21 Jump Street (Tom Hanson)

The Tenth Year

July 2000

Every year, I go to the diner in Greenville that I went to with Tom years ago. It's been years since I've seen him, and he should be allowed to leave Virginia pretty soon. He hasn't called me yet, and I don't blame him. He's probably got his own life in Virginia, and he doesn't need to be reminded of his old one.

When I think of Tom, or hear his name I am no longer blinded by the misery of him no longer being in my life. Even though I will cherish him for the rest of my life, I'm happy that the feelings of loss and pain are over and I'm thankful to be free from the heartache. It hurts to say, but I'm beginning to forget Tom like he has forgotten me.

I pulled up to the diner and was greeted with familiar neon lights and the intoxicating smell of burgers and fries. It's been a whole year since I've been here, but I think I'd come more often if it was closer to Metropolis. The food is so good, and it makes me feel closer to Tom.

I walked in and the door let out a chime. One of the employees came out from the kitchen to greet me. She had crinkles by her eyes when she smiled, and she wore the same waitress uniform that I've always seen the employees in.

She grabbed a menu for me and greeted, "evening, Peaches! Nice to see you again."

I was a little taken aback by the nickname, until I realized that I recognized her as the waitress who served me all those years ago when I dropped my peach pie right in front of her. I haven't seen her since, so I guess I've always come on her day off. I laughed in astonishment and said, "you remembered."

"I remember all the customers who drop the pie," she chuckled. "Booth?"

"Yes, please."

"Follow me," she said and led me to a booth by a window. "Where's that handsome boyfriend of yours?"

I sighed and said, "at work."

"He sure is a sweetheart. Do you want a menu?"

"No thanks," I said. I didn't need the menu because I always order the same thing. A burger and a coke, as well as their delicious anniversary peach pie. She took my easy order, and went into the kitchen.

I put my purse down next to me on the booth bench and pulled out the painting that the stranger did of me and Tom so long ago. I know it's silly, but it made it feel like he was still here. I studied the painting and looked out the window. I compared the painting to what I could see out of the window and realized that I was sitting in the same booth.

While I was waiting for my food, I realized that it had been ten years, exactly the amount of time that Tom promised to meet back here for me. I've had ten birthdays since he left, and every wish was for him. I wasn't going to call to remind him... it's been years and he was probably a stranger to me now. I often wonder if he still thinks about me.

I tried to move on, but it was nearly impossible. Even though I have not seen him physically in years, no one could take his place. No one held a candle to Tom. I still loved him. He was the one love of my life.

There were a pile of newspapers on the bar counter of the diner, so I helped myself to one and sat back in my booth. I held the paper up as I read the front page and I heard the door chime. I didn't pay any mind to it, and I kept reading. That was until I heard someone clear his throat beside me.

I looked up and over at the man standing next to me. He was wearing all denim, and his hair was buzzed to his scalp. I had never seen him before in my life. He said in a thick New York accent, "I saw youse through the window and I was wondering if I could get your number?"

I know that I should at least try to give people a chance, but I was getting weird vibes from this man. I repositioned the paper in my hands as I flipped to the next page and I said to him dryly, "pass."