I know why Greenley’s back,” he muttered with a sad smile.

“Yeah. I didn’t think it was up to me to spread the news.”

He nodded. “Funny how something like this makes you feel a lot less…young. If it can happen to him…and he was one of the healthiest people I knew, too. I mean, aren’t doctors supposed to know about stuff like that, how to keep from ending up with cancer?”

I shook my head. “He was just a person, buddy. Just like you and me.”

“Nah. He wasn’t like you and me. He was different.” He took a table with Frank, and they ordered their lunch.

Scott was right. Craig was different, the way Amanda was different. Most of us were satisfied with a normal life, nothing special. Working at the garage or the school or library. Getting married, having a couple kids. No big deal.

Then there were people like my closest friends. Everybody knew they were bound for bigger and better things. They made me feel pretty stupid most of the time, actually, with all their brains and the grades they got. On top of that, Amanda ran half the clubs in school and Craig headed the other half. They were stars. I was just the lackey who followed behind them. How much of that was just in my head? I wasn’t sure. But it had felt pretty shitty sometimes, knowing they would move on and leave me behind.

It was a good reminder that I needed to be careful with her. She had always had big dreams. I wasn’t part of that. Of course, I had told her not to bother coming back, too. That hadn’t helped.

“Dawson? We need help back here.” Debbie was up to her ears in platters sitting in the window, waiting to get delivered. I jumped into action and was glad to have the excuse to stop thinking about Amanda Greenley. I didn’t need the distraction. She would leave again and things would go back to normal.