Cindy's Cafe — Sarah Sadler

“Get you some of them Alka Seltzer pills, honey. I got high blood pressure and it helps me.”

A man in coveralls has come for lunch but instead gets a prescription. The advise alone has made him feel better. I am the only unknown here. Miss Cindy greets and predetermines orders of every local in the room, she tells a woman to ‘poke her husband’ for her next time she sees him.

I stand on worn linoleum floors, huddled in the corner waiting for the grilled cheese and tots I’ve ordered while Miss. Cindy rattles off the specials to a caller on the phone: boiled cabbage, pinto beans, fried chicken and banana pudding. I guaran-damn-te you she serves chow-chow on the side unprompted. My mouth is watering. I’m hungry for this. A Hallmark scene in real life.

Two out of three men wearing suspenders chew on toothpicks and tell football stories, leaned back. One changes the subject to his dog gettin’ loose down the road. I was just about to find out what became of Tom the beagle when Miss Cindy brings my food tied in a knotted ‘thank you come again’ bag and offers to bring me more sweet tea before I go. “I want it, but I don’t need it,” I tell her.

She offers me unsweet tea instead, but I don’t want that either. I want the full sweetness. The whole experience. I’ll think twice next time I order to-go.

Originally posted November 18, 2019.