Senior Special

By Vickie Wippel

          Eldon Belafonte’s blue eyes could get him anything. They sparkled like Sinatra’s. At least they used to. In high school, they made him homecoming king and got his girlfriend knocked up all in the same year. Now, he winked, and the server brought coffee. “She must think I’m cute,” he smiled slyly to his daughter, Pearl, sitting across the booth from him. Eldon and Pearl had a Thursday morning ritual. At
8:10am, after she dropped the kids off at school, the father and daughter would meet at the Denny’s on Bellflower Avenue. For seven years, since his last wife went packing, taking her pension and their shared Cadillac with her, Eldon and Pearl met for breakfast. 
          Roxanne, the server, guessed their order without handing them the menu. “Let’s see—Senior
Grand Slam for you, sir, and ma’am, the fruit salad and red skin potatoes.” Eldon beamed. Roxanne, a Filipina immigrant with the names of her babies tattooed in cursive on her forearms, sure was sweet to folks who left mostly dimes for a tip. Though Eldon tipped well. Because Eldon saw himself as the man he used to be, back when he slicked his hair and wore sports coats to steak dinners and racetracks.
Roxanne smiled back at him like a social worker listening to a client. He felt so important. 
          “Tell me, Roxy, have you been staying out of trouble?” Eldon leaned over to her as he talked, 
like they were on a date, showing a bit of gunk in his dentures in his smile. His hair, thin but still combed, looked yellow; his nails looked yellow; his eyes looked yellow. Like the walls in homes owned by smokers, his body was stained by fifty years of nicotine build up. A habit he never intended to break.   
          Roxane said what she always said, “Always, I stay out of trouble,” while she surveyed her other
tables. Pearl told her dad to knock it off. This conversation, like the senior special, was served on repeat. And, like the food, it never got any better and never got any worse. At Denny’s, you knew exactly what you were going to get.
          Pearl had her first sip of Denny’s dark roast. After seven years, there was almost nothing left on the menu she could stomach, but they made a great cup of coffee. Piping hot. She breathed it in and smiled. Her dad smiled, too, enjoying his own world—his stare as vacant as the adjacent Kmart parking
lot. 
          Pearl returned to the script and asked about his weekend plans. The doctors weren’t concerned about his fading memory and the daily declines she had been taking note of. When she insisted that they administer a cognitive test, Eldon aced it. Later, she learned the test focused on days of the week and weather patterns—his two favorite subjects. His doctors should come join them for breakfast.
          “Not doing much, Pearl Girl.” Eldon really had the sweetest smile. There was a reason he had married so many times. “There’s a hockey game on. Have I told you, I really like watching ice hockey?”
          “Yep, you’ve taught me all about the Dallas Stars.” His eyes lit up like a kid’s when he talked about hockey. But his eyes had also been yellowing over the last few weeks. More than the nicotine.
WebMD told her it was either macular degeneration, liver disease, or kidney cancer. 
          “Hey, Dad, what happened at your doctor appointment this week?” She took a bite of fruit salad. The grapes had been frozen then defrosted. 
          “I dunno, honey. I think they vant to suck my blood.” Eldon always said this in a voice like a vampire after he had bloodwork done.
          Those mornings, Pearl watched the other patrons-- families, seniors, and solitary diners. More people ate alone than she ever imagined. Like Eldon and her, these folks would slide in and out of red vinyl booths—toddlers smashing eggs and dropping crayons from dingy grey highchairs, older folks holding the menu into the light to read better. She watched old ladies wrap meat scraps in greasy, used paper napkins to take home to their shih tzus. Pearl could write a dissertation on geriatric populations based on what she had noticed. But she never considered herself part of the case study.
          Their food arrived. Roxanne always remembered extra margarine for Eldon’s toast. It looked like a heart attack to Pearl but rounded out Eldon’s diet of Marlboros and Mars Bars. He got a kick out the fact that his favorites things sounded likes Mars. “I must be an alien, Pearl Girl,” he said. By her math, she’d heard this line more than three hundred times. He cut his food up and moved it around the plate, not eating much. 
          Roxanne returned to refill their coffee. Eldon always played Shave and a Hair Cut on the side of his mug with his spoon when he was done adding creamer. Dunt, dunt, duh, dunt, dunt, dunt dunt. Then he pushed his food away. There’s no way he would remember that he also pushed his food away last week because he had just asked Pearl for the second time that morning if she liked hockey. 
          Pearl also lost her appetite. She knew what was happening to Eldon, what was happening to her, because she had watched it happen to others so many times before. Tables of seniors would show up for breakfast at the same day, same time. Just like them. The older couples didn’t talk much—what could there be left to say? But friends held lively conversations about grandchildren and pickle ball. They shared internet scams so deftly avoided. I knew better than to send a MoneyGram to Nigeria—ha! As predictable as a sunset, the groups would slowly dwindle. A table for four became a table for three. A table for two became a table for one. Sometimes, the change happened slowly: a diner would start wearing leg braces before moving to a walker. Then she’d be wheeled in by a health aide. On their final visit, the aide would spoon a few bites of oatmeal into paper-thin lips. A sad, sad swan song. Pearl had never seen a diner come in for a second bowl of oatmeal. Then again, sometimes, folks just stopped showing up. 
          “Dad, Conner has a t-ball game this weekend.” Pearl rubbed her hand across her forehead, pinching her eyebrows together; she knew it was pointless to even try—her dad said no to everything but breakfast. But Pearl did not know what else to say. 
          “No, thanks, honey.” His dentures clinked a little when he talked this early in the morning. Eldon told her before that it happens when the glue’s still drying. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m saving my Saturdays in case I get a date.” Although the ratio of guys to dolls at Regency Palms was likes seashells to sand particles, his daughter winced at the thought of him trying to dust off his old dating moves. Eldon hadn’t changed his jeans since Pearl did his laundry the week before.
          “Just don’t go break anyone’s heart.” She leaned across the table towards him. “Hey, Dad, aren’t you hungry?” If he ate, everything would be okay. If he ate, then it was just macular degeneration, and she wouldn’t have to worry about losing the first love of her life. If he just had a few bites, she wouldn’t have to worry about what to do next. She would see him back at the restaurant next Thursday.   
          A group of regulars stopped by to say hello as Eldon flagged another employee down for a to go container. Pearl smiled but couldn’t make any words come out. Was her dad dying? She took a long sip of water. Condensation spilled on her chin and back on the table. She decided to tweak the script. “Dad, what are you doing this weekend?” She hoped her voiced sounded light. 
          “Oh, nothing much.”
          “I was thinking, maybe we could watch the hockey game together at your place. I think there’s a
Stars game Saturday.” She felt hopeful, and a bit rascally. “The boys would come.” 
          “How about that. You like hockey, too?” His eyes lit up again. “There’s this thing called a penalty box.” Did his doctor know he was dying? 

          “I tell you what, you never want your player to end up in the penalty box.” Did her siblings know?
Eldon scraped his ham and eggs into the container. Did Dad know?
          “It’s a date. I’ll pick up lunch.” Pearl stacked their plates on the table.
          “Of course, if I get a girlfriend by then, I’m going to invite her as my real date.” Eldon made himself chuckle as he fumbled with the container. His hands trembled, making the Styrofoam shake. “Can you help, honey? I’m all thumbs.” Pearl reached over to close the container, then collected her things. It was time to go.
          Eldon braced his weight on the table to stand, but his legs tripped on the pedestal leg. He fell
back into the booth. It was a small fall. Nobody else noticed. But Pearl noticed. He tried again and fell back down again. “Dad, grab my hands.” Pearl pulled him up and gently guided him out of the booth. They kept holding hands as they walked towards the exit, Pearl bracing the small of his back. She struggled to hold the door open for the two of them, like a new mother getting used to maneuvering a
stroller. 
          Roxane saw them as they headed out. “See you next week,” she said.
          Eldon looked up back, smiled at Roxanne and told her to be good.