drunk and seemingly destined to follow in his dad’s footsteps, rose from his table and lumbered toward her. For the past forty minutes, he’d sat quietly in a corner booth, the only customer.
“Gotta go outside since I can’t smoke in this joint,” he mumbled. “What’s wrong with you people? A little smoke never hurt nobody.”
“I disagree.” Sarah stood her ground, hoping he’d turn around and go back to his table. “I’m sure you know Myrna’s husband died last year from lung problems. The doctors said it was caused by all those cancer sticks he inhaled on a daily basis.”
“Spoken just like a nurse.” Holding onto the back of a booth, Merle swayed.
“His lungs were black, Merle. They did an autopsy. Ask Doc Meriweather.”
He waved his hand. “Ah, come on, Nurse Sarah. How about some mouth to mouth? Put that pretty mouth to better use than criticizing my vices.” When he stumbled forward, Sarah spied the top of a liquor bottle sticking out of his pants pocket. Usually he kept his bottles—and his inebriation—to himself.
“Oh, Merle.” What a sad figure he painted. Why did people seek solace in alcohol? Addiction was a foreign concept to her, but she’d heard from others how it could be all-consuming, fueled by anything from loneliness and heartbreak to a sense of hopelessness. Still, she’d probably never fully understand the reasons if she lived to be a hundred years old. Not that her heart didn’t break for those suffering from such addictions. She’d hoped his father’s death from alcoholism might have sobered up Merle once and for all.
“Just one little kiss. Be nice to old Merle. I’m not that bad lookin’, am I? Ain’t that old either. I still got all my working parts.”
Clutching the back of a chair, Sarah positioned it between her and Merle, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Why did it have to be one of those rare nights when Myrna hadn’t been feeling well and had headed home early? Considering she’d worked at the diner forever, Sarah knew the owner trusted her to clean up and lock the diner for the night. But how could either of them had known Merle would get drunk and act like this?
Jimmy was in the kitchen washing dishes, so she wasn’t completely alone. At thirty minutes before closing, she didn’t expect any more customers. Tonight, she wouldn’t mind if a group of kids decided to come in late for malts and fries.
“You’re the best lookin’ woman in Rockbridge,” Merle said. “Some of the guys might think that sister of yours is the fox, but that chick’s a-a big te-tease. You’re the special one, Sar-Sarah.” He moved closer and started to reach for her hair. “So pretty with all your blonde hair. Gorgeous”—his eyes scanned her figure—“everywhere. I bet you’d look—”
She had no intention of hearing the rest of that sentence. “That’s enough out of you, Merle. Sit down, and I’ll go pour you an extremely strong cup of black coffee. You have no business going out on the roads in this condition.”
“I’m fi—fine.” His gaze rest on her. “So are you.”
Sarah aimed a nervous glance in the direction of the kitchen. If she called out to Jimmy for any reason, he’d come running as best as his bum leg would allow. Not that she was afraid of Merle. She could handle him, but she’d never seen him so drunk that he’d slurred his words and made advances toward her. Although his words and insinuations made her uncomfortable, she didn’t believe Merle would ever touch her inappropriately. The man was all talk. Still, best not to tempt anything.
“Sit down. Now.” She infused her voice with as much authority as she could muster.
“Whoa,” he said, stumbling backwards. “Now you sound like my mama, God rest her soul. Don’t need you tellin’ me what to do, too. I’m the man, you hear me?” Merle’s voice had risen, and he glared at her.
Sarah’s eyes widened. Hearing the bell on the door as it closed, she glanced
“Gotta go outside since I can’t smoke in this joint,” he mumbled. “What’s wrong with you people? A little smoke never hurt nobody.”
“I disagree.” Sarah stood her ground, hoping he’d turn around and go back to his table. “I’m sure you know Myrna’s husband died last year from lung problems. The doctors said it was caused by all those cancer sticks he inhaled on a daily basis.”
“Spoken just like a nurse.” Holding onto the back of a booth, Merle swayed.
“His lungs were black, Merle. They did an autopsy. Ask Doc Meriweather.”
He waved his hand. “Ah, come on, Nurse Sarah. How about some mouth to mouth? Put that pretty mouth to better use than criticizing my vices.” When he stumbled forward, Sarah spied the top of a liquor bottle sticking out of his pants pocket. Usually he kept his bottles—and his inebriation—to himself.
“Oh, Merle.” What a sad figure he painted. Why did people seek solace in alcohol? Addiction was a foreign concept to her, but she’d heard from others how it could be all-consuming, fueled by anything from loneliness and heartbreak to a sense of hopelessness. Still, she’d probably never fully understand the reasons if she lived to be a hundred years old. Not that her heart didn’t break for those suffering from such addictions. She’d hoped his father’s death from alcoholism might have sobered up Merle once and for all.
“Just one little kiss. Be nice to old Merle. I’m not that bad lookin’, am I? Ain’t that old either. I still got all my working parts.”
Clutching the back of a chair, Sarah positioned it between her and Merle, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. Why did it have to be one of those rare nights when Myrna hadn’t been feeling well and had headed home early? Considering she’d worked at the diner forever, Sarah knew the owner trusted her to clean up and lock the diner for the night. But how could either of them had known Merle would get drunk and act like this?
Jimmy was in the kitchen washing dishes, so she wasn’t completely alone. At thirty minutes before closing, she didn’t expect any more customers. Tonight, she wouldn’t mind if a group of kids decided to come in late for malts and fries.
“You’re the best lookin’ woman in Rockbridge,” Merle said. “Some of the guys might think that sister of yours is the fox, but that chick’s a-a big te-tease. You’re the special one, Sar-Sarah.” He moved closer and started to reach for her hair. “So pretty with all your blonde hair. Gorgeous”—his eyes scanned her figure—“everywhere. I bet you’d look—”
She had no intention of hearing the rest of that sentence. “That’s enough out of you, Merle. Sit down, and I’ll go pour you an extremely strong cup of black coffee. You have no business going out on the roads in this condition.”
“I’m fi—fine.” His gaze rest on her. “So are you.”
Sarah aimed a nervous glance in the direction of the kitchen. If she called out to Jimmy for any reason, he’d come running as best as his bum leg would allow. Not that she was afraid of Merle. She could handle him, but she’d never seen him so drunk that he’d slurred his words and made advances toward her. Although his words and insinuations made her uncomfortable, she didn’t believe Merle would ever touch her inappropriately. The man was all talk. Still, best not to tempt anything.
“Sit down. Now.” She infused her voice with as much authority as she could muster.
“Whoa,” he said, stumbling backwards. “Now you sound like my mama, God rest her soul. Don’t need you tellin’ me what to do, too. I’m the man, you hear me?” Merle’s voice had risen, and he glared at her.
Sarah’s eyes widened. Hearing the bell on the door as it closed, she glanced
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