Erotimaniac

Loneliness was a difficult subject. Some people enjoyed lonely days while

others loathed the involuntary solitude. It was funny how things worked:

the same thing could cause happiness and pain to two separate people. The

pain caused by loneliness was only amplified by the happiness of other

people – perhaps it was self-pity.

That's exactly what Ethan felt at the diner.

The young man sat by his lonesome at a booth at the far-end of the

eatery. Puffy-eyed, he watched the other guests with a blank expression.

Families sat in the other booths, enjoying eggs, bacon, and pancakes. A few

couples sat at the other tables, flirting while they ate. A drunk homeless

man sat at the bar, eating a cheap meal by himself.

That could be me, Ethan thought as he stared at the homeless man, I

could end up just like him. The life of a lonely hermit was terrifying to him.

"Sorry for the wait. It's been a little busy this morning," a tender female

voice said.

Ethan shook his head as he snapped out of his contemplation. He

glanced towards his left, then he leaned back. His waitress finally reached

his booth – and she was beautiful.

The woman stood five-one with a petite figure. She had silky black hair

down to her shoulders and bangs down to her eyebrows. Her dark brown

eyes were gentle. She wore a black polo shirt, black pants, and matching

work shoes. A black apron with three pockets was tied around her waist,

too. Her outfit wasn't glitzy, but she was still very attractive.

Hopeful, Ethan stared at the name tag on her chest. To his dismay, the

name was illegible. The waitress pressed on the button on her pen and held

her notepad up.

She smiled and said, "My name is Emmy. I'll be your waitress today. Are

you ready to order, sir?"

Ethan grinned and chuckled. He opened his mouth to speak, but he could

not utter a word. He was rendered speechless by her beauty. He could feel

butterflies flittering in his stomach as his heart rapidly pounded in his chest.

The magic was back.

The waitress nervously laughed, amused by Ethan's peculiar behavior.

She said, "It's okay if you're not ready to order. I can come back later or

someone else will come help you. I'll–"

"No," Ethan interrupted, afraid of missing his chance at love. He

stuttered, "I–I'll have... three scrambled eggs, two bacon strips, and the–the

hash browns."

"Okay. We'll have that ready for you in ten, fifteen minutes. You want

coffee with that? Orange juice? Milk?"

"Coffee. I'll have coffee."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

Before she could leave, Ethan lunged over the table and grabbed her

wrist. He pulled her back to the booth, which caused her to stagger. The

young waitress yelped as she struggled to keep her balance. Stunned by the

patron's audacity, she turned towards Ethan with wide eyes.

She stuttered, "Wha–What are you doing? Please, let me go." Confused

by his own actions, Ethan absently stared at the waitress. The young woman

said, "Let me go."

Realizing he was causing a scene, Ethan released her wrist and leaned

back in his seat. He clasped his hands in front of his mouth.

He said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was just... I was going to ask you for

your name. That's all. I just... I just wanted to know your name."

"I told you my name already: Emmy."

"No, I meant your full name. I can kinda see it on your tag, but I can't

read all of it."

The waitress stared down at her chest with a furrowed brow. She was

surprised to see her handwriting was smudged and illegible. To her

disappointment, it was supposed to be legible at all times. She feared the

patron would report her to her manager if she didn't cooperate. She wanted

to avoid that headache.

She said, "My name is Emiko Takahashi. Everyone calls me 'Emmy.'

Okay? What's so important about my name?"

Ethan said, "I just... I noticed you were, um... Asian or whatever is the

politically correct term. Like, uh, Chinese or Japanese or Korean or–"

"I'm Japanese. Asian, Japanese... it doesn't really matter, sir."

Ethan smiled and nodded, blatantly interested. He said, "Japanese. I've

always been interested in Japanese culture. It's... It's fascinating." He stared

down at the table and blushed. He said, "I'm sorry about my aggressive approach. I really didn't mean to grab you like that. My... My name is

Ethan, by the way. Ethan Miller."

Emiko stared at Ethan with a deadpan expression. She was still unnerved

by his eccentric behavior. She couldn't read his intentions. He appeared

harmless, but there was something about him that was strange. She couldn't

put her finger on it. She assumed he was trying to hook up with her. Being

fit and attractive didn't give him the right to touch her, though.

She said, "Whatever. It's... It's okay. I forgive you. Your food will be

ready in a few minutes."

As the waitress walked away, Ethan joked, "Great. Maybe you can join

me when you come back. Huh?" Emiko clenched her jaw and glanced back

as she approached the bar. Ethan said, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding..."

Normally, Ethan was a smooth and charismatic young man. He knew

how to communicate with women. The waitress made him feel different,

though. He couldn't control himself around her. He stuttered and stumbled,

unable to keep a cool composure around the waitress. It was an odd feeling,

but he welcomed it with open arms.

He watched Emiko until she disappeared around the corner, hidden by

the kitchen walls. Giddy, he stared down at himself and chuckled inwardly.

He glanced around the diner and grinned. The grim atmosphere vanished.

He was no longer jealous of the other couples. In fact, in his mind, every

couple was replaced with an image of himself and Emiko.

Love was in the air.

Sitting by his lonesome, he imagined his entire life with Emiko. He

pictured their early dates – walks in the park, bad movies, and candle-lit

dinners. He imagined their wedding, which would inevitably lead to a small

family. And, his own family would lead to acceptance from his mother.

With Emiko, the future was brighter than the sun.

"Here you go, sir," a male with a husky voice said.

Ethan glanced over at his left and raised his brow. A man in a white,

short-sleeve button-up shirt and black trousers stood beside the booth. The

bald spot at the center of his head was obvious as he leaned down and

placed a mug on the table. The man sniffled as he placed a plate next to the

mug.

The man ran his fingers across his mustache and said, "Holler if you

need anything."

"Wait," Ethan said. The man glanced at the patron with a raised brow.

Ethan asked, "Who... Who are you?"

"My name is Burt Baker, sir. I'm the manager here. I'll be personally

serving you until the end of your meal."

"Wha–What happened to Emiko? Is she okay?"

Burt sighed in exasperation, then he said, "She's fine. She's busy

working in the kitchen. I'd appreciate it if you didn't bother her. Now, please

enjoy your meal. Holler if you need anything."

As Burt marched back to the bar, Ethan leaned forward and peered into

the kitchen through the pass-through window. He could see Emiko leaning

on a counter, chatting with a co-worker.

Ethan leaned back in his seat, lonely and confused. He stuffed his mouth

with eggs and bacon as he constantly glanced over at the kitchen with each

bite. The perceived rejection struck him hard. He was brought down a notch

and hurled back into his bleak reality.

Mouth full of food, he mumbled, "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she

doesn't love me. She's not like the succubi, but she doesn't like me, either.

But... But, I like her. I love her. I know I do. Why? Why won't you come see

me, Emiko?"

From the back of his head, a soft feminine voice said, "I'm sorry, darling.

I can't."

Ethan glanced over his shoulder, startled. He sat in the last booth so he

found himself staring at a wall. He recognized the voice though – Emiko

Takahashi. Eyes glimmering with hope, he gazed into the kitchen and

smiled.

Ethan whispered, "It's you, isn't it? You're trying to talk to me, aren't

you? It's... It's telepathy. I thought I was the only one, but... it's really you.

You like me. You really like me."

He shoved more eggs into his mouth and stared at the manager – Burt,

that prying bastard. The pieces were easy to connect in Ethan's unhinged

mind: Emiko wanted to be with him, but her boss was keeping them apart.

The theory was based off of a voice he heard in his head, but he believed it.

He was willing to wait for her, too.

As Ethan finished his meal, Burt approached the booth and placed the

bill on the table. He was eager to get rid of the bothersome patron.

Ethan pulled his wallet out. The bill came out to $9.69. He could have

left a ten-dollar bill and a five-dollar bill to cover the tab and the tip. He wanted to make a statement, though. He placed a hundred-dollar bill on the

table. He stood from his seat and tapped the money.

He glared at Burt and said, "That's for Emiko. That's her tip, not yours."

Burt said, "That's fine, sir. The exit is right over there. Thank you for

coming."

Ethan walked away from the manager before the confrontation could

escalate. As he strolled towards the exit, he glanced at the pass-through

window and waved with a large grin on his face. His newfound love didn't

see him, but he could see her. Head over heels, he practically skipped out of

the diner and headed to his car – excited for his future.