Corey Merrill

A CUP OF JOE

Some nights I just like to go out and drive by myself with the music turned up loud. A few weeks ago I had one of those nights. I’d had a horrible day at school, a fight with my best friend, parent problems, and a lot on my mind. So, after dinner I grabbed the keys to my ‘93 Honda Accord and took off.

                  I was soon heading south on Route 128. The stars were out, and I turned up “Sweet Home Alabama” on the radio and reached for the half-eaten Snickers bar on the dashboard. Things were looking better—I had music, chocolate, and the open road all to myself. But about twenty minutes later I looked down at the fuel gauge and realized that I was almost out of gas. I guess that figures; usually when I’m the most worn down my car is running on empty too. After a sigh of annoyance I drove until I saw a sign for a gas station and diner and took the exit. After filling up my car with gas, I decided I might as well get something to eat, so I walked over to Chuck’s Diner. I pushed open the door and walked past a gumball machine and an ashtray, through a small foyer and over a dirty “Welcome” mat. There were red vinyl booths on both sides of me, and a long white counter straight ahead with red vinyl stools to sit on. A few people sat scattered in different booths, but the counter was empty, so I went over to it and sat down. The place was lit by harsh, florescent lights, and the smell of deep fried food made my stomach turn. I was flipping through the songs on the mini jukebox at the counter when a heavy-set, middle-aged man wearing a greasy apron stretched over his potbelly appeared from behind the counter. When he handed me a wrinkled grease-stained menu, and I wondered why the place wasn’t called “Grease Pit” instead of “Chuck’s Diner,” but I figured it would be too rude to ask.

                  “That’s all right, I don’t need a menu. I’ll just have coffee,” I told him. He seemed to fit right in with the diner. His greasy brown hair was thinning, and he was growing it longer to compensate. Aside from the apron he wore, he had on brown pants that were held up by a black belt, and a white button down short-sleeved shirt that was tucked into his pants. His shirt was thin and cheap and I could see the wife-beater that he was wearing under it. He seemed a little sweaty, and I was glad I hadn’t ordered any food. “It’s always good to know exactly what you want,” he responded, and proceeded to introduce himself.

                  “My name’s Joe,” he told me as he handed me a mug of steaming coffee. “You seem like you need someone to talk to so I figured I’d introduce myself.”

“Oh,” I replied, not quite sure what to say. “I’m Alise.”

                  “Alise, huh? That’s a pretty unusual name, but it’s nice.” After an awkward silence when he just stood behind the counter and I was just hoping he’d go away and leave me to myself, he asked, “So what brings you here at night all alone?”

                  I was kind of irritated by his chatter when I only wanted to sit and sulk about my bad day, but I replied, “Oh, um, I just wanted to get out of the house. You know, parents and stuff, they can really get on your nerves.” Hoping that he would take the hint that I didn’t want to have a conversation, I stared down at my coffee and stirred it a little.

                  “Yeah, I understand the parent trouble,” he told me. “My parents used to nag me all the time. It can really get to you after a while.” I unwillingly continued to have small talk with him and ended up telling him that I was seventeen, sick of high school, and only wanted to make it to summer vacation. He told me he understood, but that he wished he could be seventeen again so he could redo everything he did wrong.

                  “What do you mean by that?” I asked him to be polite.

                  “Well,” he said, “I have one big regret. I didn’t finish high school, so I couldn’t go to college. I dropped out when I was seventeen, and my parents made me leave the house because of it. So I’ve been working odd jobs ever since. I’m 38 now—Hell, I’ve been working at Chuck’s for three years.”

                  “So why’d you do it?” I asked.

                  “Well, I was so young that I had no idea what I was really doing,” he

told me. He left it at that, unwilling to continue.

                  “Oh, I understand,” was all I replied.

                  “Did you have a bad day or something?” he asked me after a short silence.

                  “That’s the understatement of the year,” I answered. “I had the most horrible day ever.” I proceeded to tell him about the huge fight my best friend Lauren and I had gotten into at lunch today, about how when I told her she couldn’t copy my homework, she blew up at me. Then I told him about how my parents are always on my case about my grades and how they think I don’t study enough, when they just don’t understand how hard school is today.

                  “Parents don’t understand anything, I swear. They’re only around to make your life more complicated and miserable.” In a downward spiral of self-pity I added, “My life sucks.”

                  After a long pause Joe said to me, “You know, you have it really good. It’s just too bad you don’t know it.”

                  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped at him.

                  “Well, at least you have a family. I come from a broken home. At least you have friends to fight with; some kids don’t. You’re still in school, and you even have your own car. You are so lucky. There are always going to be problems with everything—be grateful that your problems aren’t so serious. Try to look on the bright side; look at what you do have.” I couldn’t believe I was hearing all this from a man I didn’t even know. He was making me feel worse with his guilt-trip about how my problems were so trivial.

                  “Yeah, okay,” was all I said as I paid the check and stormed out of the diner. I slammed the car door shut, and muttered, “What a jerk” before starting the engine. What did he know about my life anyway? Who did he think he was telling me all that? My life was a lot harder than he thought it was.

                  In an attempt to take my mind off my conversation with Joe, I turned on the radio. I was flipping though the stations trying to find something worth listening to when I heard the name “Courtney Miller” on a news station. Courtney Miller? She went to my high school, so why was she on the news? The report continued: “Courtney Miller who attended Katonah High School was returning home from Lewisborough when her car skidded on a gravel road, spun out of control, and hit a telephone pole. It appears that she died immediately after the impact. She was found at four o’clock this afternoon. There was no one else in the car with her. Details of a memorial service will be announced later in Katonah.”

                  I couldn’t believe it. I never really got to know Courtney, but she was in my grade at school, and I knew who she was. Her father had died a few years ago, and she lived with her mother and sister, who she didn’t get along with. She didn’t have many friends, and people considered her a loner. Although she was pretty smart, her family would have trouble paying for college, so her options were limited. When you live in a town as small as Katonah, you know a lot about everyone.

                  Now she was gone. Killed in a stupid accident. Why hadn’t I taken the time to make friends with her? Why had I ignored her in the halls, never saying hi? I turned the radio off and drove the rest of the way home in silence. It was hard to think clearly, but I remembered what Joe had told me earlier that night. “You are so lucky…be grateful your problems aren’t so serious. Try to look on the bright side, look at what you do have.” I realized suddenly that Joe was right. I am lucky. I have friends and family and a bright future to look forward to, unlike a lot of people. Courtney didn’t have that, and now she never will. Joe didn’t have it easy either. How had I been so blind to everything I had? It had taken a conversation with a high school dropout, and a tragic event to make me realize my own good fortune. I decided to take Joe’s advice and be thankful for what I have, and to try to think more about others, rather than just my own problems. When I finally made it home, tears of sadness for Courtney and shame for myself blurred my vision. I went to my room but couldn’t fall asleep. I had too much to think about.

                  It’s amazing how your life can change so much in just one day.