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Nov 2021
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Diverse crowd, sizzling foods, memorabilia's from the 1950s surrounds the San Francisco diner. Morning sun shines bright with the mild temperatures outdoors. Sidewalk's busy with pedestrians walking to work or local restaurants, or catching public transportation to their destinations.
Tavon sits at the booth, navy Emporio Armani tracksuit and Tuff Crowd dad hat, staring across the diner at the full-figured Afro-Panamanian woman with rich caramel skin and soft, lengthy hair pulled low in a ponytail as she hands each of the four plates to the customers with a bright smile on her lips.
She says her last words to the four customers and foots in his direction, reaching for her notepad without noticing him there. Five tables down, she stops on side of his booth, clicking her pen and says, "Sorry for the wait. I'm Maria, your server today. What can I get you?"
Staring at the woman, he realizes how healthy and clean she looks. "Na'. . . I'll prolly just take a tea. Cheeks."
Jotting down his drink on her notes pauses when she hears the nickname only one person in the world called her. The nickname, Cheeks, was given for two reasons— she's always had nice cheekbones and she had more ass on her than anything.
She looks at him slowly, watching the smile on his face.
"You ain't gon' speak to me, Cheeks?"
"What. . ." the Afro-Panamanian becomes tongue tied. "How'd you—"
"Maria?" She turns around at the sound of her name. A older man in a grease stained chef top stands behind the counter. "I get you're off soon, but does not mean lag around. Get to work."
Maria nods and turns back around to look eyes with Tavon. She clears her throat and says, "Um. . . I'm sure I know you don't really want a tea. You want to talk. So... I get off in," she glances at her wristwatch, "ten minutes. We can talk then, yeah?"
