Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Waiting for Hilda

I was practically soaked by the time I got to school. We had a deluge. Every morning I go through McDonald's and I get the same thing. A breakfast burrito and a large coffee. I'm there almost the same time every day. Mark took me today because he had to go get a new tire for the car and get the oil changed. We sat in line and I realized it was Wednesday. I glanced over to the Waffle House parking lot, and sure enough George was there waiting.

There is this older gentleman. He meets a lady at Waffle House most Wednesdays. I guess I noticed him last year while we went through the drive up line at McDonald's. He's got a champagne colored truck and he usually gets there early. I don't know his name, but I call him George. Most of the time if the weather is nice, George is there waiting, leaning up against his truck. Sometimes, if it is raining, he's gone under the overhang of the back of the Waffle House. He always seems patient.

I know he meets a lady because one time I was running late and I saw his truck and I saw a sedan next to it, so I made a point to look through the Waffle House window and sure enough, there was George opposite a white haired lady. I decided to call her Hilda.

I think Hilda makes him wait a lot. Either that, or he is so anxious that he gets there early so he can greet her. I bet she'd have a heart attack if he wasn't waiting on her.

Today, the rain was really coming down. I could see him sitting in his truck.

I wonder, is he just trying to wait out the monsoon, or is he waiting with an umbrella ready at hand, so that he can be the gallant knight and shining armor to shield his lady from the rain? I only just recently noticed that he was there on Wednesdays. I'll have to watch to see if he is there other days.

He's so cute as he leans so nonchalantly against his truck. His body language is a little tense, as if he hopes he's not stood up. He looks pretty calm, but there is an intensity that reveals his impatience for his lady to arrive.

I figure that George is about seventy. Hilda (through the window) looks at least that old. I see them and I wonder what their stories are and if they are both widowers looking for companionship, or if they were old flames who have rediscovered each other.

I have a wicked desire to follow them into the Waffle House and wrangle a nearby seat and eavesdrop.

Maybe I'm better off imagining what their story is.