For Wench's Writing Challenge- You Needed Me

This is my entry in the Wench's Writing Challenge. We are supposed to choose a song and write a story around it. For more info on how to participate, click here. My song is an oldie- "You Needed Me" by Anne Murray.

Candace is 20 years old. Not a very fun age to be, or so she thinks. You're too old to be in high school but no adult considers you an adult, either. Heck, she's been taking care of herself for 12 years now, and her mom, too. It isn't her fault that her mom drinks too much and can't keep a job, keep the house clean, or consider anything that might have to do with anyone but herself.

Most kids her age are in college. But that takes money. And with only her high school diploma, the jobs available to her are mostly dead end. So she is stuck serving truck drivers and construction workers in the diner down the street. At least some of them tip decently- usually the ones that don't grope and grab at her butt every time she passes by.

This morning is no worse than usual. The regular crowd seems to be starting their morning in the normal way- too much coffee and too much cholesterol. Earl, at table 3, orders his usual bacon and scrambled eggs with hashbrowns. Mr. and Mrs. Jetton, at table 6, share a stack of pancakes. More water at table 4, more coffee at table 7. The bell jingles on the door and Candace absently wonders where anyone else could sit. She'll have to clear a table first.

As she looks up, time stops. He came back. She never dreamed that she would see him again, but there he stands. It might have been 4 years since she has seen him but those years melt away. Derrick. Her first and only love. And he is standing right here.

She fumbles to clear a space for him without breaking eye contact or a pile of plates. She scurries behind the counter with her load, returning with one of the menus that doesn't look as crusted with dried grease as some of the others. Derrick. He is here. In her mind, time has stopped. The clamour of the diner has stopped. The needs of any other customers fade away as all her attention is focused on him. He speaks, but the meaning of his words cannot penetrate her amazement. Buzz is yelling at her from the kitchen, but she can't hear him either.

Those eyes. That face. Those strong arms. How many times has she wondered what became of him, if college would change him, if he would go on to a big city, if he was married by now. Being two years older, he would be finished with college by now. Where has he been? What is he doing?

A slap on her butt and a "honey, can you refill this sometime this year" brings her back to reality. She sets the menu in front of him as he asks for coffee. Two creams. She remembered that anyway. She scurries to settle the other customers, hoping Derrick will wait until her shift ends at 10am or at least until the place clears out a little. She has a million questions. Most of them she isn't sure she wants to hear the answer to, but her need to know outweighs her unwillingness to hear bad news.

Slowly the other tables clear. She refills his cup. He orders a danish and remains patient. Did he come here to see her? He must have. He isn't leaving. He seems content to read the paper, catching her eye every minute or so over the top of the page. The clock moves so slowly that twice she stops to make sure the second hand is still mobile.

Finally the last customer heads to the register and Candace can relax. Well, not relax, but focus her pent-up energy on the cause of the stress. Derrick. He rises to hug her, and she melts into his arms. The years fade away until they are teenagers in high school again. He is telling her he loves her. Then, or now? Or both? She remembers the last time she saw him, getting on the bus to leave for Atlanta. He should be an Emory graduate. Why is he back in town? The unspoken questions cannot leave her throat. She is choked with emotion. Finally he speaks and she is able to focus on his words.

"Oh Candace, my dear Candace. You are still here. As much as I hoped you would have escaped this hell-hole, I am so glad you are still here. I graduated- I have a degree in Finance and a great job in downtown Atlanta. I came to see if you still love me- if you can ever forgive me for not coming home all this time, for focusing on building a better life for us away from here. If there still is an us?"

Us? Her mind cannot take it in. He thought about her all these years? He still loves her? Did he say "build a better life for us?"

"Candace, will you come to Atlanta with me? Will you be my wife? You are the whole reason that I was able to succeed- the thought of taking you away from here kept me going through tough classes, exams, and mean professors. You needed me. You believed in me. Do you remember the last words you said to me as I left?"

Remember? They are emblazoned on her mind like an epitaph on a tombstone. She remembers.

"You said, 'you held my hand when it was cold. When I was lost you took me home. You needed me, and now I need you to be worthy. Succeed. I love you so much that I can stand on my own, just knowing that you have loved me. So go- go and don't look back.' Well, I had to come back. No one has ever needed me before. And I have never needed anyone but you. Come with me?"

She removes her apron, puts down her pad and pen, and with a nod of her head, takes his hand and walks from the diner for the final time.