Roadside Bodhisattva Read Online Free Page A

big deal of taking his time and studying the menu, so I did the same.
    “Let’s see now. Is the hash homemade?”
    “Do I look like the chef? How should I know?”
    This smart-mouthing brought a response from the lady behind the counter.
    “Yasmine! Show some respect, please!”
    Yasmine sighed deeply again and said, “I’ll ask. Sonny! Did you make the hash?”
    The skinny chef turned around. His face was all sad big eyes and beaten-down weariness. His nose was a large blade of flesh too big for the rest of his wimpy features. But he smiled when he answered, “Fuh—fresh today!”
    Sid appeared pleased beyond all measure. “Excellent! I’ll have four eggs over easy, the hash, and a stack of waffles.”
    Yasmine swiveled on me.
    “Uh, the same.”
    “And bring us a two orange juices, two ice-waters and a whole pot of coffee, honey. Don’t forget a pitcher of sweet cream. We are two knights of the road with a mighty deep hunger and thirst.”
    Yasmine didn’t bother to answer, but just turned to go. Sid wasn’t done with her yet, though.
    “And if you could warm up the maple syrup, darling, our tip might knock your nonexistent socks off!”
    The coffee came first, and Sid dumped enough cream into his cup to float a battleship, then added enough sugar to sink one. I was used to coffee, but not the hot stuff. I used to have a frappacino every day after school. But after I doctored it up and took a few sips I got used to drinking it this way, and I figured it wasn’t so bad.
    Sid started talking about how many miles we might make today. He was kinda loud, and I was worried the normal people in the restaurant were looking at us. But then after a while I saw they weren’t really, and I relaxed. I guessed this place must get our kind of drifters fairly often, being situated on a fairly busy highway like it was.
    When our breakfasts came all our conversation dried right up. That long morning walk had left me hungrier than a homeless dog. I broke an egg, forked off a hunk of waffle, soaked up some runny yolk and scarfed down almost more than I could chew. Sid was doing the same. The hash was super good, nothing fake, lots of real onions and potatoes in with the meat.
    People left and one or two others arrived. The little chef guy kept busy, the nice older lady replaced a big empty cardboard container of milk in a dispenser with a full one and chopped vegetables for lunch, and Yasmine sat on a stool like a grouchy cafeteria monitor, admiring her nails.
    We went through one pot of coffee and got another. By the time our plates were so clean that it was like an army of cats had licked them, I was flying high from the coffee. Sid didn’t seem bothered one bit by all the caffeine. He slouched back in his seat, let out a mild burp, then closed his eyes.
    That was the signal for Yasmine to tromp over and toss the check down on the table.
    “Pay at the register,” she ordered us real snidely, then went back to her seat. But the boss lady wasn’t having any of her bad manners this time.
    “Yasmine, go fill the dishwasher and get it going.”
    “Oh, all right!”
    Yasmine stalked off to the back room where she had brought the dirty dishes. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but she made such a racket it sounded like she was breaking half the plates and glasses she was supposed to be loading.
    The older woman came out from behind the counter and right over to our table. I saw now that she had a lot of worry lines on her face. Or maybe, I hoped, some of them were laugh lines. Despite all her wrinkles, a small mole above her upper lip was kinda sexy. She wiped her hands on her apron and smiled.
    “How was everything?”
    “Ma’am, if God had a favorite diner, this would be it.”
    Her smile got bigger, and she stuck out her hand. “I’m the owner. Ann Danielson.”
    Sid took her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ann. I’m Sid, and this is Kid A.”
    Ann cocked her head at me like she didn’t quite understand. Once more