“Mom, tell me more about that date, with Dad,” Ginger said, snuggling into the crook of her mom’s arm as they sat together on the couch.

“The whole night felt like it had a string of magic throughout--until it snapped,” Ginger’s mom started. “We met in the park just before sunset. We sat on a bench and watched as the thin, wispy clouds cycled from yellow to deep violet, barely perceptible against the black field dusted with stars. It felt like there was time enough at last.” Ginger looked up to see a dreamy, far away look in her mom’s eyes. “We stayed on that bench until there was a chill in the air. He wrapped his jacket around my shoulders, and we walked from there in the direction of the tunnel.”

“We were just wandering the streets together when we found this little diner. It was a complete anachronism--something out of the 50s, maybe. A waitress out front, cook in the back--maybe--I can’t recall. Waitress looked a lot like you, but with hair a dark bottled red. Last customer walked out as we walked in--we had the place to ourselves. She seemed to know exactly what we’d want--milkshake for me, coffee and chocolate pie for your dad.”

Ginger checked her hair once more in the mirror, then adjusted the uniform she had lifted. She stepped out of the back as the young couple passed the customer leaving. For a moment she was in awe of how young her mother looked as they sat down in a booth before walking up to them.

“Hi. What can I get for you two? Pie?”

“You have pie?” the boy asked.

“Chocolate,” Ginger replied, a tingle running down her spine at his voice. “Coffee to wash it down?”

“Perfect,” he replied.

“And for you, Miss?” She looked her over. “You look like a milkshake kind of girl. Strawberry?”

“How’d you--”

“Call it a gift,” Ginger said over her shoulder as she stepped away from the table.

“Your father must’ve been watching me closer than I thought; he apparently had picked up a few of my tricks. As we sat at the table he took a twig from his pocket and made it a loop. When he took my hand and slid it on my finger, there were no ends visible, and it started to bloom,” her mom said, playing with the ring she still wore, running a finger lightly around the small closed bud that rode atop it.

“One slice chocolate pie, one coffee, one house special strawberry milkshake.” Ginger said as she unburdened her tray. “And here’s your straw. Need any creamer for the coffee?” The boy shook his head. “Okay, need anything just let me know.”

“There was something about that milkshake. I’ve tried over the years to replicate it, but no luck.” Ginger’s mom mused, licking her lips. “We sat there like we were the only two people in the world; I have no idea how long it was, or when they were supposed to close. I don’t know how she did it, but our waitress kept us refilled without us calling her. We weren’t even aware when she did it.”

“Probably just an experience,” Ginger offered.

After cleaning the counter Ginger toyed with some inconsequential magics as she watched the two lovers in the booth with a hint of sadness. They seemed wrapped in a spell of their own making, a spell of love that made them unaware of the world around them. They had no idea what awaited them when they left the diner. It was one of many outcomes, but one she knew neither could imagine; it was the only one she was not allowed to change.

“I remember just before we left, when he went to the bathroom, the waitress told me something. I’d been waiting for a good time; if it hadn’t been for what she said, he might have never known.”

Ginger cleaned another tabletop as she watched the boy get up and go to the back. When he was out of sight, she whispered. “You need to tell him, sooner rather than later.”

“I was looking for the right time.”

“There’s never a ‘right time’, there is only the time you have now,” Ginger replied, refilling a salt shaker.

Ginger wiped a tear from her mother’s cheek.

“I went back to that restaurant afterward, but no one recognized the waitress, and the shakes were never the same.” Ginger’s mom said wistfully. “I never got to thank her for the advice.”

“That reminds me,” Ginger said as she got up. “I’ve got something for you.”

She returned with a bright pink milkshake. Her mom’s eyes widened with the first sip.

“How’d you--”

“Call it a gift,” Ginger smiled.

(Word count: 794. Please let me know what you like/dislike about the post. Thank you in advance for your time and attention. Other works can also be found linked in r/atcroft_wordcraft.)

Part 1: Smash 'Em Up Sunday: Urban Fantasy