“Here you are sweetie.” The waitress dropped one mug and a stein of steaming hot coffee onto the diner table in front of me. “Can I get you any food?” she asked.
“I’m okay, really,” I answered, “Thank you, though.” She turned away, carrying her little order pad and moved off to start cleaning the counter with a damp cloth. I started assembling my coffee, ripping the little lids off the creamers and pouring sugar into the mug. My father watched in silence. “Are you sure you aren’t hungry or anything?” I asked him, “My treat.”
“I’m certain,” he answered. He studied the motions of my hands as I stirred the coffee, tapped the spoon on the edge of the mug and laid it on a napkin before lifting the steaming cup to my mouth. “You do that just as I always used to,” he said, his eyes traveling from my hands to my face now. “You’re a lot like me, I can tell, son.”
“I take that as an honor,” I responded, “A very high one at that.”
My father watched me silently for a few moments longer, then he leaned forward, reached across the table, and took my hands in his. “Kevin, I know you’re going through a lot right now… but what you were thinking tonight, it’s not true, and it bothers me that you might think those things.”
He’d always had an innate ability to see into my mind, so this statement didn’t surprise me at all. I looked into my coffee, as though it would spell out the words that I needed to say to answer him. I took a deep breath. “I’m frustrated, Dad,” I said, “I really am. I just feel as though maybe… maybe things would be better if I wasn’t around. I mean, Kristen and I are always fighting now and Mason’s stuck listening to that and that’s not fair to him at all. Then there’s the fellas, and Nick outright said they were better off without me…” I twiddled my thumb ever so slightly in the mug handle, running my digit along the smooth curve of the ceramic.
“Well Kevin,” he said, “I’m here to prove you wrong.”
I looked up at him and guffawed, “Prove me wrong?” I asked, “And how exactly do you think you’re going to do that?”
My father leaned back in the booth. “Well Kevin, you think they’d be better off without you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I answered solemnly.
He nodded, “Well then, son…” he smiled, “You never existed.”
“What?” I was confused, “What are you talking about?” I reached for my coffee mug, but it wasn’t there. “What the –“ I looked around the table, even side-to-side, as though the mug had jumped off the table. But of course it hadn’t. It was just – gone. “Where’s my coffee?” I stammered.
“If you don’t exist, then you never ordered it,” he answered simply.
My stomach did a little flip flop. “Okay dad,” I said, forcing a laugh, though my senses were strangely heightened, “Give me back the mug,.” I held out my hand.
“I didn’t take it,” he answered, “You don’t exist. You can’t order coffee if you don’t exist.”
The waitress stopped cleaning the counter top and walked towards us. I thought for sure she was going to stop at our booth, but she didn’t even glance our way. She started closing the blinds along the front of the diner windows before turning to retreat back behind the breakfast bar. “Miss,” I called as she walked by me, “Miss?” But she never even looked my way.
I looked at my father. “This is impossible,” I muttered.
“Christmas is a time of miracles, Kevin,” he answered in the same regal tone as he always had. I felt my throat close up.
“So I really never existed right now?” I asked, feeling oddly… light.
“Would I lie to you?” he asked. I shook my head. “Then no, you really do not exist right now.”
“It’s an odd feeling,” I said, “Not existing, I mean.”
My father smiled. “Let’s go see how everyone’s doing before we leave, shall we?”
“Leave?”
“Well we can’t stay here, not existing forever, can we?”
