Cyrus stayed at the diner longer than usual.
The lunch crowd came and went.
A waitress replaced the sugar containers.
The kitchen door swung open and closed.
Still, we remained in Booth 4.
I didn't want him to leave yet.
There were too many things I wanted to ask.
But I also knew that he had carried these memories for years.
I didn't want to turn the conversation into an interrogation.
So I asked him one thing at a time.
"Did you ever think about visiting my mother?"
He looked down.
"Yes."
"Did you know her?"
"Only through what Jimmy told me."
I nodded.
I remembered how little my mother had spoken about the war.
Maybe she had been trying to protect me.
Maybe she had been protecting herself.
I would never know.
"Did you know she was alive when you found me?"
Cyrus nodded.
"I knew you had lost her."
I looked at the envelope.
"So you knew I was alone."
He shook his head.
"Not completely. You had people around you. I could see that."
I didn't ask how much he had learned.
It was enough that he had found me.
He looked at the second coffee.
"I used to wonder whether I should order it."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because sometimes I felt foolish sitting here."
I looked at him.
"You weren't foolish."
He gave a quiet laugh.
"I suppose I needed somebody to tell me that."
I glanced at the empty chair.
"You can sit here whenever you want."
He looked up.
"Even when it's not the anniversary?"
"Especially when it's not the anniversary."
His expression changed.
He seemed to be considering something he had never allowed himself to consider before.
"I wouldn't want to intrude."
"You've been coming here for years. You're hardly an intruder."
He smiled.
I smiled back.
Then I reached for the coffee pot.
"Would you like a refill?"
He nodded.
"Just mine."
I poured it carefully.
The second cup remained untouched.
I didn't move it.
I didn't ask whether he wanted it removed.
I understood now.
It wasn't an extra order.
It was a place kept for somebody who could never return.
And I didn't want to take that away from him.
Cyrus looked at me.
"Thank you, Roberta."
I shook my head.
"You don't have to thank me."
He looked at the envelope.
"I think I do."
I couldn't argue.
A few minutes later, he began gathering his things.
I noticed he had placed his wallet back in his jacket.
I reached for the bill.
"Today is on me."
He looked surprised.
"Roberta."
"Please."
He studied my face.
Then he nodded.
"All right."
I picked up the two cups.
He stopped me.
"Leave that one."
I looked at the second cup.
Then I put it down again.
"Of course."
He stood.
I stood too.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then he reached out and touched my shoulder.
"I wish Jimmy could have met you as a grown woman."
I swallowed.
"So do I."
He nodded.
"I think he would have liked this place."
I looked around the diner.
The old counter.
The scratched tables.
The noisy coffee machine.
"Probably."
Cyrus walked toward the entrance.
The bell rang as he opened the door.
He paused outside and looked back.
I lifted my hand.
He lifted his.
Then he walked away.
I returned to Booth 4.
The envelope was in my hands.
The photograph was inside.
The letter was inside.
I looked at the second coffee.
For years, I had treated it like an unusual order.
Now I knew it was the closest thing Cyrus had been able to give my father.
And I had been part of that promise without knowing it.
I sat down in the empty chair.
Just for a minute.
I looked at the seat across from me.
I imagined my father sitting there.
Not as a soldier.
Not as a name on a document.
Just as a young man having coffee with his friend.
I wished I could have heard them talk.
I wished I could have asked him what he wanted for his daughter.
But I couldn't.
All I could do was sit there.
And remember.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: When I Finally Looked At The Two Coffees Differently, I Realized That My Father’s Friend Had Never Really Been Sitting Alone
The Old Marine Who Came Back Every Year and Ordered Two Coffees Had Left Something Behind That Changed Everything I Knew About My Father
Part 7 of 10
