The point was that I didn't want to believe that she was the enemy--and
I did want to be alone with her.
6
Jack Hess, another of the younger instructors in the English
department, asked me if I'd like to go to a nearby drive-in for lunch.
I hesitated--and suddenly remembered Lois, the blonde waitress in the
Dugout. Once again I had been stupid!
"No--not today, Jack," I said quickly. "I've got something on."
He looked at me quizzically, shrugged and turned away. I knew most of
my colleagues thought me an odd one, reserved and even anti-social.
Jack had made more of an effort than the others to be friendly. I was
quite aware that my feeling of being an outsider was an unhealthy one
but I couldn't help it.
I left hurriedly and strode hastily across the campus. How could I have
overlooked such an obvious factor? Lois was sure to have seen the man
in the back booth the night before. At the least she would have brought
him his coffee. Even if he was a stranger to her, she would be able to
describe him to me. And perhaps he wasn't a stranger. Maybe he came in
often.
The little restaurant was jammed with students. I pushed my way to the
end of the counter. Lois wasn't in sight. I waited until Harry, the
sweating, somewhat greasy-faced owner of the Dugout, came near me.
"Can I talk to you a minute, Harry?"
He glanced at me, recognized me as a steady customer, and probably
shrewdly placed me for what I was, a not very important young teacher.
"Can't it wait? I'm busy as hell."
He hurried back up the aisle without waiting for an answer. Harry did
some of the cooking, but during the rush hours he helped out on tables
or behind the counter while the regular cook took care of the orders.