"You train?"
Walter glanced down at his hands.
"No."
Brandon looked at his friends.
"See?"
They laughed.
Walter smiled faintly.
"Enjoy your dinner."
Brandon's smile disappeared for a second.
There was something about the old man's voice.
Not fear.
Not irritation.
Just complete disinterest.
Brandon wasn't accustomed to that.
He leaned toward Kyle.
"What's his deal?"
Kyle shrugged.
"Old guy."
Brandon looked again.
"Yeah."
He smiled.
"Exactly."
He had no idea that the man sitting in the darkened booth had spent most of his life learning something Brandon had never understood.
The difference between knowing how to fight...
and knowing when not to.
A Little Entertainment
The burgers arrived at 9:48.
By then the rain had become heavier.
Water hammered the diner roof.
Lightning flashed beyond the windows.
The truck driver paid his bill and left.
The college students followed.
Soon only Lily, the four martial artists, and Walter remained.
Brandon ate quickly.
Halfway through his second burger, he looked toward the kitchen.
"Lily."
She came over.
"Need something?"
"Another coffee."
"Sure."
"And maybe a slice of pie."
"Which kind?"
"What's good?"
"Apple."
"Bring that."
She walked away.
Kyle watched her.
"You're eating pie now?"
Brandon shrugged.
"Training tomorrow."
"You said sugar was bad."
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because I said so."
They laughed.
Walter remained silent.
When Lily brought the coffee and pie, Brandon took a bite.
Then he looked toward the back booth again.
The old man was still there.
Same posture.
Same coffee.
Same silence.
Brandon couldn't resist.
"Hey, sir."
Walter looked up.
"Yes?"
"You ever done martial arts?"
"No."
"Never?"
Walter shook his head.
Brandon smiled.
"Shame."
Walter raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"Good for balance. Confidence. Self-defense."
Walter nodded.
"Those are useful things."
Brandon leaned back.
"You should try it."
"I might."
Brandon laughed.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
The laughter at the table stopped.
Walter's answer had been simple.
But there was something in it that made the room feel quieter.
Brandon stared at him.
"How old are you?"
Walter smiled.
"Old enough."
Kyle nudged Brandon.
"Leave him alone."
Brandon waved him off.
"I'm just talking."
Walter returned to his coffee.
That should have ended it.
But Brandon had been drinking.
Not heavily.
Enough.
And confidence, alcohol, and an audience were a dangerous combination.
He stood.
"Come on."
Kyle looked up.
"Where are you going?"
Brandon walked toward the back booth.
Walter looked at him approaching.
Brandon stopped beside the table.
"You know what I think?"
Walter looked at him.
"No."
"I think people get old and forget they're not untouchable."
Walter's eyes remained calm.
"That's possible."
Brandon smiled.
"You don't sound worried."
"Should I be?"
A silence fell.
Brandon's friends exchanged glances.
Lily stopped behind the counter.
"Brandon," she said, "leave him alone."
Brandon looked back.
"I'm not doing anything."
Then he turned to Walter.
"Just having a conversation."
Walter nodded.
"Then have a conversation."
Brandon pulled out the chair opposite him.
"Ever been in a fight?"
Walter took a slow sip of coffee.
"Yes."
Brandon laughed.
"Recently?"
"No."
"Thought so."
Walter looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because you're sitting there like you don't care."
Walter smiled.
"I don't."
Brandon leaned forward.
"That's confidence."
"No."
"What is it?"
Walter looked directly into his eyes.
"Experience."
Brandon's smile faded.
"What kind?"
Walter placed his cup down.
"The kind that teaches you fighting should be the last thing you do."
Brandon stood.
"That's not what they teach at Iron Peak."
"No," Walter said.
"What do they teach?"
Walter looked at Brandon's black belt.
"Perhaps you should ask your instructor."
Brandon's face tightened.
"You think you're better than me?"
Walter shook his head.
"No."
"Then what?"
"I think you have something to learn."
Brandon laughed.
"From you?"
Walter nodded.
"If you're willing."
Brandon stared at him.
Then he laughed again.
"You've got jokes."
Walter smiled.
"Sometimes."
Brandon turned away.
But as he returned to his booth, something had changed.
He wasn't laughing anymore.
The old man had not challenged him.
That was precisely what bothered him.
Because Brandon had spent years building his identity around being the strongest man in the room.
And Walter Hayes had looked at him as though strength were only one small piece of a much larger puzzle.
The Fall
At 10:02 p.m., the diner door opened again.
A gust of cold rain blew inside.
A young man stumbled through the doorway.
He was soaked.
His face was pale.
He looked around desperately.
"Phone," he said.
Lily hurried toward him.
"Are you okay?"
"My truck broke down."
She pointed toward the counter.
"There's a phone."
He grabbed it.
"Thanks."
He dialed.
While he waited, Brandon watched him.
The young man was perhaps twenty-three.
He wore a cheap jacket.
Mud covered his boots.
He looked exhausted.
Brandon whispered something to Kyle.
Kyle laughed.
The young man glanced over.
"What?"
Brandon grinned.
"Nothing."
The young man turned back.
The phone rang.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Finally he hung up.
"Can I wait here?"
Lily nodded.
"Of course."
"Thank you."
He sat near the door.
Brandon watched him.
Then he noticed something.
The man's hands were shaking.
"Cold?"
The young man nodded.
"Yeah."
Brandon smiled.
"Could've fooled me."
Kyle laughed.
The young man looked embarrassed.