Driving on a long dusty road to nowhere, I see a truck stop up ahead. The brightly lit sign advertises, "Max's 24hr Diner. Gas and Go. Mechanic available for your troubles: big and small." I almost drive past when a smaller sign catches my eye. "Last stop till the border," it tells me. The border is at least a three-hour drive away, so I decide to stop for a rest and perhaps something to eat. The toilets, situated in a separate amenities block, are clean and well stocked. I'm impressed; there are even shower stalls for the dusty traveler. I can understand why this might be a popular stop for truck drivers on this route. Only one truck is currently parked in the ample lot. Maybe the time of day is a factor. It's almost midnight.
The interior of the diner is a slight surprise. There are no tables or chairs, just one long counter with bar stools along one side. The opposite wall is lined with comfortable looking couches. Even more of a surprise is the man on the other side of the bar. He looks up, from his conversation with the truck driver perched on a stool, as I walk through the door.
"Pull up a stool and join us," he says with a smile.
I search his face for some glimmer of recognition but find none. It is possible that he doesn't recognize me. It has been years since we last saw each other and I have changed considerably since then. He has changed too, perhaps not as dramatically in looks but to anyone who knew him back then; the changes are fairly obvious. The smile is open and genuine, his posture relaxed. There is no hint of the sadness and guilt that used to haunt his ice blue eyes. The ice has definitely melted there. The immaculate white apron and figure hugging t-shirt he is wearing shows off his physique to perfection. A chef's hat is perched on a jaunty angle attempting to keep his platinum blonde fringe from his face, without success I might add. The mirror behind him reflects the unchanged length of his long hair tied neatly in a ponytail.
"Menu's on the wall," he tells me, gesturing to a blackboard over his shoulder. "Coffee's fresh, would you like some while you decide?"
At my nod, he turns around to fill a mug with steaming hot coffee. My attention is drawn to the back pockets of his rather baggy jeans. Bright red embroidery exclaims on his left pocket, "Hands Off!!" while his right pocket proclaims, "Max's Property," with the same bright splash of red. A chuckle from the man beside me informs me that I must have read those words out loud. I don't quite blush, I hope, as I wait for his reaction. He places the mug before me with an impish grin. Strange that, impish is a description I would never, in a million years, have thought to associate with this man. It makes me wonder who he is now. Even more so, who is Max? Sugar and milk appear before me and I gather the courage to ask, "The pants or the man wearing them?"
"Both," he replies, the grin fading into a softer, teasing smile. "I'm Zee, your short order chef. Decided on your midnight snack yet?"
"His bacon and egg rolls are really good, if you aren't anticholesterol," the truck driver beside me suggests.
I find myself joining in their good humor and smiling. "Sounds good to me."
"One bacon and egg roll, coming up." Zee fires up his stove and gathers the ingredients for my roll. "Tomato or Barbecue sauce?" he asks, not turning around.
"Barbecue, please."
"Make that two, Zee." A warm, friendly voice pipes up behind me. I freeze, an odd fluttering starts in the bottom of my stomach. I know this voice. "Here ya go, Harry. She's all fixed." The jingle of keys being tossed to the man beside me releases me from stasis.
"Thanks, Max," I hear Harry say. The acknowledging chuckle sends shivers up and down my spine. Looking ahead, I see his reflection in the mirror. He's still beautiful. The long chestnut colored braid is draped over his left shoulder, to lie against his chest.
"Two it is," Zee announces while breaking eggs on the hotplate.
"Well, hello, stranger." Max actually bounces onto the counter top. His wide smile is aimed directly at me. "Hi, I'm Max." He thrusts a hand in my direction with his introduction. The smile wavers and the hand is withdrawn when I fail to respond.
Looking directly into his familiar deep violet eyes, I suddenly realize that he doesn't recognize me either. "Tr... Trevor," I manage to stammer out a name for him.
"Nice to meet you, Trevor." Max leans closer to me. "Are you ok? You look like you've just seen a ghost," he asks, looking rather concerned.
Zee places my order on the counter and hands Max his roll. "He's just stunned by your beauty," he suggests, winking at me. I take a deep breath and suddenly the world snaps back into place.
"It's too quiet in here," Max comments before taking a bite of his roll.
Soon, soft music from the radio drifts into the background. "Happy?" Zee returns to wrap his arms around Max's waist. Max leans back, nodding happily and chewing on his mouthful. I barely taste my roll as I watch them lean on each other swaying slightly to the music.
"Be seeing you next time I pass this way, guys." Harry bids them farewell.
Zee smiles. Max waves, saying, "See you next week."
I eat my roll in silence, trying to decide whether to tell them the truth. Piano strains introduce a new song and a woman begins singing, "Baby I've been drifting away and dreaming all day..."
"Of holding you, touching you," Max sings along. "Remember this song?" he whispers to Zee, swinging around to face him and pulling off the chef's hat.
Zee lifts Max off the counter and they melt into each other's arms, dancing slowly to the music.
Max softly sings along to the chorus, "Lets make love. All night long. Until our strength is gone."
Zee joins him and their voices blend together. "Hold on tight. Just let go. I want to feel you in my soul. Until the sun comes up. Let's make love."
Sometime during the song, I make my decision. They don't need to know. No one needs to know.
All too soon the song ends and they stop dancing. Max turns to me and smiles shyly. "That was the first song we ever danced to, together," he tells me almost reverently. "It seems so long ago. Doesn't it, Zee?"
The blonde merely nods, holding Max close, apparently lost in the memory.
Suddenly wanting to leave them alone, I quickly finish off my roll and coffee. "I better get going too," I say, reaching for my wallet.
Max waves a hand at me. "On the house," he casually states. "Drive carefully now."
"Thanks." I smile fondly at them as I open the door of the diner.
"You're welcome," Max calls after me as I step outside. "Come back, anytime..." The rest of his words are lost to my inattention and the closing of the door.
I calmly walk away from them, pleased with my decision, glad that they have managed to build a new life for themselves, together.
It isn't 'til I'm almost at the border that I realize Max's last words to me.
"Come back, anytime you pass this way again, Trowa."
The End
Song: Let's make Love, performed by Faith Hill & Tim McGraw from Faith Hill's "Breathe" Album