Pink

5. Dot Your I's and Cross Your T's

The diner was quaint. Empty. Peaceful. It smelled of coffee and maybe a hint of bacon. They must've not been very busy until maybe 7. I wondered why his partner, Ryan, was up at this hour probably drinking coffee and a dingy spot like this one.

I was right about her from her clinginess to her menopause. She was probably 50 and had this weird cougar vibe to her. When Reginald sat down next to her uncomfortably, she practically climbed in his lap. If I were him I'd be disgusted. This woman was crusty and looked similar to Joan Rivers before she croaked.

"Hi, I'm Ryan," she extended her hand out to me.

I shook it as if it were contaminated.

"Lola Everest," I smiled tightly in a fake way similar to those rodeo girls in flashy outfits trying to win acceptance and a trophy.

"What a gorgeous name... I've always wanted a girl," she sighed looking over at Alan.

Oh god. This woman had a bad case of late baby fever.

"You could always adopt," I quipped in, "I was adopted. I was supposedly born in France and my parent found me when I was a month old,"

It wasn't an interesting story, but they were fairly sure that I was my moms sister's daughter before she moved back to the States. I don't talk about being adopted because I don't feel like I was.

"Oh really?" She asked interested.

"Yeah, I mean I knew I was adopted pretty early on because my parents have blonde hair and brown eyes. So, genetically, it didn't make sense," I shrugged pointing to my blackish hair cropped into a boy-cut.

"Did you mind that you were adopted?" She asked curiously.

I bit my lip thinking about it.

"Well, that's a tough question," I admitted frankly, "I don't like my parents due to the fact that they are narcissistic, but I'm grateful that they saved me from the life of an unattached human being,"

She nodded apprehensively. I felt like a guru or something.

"If you're going to adopt, make sure the child is a baby or they come from a family that once lived them," I gave her some advice that I read once in a novel my mom made me read.

Mommy knows best.

Reginald gave me this thankful look while Ryan was looking away.

"There's something about physically having a baby that appeals to me. I want that sort of attachment," She smiled wildly with these stars in her eyes.

"My mom did too, but she had no eggs in her ovaries since birth," I looked away, "in my opinion, I'd rather adopt just because there's a special feeling about the idea that you are saving a child from a devastating future. You may think that there would be some special bond, but the bond is all the same. The baby will still be yours. It can't tell the difference between its real mother and you. All mothers earn the title. There's no birthright,"

Ryan had tears in her eyes. This was a touchy suspect.

"Anyway," Reggie diverted the crying session, "how about we get some grub?"

I shrugged from across the booth. I wasn't very hungry especially when Cheryl's lifeless body was at the forefront of my brain.

Someone walked over to us. I recognized their shoes. My eyes dragged up their body to the grey sweatshirt underneath the red apron that held his name tag. PINK. His name was Pink like the color.

I squirmed in my seat. Oh god, he knows now. He's going to kill me. I'm speaking with two pigs, and he'll think that I'm a rat.

"Hello, my name is Pink, can I start you guys with some drinks for the newcomers?" He asked ignoring my penetrative eyes.