Midnight at Maxine’s

It was the kind of cold that made you wish you had never been born. Add to that the slashing rain, and you had a recipe for staying inside next to a warm fire. Yet here I was pushing into Maxine’s at half-past midnight.

Pulling off the Fedora, I shook it outside the door as best I could, the same with the gray trench coat that had been tightly pulled around me. Hanging the damp outer garment and hat on the coat rack, I smoothed my hair and made my way to my usual booth. It was the last booth in the back, right side, next to the window. At this time of night, I didn’t have to fight too hard for the seat.

I had been coming here for a handful of years and didn’t even know how long Maxine’s had been around. If you asked ten people, you probably couldn’t find one who even knew who the mysterious Maxine was or had been. The diner was owned by a guy named Joe Ferguson, who had bought it from his brother-in-law. You learn that stuff from being a regular. It wasn’t that I was fiercely loyal to this place or anything. Still, it just happened to be the only all-night diner within walking distance of my apartment.

Cheryl walked over, coffee pot in hand. She always looked like she had started her shift 30 seconds before walking up to you, even though I knew she had started at four in the afternoon. Her uniform was neat as a pin, and not a hair was out of place. Cheryl flipped my coffee cup over and poured it to the rim.

“Leg bothering you?” asked Cheryl.

“Yeah, nights like this always do me in.”

“I’ll keep the coffee coming.”

“Where’s Frank?”

“Had to go home and pick up something. That’s a good thing for you because you don’t have to be subjected to his cooking,” Cheryl laughed.

“Lucky me,” I laughed. “When Frank gets back, I’ll just have my regular.”

“You’re funeral,” Cheryl called over her shoulder as she walked away.

I nodded and smiled. Subconsciously, I put my hand on my right knee and rubbed it. Wincing at the pain, I jerked my hand back. Pulling a pack of cigarettes from my inside suit coat pocket, I shook it until one of them poked up far enough for me to get my lips around it. Pulling the lucky volunteer free, I flipped open my lighter and lit it. Drawing a deep lungful of smoke, I slowly let it out. My Bible had been tucked away in the side pocket of my coat, and I pulled it out and set it on the table. With the cigarette resting between the first two fingers of my left hand, I lifted the steaming cup of coffee to my lips.

The bum leg was a result of my knee and a Japanese bullet trying to occupy the same space at the same time. The result was that my war ended early, and so did my dreams of a long and illustrious military career. A soldier is all I had ever wanted to be, so I didn’t pay attention too closely to school. After the months of rehab, it didn’t take me long to realize there wasn’t much call for a rifleman in the civilian world. My leg prevented me from doing any other work I was qualified to do. So, I collected my monthly disability pension and spent too much time in all-night diners. My knee throbbed again, and I winced.

Cheryl returned and was warming up my cup when the door flew open, and a guy rushed in from outside. He pulled the collar of his leather jacket up as he walked to the end of the counter. He was soaked.

“Sit anywhere; I’ll be right with you,” called Cheryl across the diner.

The guy gave a quick wave, sat on the stool farthest from the door, and hunched over. Cheryl looked over at me, and I shrugged as I lifted the newly filled cup to my lips. Cheryl snorted as she walked towards the counter to help the newcomer.

Moments later, the wail of a distant siren got louder as a police cruiser sped by the window, the red light bathing the diner. As the siren's sound receded, I noticed the stranger was hunched even further over. I wondered for a beat what he had done. You didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out the cops were after him, and it wouldn’t be long before they were circling back and walking through the diner.

I pulled another drag off my cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray. Reaching for the Bible, I slid my finger to the bookmark and opened the marked section in Acts. Keeping one eye on the stranger, I picked up the story of Saul’s conversion to Paul. I chuckled at the thought of what Saul thought when that light blinded him, and God asked him point-blank why he was persecuting him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the police cruiser crawling back toward the diner. The siren and lights had been doused. The stranger saw them at the same time I did, and he visibly tensed. I closed the Bible so that I could give things my full attention. The police car came to a stop at the curb, and both front doors popped open. Two police officers in full uniform emerged from the vehicle and stepped toward the diner. Glancing back over, the stranger turned his body toward the wall.

Both police officers entered the diner and shook off raindrops from their outer coats. The trailing officer looked over to me and tipped his cap. I gave a slight nod as I saw the first officer lock his gaze on the stranger at the counter.

“Could we get two black coffees?” said the first officer, never taking his eyes off the stranger.

“Sure thing,” said Cheryl.

The two officers split up, with the trailing officer walking my way. He stopped a few feet from my table.

“Doing okay tonight, sir?” he asked.

“I could do without the cold, but not too bad,” I smiled.

“That’s for sure,” the cop chuckled. “You been in here long?”

“Half an hour or so. I’m a regular, I guess you could say.”

“Got ya’. What about the fella over my shoulder there?”

“Came running in about five minutes ago. About 30 seconds ahead of when a cruiser flew by.”

“Noted,” he said.

Before I could get another word out of my mouth, I heard dishes crashing to the ground. The cop immediately spun around and moved slightly to the left. I could see the stranger now had Cheryl around the neck, and a revolver pointed at the first officer.

“Get back!” the young man yelled.

“Easy,” said the first cop.

“Easy, nothing. Imma blow her head off if you don’t back up!” he said, pointing the revolver at Cheryl’s head.

“Okay, calm down. Nobody needs to get hurt.”

“Get out. Take your buddy with you.”

“Now, you know we can’t do that.”

“Man, I ain’t kidding around. I will kill her,” he said, shoving the pistol tighter against Cheryl’s head for emphasis.

“Alright, okay. Johnson, go ahead and step outside. Call us out at this location.”

“You too!” said the man, his voice cracking.

“Put the gun down, and I’ll step out too. I can’t leave with you like that.”

I was watching the whole scene unfold in front of me. The cop called Johnson had started moving toward the door. The first cop was in a semi-crouch, one hand extended in front of him and the other hand on the butt of his service weapon. Cheryl’s eyes were about the size of saucers as the stranger held onto her. My best bet at this point was to play it cool. I didn’t make it back from overseas to get shot in a diner by a two-bit hood. I whispered a prayer to God, asking that I please not get shot.

Johnson was now outside and on the radio. The kid had lowered the gun, and the second cop was now backing toward the door. The door swung closed, and the stranger loosened his grip on Cheryl just a little. He was breathing heavily, and sweat was pouring down his face. His eyes were darting around the diner and finally rested on me.

“You! Step over to my side of the diner so I can keep an eye on you.”

I sighed and slid from the booth. I started making my way across the diner. Now, here I was, moving closer to a guy with a gun. I whispered another prayer.

“What’s wrong with you? Why’re you walking like that?”

“Kind of an odd question, don’t you think?”

“Who has the gun!”

“Fair enough. I have a shattered kneecap. From the war.”

“Rough. My brother didn’t make it back,” he said.

“I hate to hear it,” I said, sliding into another booth. “Where was your brother?”

“Pacific.”

“Yeah? I was there too. Navy?”

“Marines.”

“Really? I’m a Marine. So, I guess he and I would be brothers, too.”

“He’s dead, and you’re lame, so yeah, I guess you are.”

“I guess so. Why’re the cops after you?”

“That’s my business.”

“You know they aren’t going to go away,” I said.

“I know. I don’t know what else to do.”

“My name’s Bill.”

“Chet,” he said.

“Chet, this isn’t making it any easier on you. Whatever you did is just being multiplied by doing this.”

“Why don’t you just sit there and be quiet. I can’t think.”

“Do you know Jesus?”

I wasn’t sure why that had come out. Why now, of all times? I guess God wanted me to witness to an armed criminal.

“Jesus? What’s he got to do with this?”

“Jesus is involved in everything.”

“You some preacher or something? You care about my soul?”

“I’m not a preacher. I’m just a normal guy, but I do care about your soul.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to know you. The Lord has commanded that I love you as I love myself.”

“What!? That’s crazy, man.”

“It is, but that is the command.”

“So, you love me? I could kill you right now. You don’t know.”

“You’re right. I don’t know, but I have an idea that you won’t kill me. I don’t think that is really who you are. Why don’t you loosen your grip on Cheryl a little? You’re scaring her.”

I saw his grip loosen even more, and his arm slipped from around her neck. Cheryl reached for her neck and rubbed it. She stumbled into a booth next to him.

“I’m in real trouble here,” he said.

As we talked, I could hear the commotion outside. I didn’t have to turn around to know there were a lot more cops than just the first two who were here. The red lights were pulsating throughout the diner. I started to think this might end badly. The man was still holding a gun with two hostages, and there was a small army of cops gathering outside.

“I’m not going to lie. You are in big trouble. Bigger than when you walked into this diner for sure.”

“What do you know about it?”

“You don’t have to be too bright to figure out that you have a gun with two hostages and a whole bunch of cops gathering outside. I’d say that’s big trouble. You smoke?” I asked.

“Yeah, I could sure use one right now.”

I reached for the pack of cigarettes, and he whipped the gun back up and pointed it at me.

“Whoa! Just getting the cigarettes!”

“Don’t do that…move like that,” he said.

“Sorry, I was just going to get you a smoke.”

“Lemme have it,” Chet said, reaching out with a hand that was shaking so bad he could hardly control it.

I handed him the cigarette and lighter. He took them, lit the smoke, and tossed the lighter back to me. He closed his eyes with the first drag. If I hadn’t had the bum leg, this would have been the end of it because I would have been on him in no time flat. There was no way I could cover the distance before he ventilated me with his revolver. Chet’s eyes snapped open.

“Nothing better than that first drag,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So, what are you going to do about the reception committee outside?”

“I’m thinking!”

“You know, you put down that gun and walk out peacefully. It might go a long way toward them being a little easier on you.”

Chet lifted his eyes to me and slowly shook his head. I thought I saw a tear; it could’ve been sweat, though. Who knows? He turned his face from me and put the cigarette to his lips once more.

“How’d you get into this mess?”

“Why don’t you just shut your yap? You ain’t stopped talking yet.”

“Well, you have a gun, you almost choked poor Cheryl out, and half the NYPD is at the front door. So, forgive me if I’m a little nervous.”

“Just sit down and be quiet.”

“You know what?”

“Mister, I swear if you say another word…”

“I have an idea,” I said.

“You don’t listen,” Chet said.

“Here’s my idea. You let Cheryl walk out and keep me.”

“Bill, no!” cried Cheryl.

“Easy, Cheryl. I’m going to be alright. Chet and I are getting along pretty well right now. Aren’t we, Chet?”

Chet just stared at me as I walked toward him and got between him and Cheryl. Now, I was no further than six feet away from this desperate kid with a gun. Nobody lives forever, I guess. I touched Cheryl’s shoulder and nudged her toward the door, my eyes never leaving Chet.

“Go on,” I whispered. “Cheryl’s going to go now, okay.”

Chet just squinted as he watched Cheryl stand up. She turned, and a walk turned into a run as she pushed through the door and stumbled out onto the sidewalk. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw a swarm of cops grab her and pull her to safety.

“You did good, letting her go, Chet. They’ll look real favorable on that.”

“Why didn’t you run too?”

“With this leg? I wouldn’t have made it very far.”

“You said you didn’t think I would shoot you,” said Chet.

“You never know, do you?”

“I suppose. You got another cigarette?”

“I do. I’m on a fixed income, so you’re going to need to pay me back for this one,” I said, reaching for the pack.

We both chuckled as I handed him another smoke and lit one for myself.

“Yeah, uh, it might be a while before I can pay you back. I’m probably going to be moving out of town soon.”

“I ain’t going anywhere.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Being so nice to me. I pulled a gun on you.”

“I already told you why. I needed to know if you knew Jesus.”

“You needed to know that right now?”

“When else was I going to get to ask you?”

“Got a point.”

“Well, do you?”

“What do you think?” he chuckled.

“If I had to guess, I would say no, but you just never know.”

A voice pierced the air, projected over a loudspeaker. It was a voice that boomed when the owner spoke.

“This is Lieutenant Charles with the NYPD,” said the voice. “You need to release the other hostage and come out with your hands raised.”

“What are we going to do, Chet? I asked.

“We? I think he was talking to me,” replied Chet.

“He was, but we’re kind of in this together now.”

“I don’t know.”

“You could do what he asked.”

“Not ready to go to jail right now.”

“I’m not sure if anyone is ever ready for that, but it is coming down to a choice here.”

“Tell them I’m not ready to come out.”

“You want me to tell them? I could walk to the door and keep walking.”

“You could, but you won’t.”

He was right. I didn’t want to see this kid get hurt. I wasn’t even sure what I could say to the cops. Ask for a few minutes so we can finish up our chat? I’m sure that would go over well. I sighed and stood. I straightened my jacket and turned toward the door. This was the first time I had gotten the whole scene that had been going on outside.

There were indeed more cops than you could count. Most of them had guns at the ready. The rain had turned to sleet. I’m sure the cops weren’t in any mood to play around. This kid was in a warm diner, and they were standing around in the sleet.

As I approached the door, 5 or 6 police officers began advancing. I held up my hand to stop them. They ceased until I made it to the door. I didn’t unlock it and waited until the officer holding the bullhorn walked up.

“Sir, I’m Lieutenant Charles. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You know, considering the circumstances.”

“Unlock the door and come out.”

“I can’t do that. Chet isn’t ready to come out.”

“Chet!? So, Chet isn’t ready to come out!?” said the officer. “Well, okay then, I guess we’ll all just go home.”

“Give me a few more minutes with him.”

“Buddy, let me tell you I’m not standing around in this weather while this punk decides if and when he wants to go to jail.”

“You don’t have much choice unless you just want to shoot your way in.”

“Fine,” sighed the lieutenant. “You got 15 minutes, and then we’re coming in to get him.”

I turned and walked back toward Chet. I stopped at the counter and poured myself another cup of coffee. I nodded toward Chet, and he nodded back. I poured us both a cup.

“This is probably the last decent cup of coffee you’ll get for a while,” I said, sliding the cup down the counter toward him.

I shook another cigarette from the pack for myself and offered one to Chet. Reaching over, he plucked the smoke from the box. I snapped my lighter open and lit my cigarette first, and then his. Chet took a deep drag and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. We sat in silence for a few minutes. I could only imagine what the cops were thinking.

“The answer is no. We were interrupted before I could answer,” said Chet, breaking the silence.

“No?”

“To the Jesus thing? No, I don’t know him.”

“Oh.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Off and on since I was a kid. My relationship with him got stronger when I came back from overseas.”

“They say there are no atheists in foxholes.”

“I suppose that’s right,” I chuckled.

“Is it true he forgives no matter what?”

“If you ask him into your life and have a relationship with him, yes, that’s true.”

“No matter what you’ve done?”

“No matter what. We all fall short of the glory of God.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Scripture. In the Bible.”

“Got ya’.”

“Everyone one of us sins. It’s human nature. Jesus paid the price for that sin on the cross. When he died. Our debt is paid.”

“Makes no sense,” said Chet.

“It’s tough to wrap your head around.”

The absurdity of what was going on hadn’t escaped me. I was sitting in a diner, in the middle of the night, an army of cops just outside, talking to a kid about God. I could hear the crunch of boots on sleet-covered pavement and the squawk of police radios as we sat in silence. I didn’t know how much time I had left on the 15-minute time limit I had been given, but I had to say something to make all this work.

“Look, they’re not going to wait much longer. I don’t want to see the cops come in and drag you out of here. You should walk out like a man,” I said.

“I broke into Heywood’s Department store, and the night watchman caught me. I hit him with the gun harder than I wanted to, and he went down. I don’t think I killed him, but I don’t know.”

“What?” I asked.

“Earlier…you wanted to know what I did. That’s what I did. That’s why I’m in this mess. Now, they’re gonna stack kidnapping or something on it too.”

“Probably,” I said, taking one last drag on the cigarette and crushing it out in the ashtray.

“I thought you Jesus people were supposed to be optimists,” laughed Chet.

“What can I say? So, what’s the plan?”

“I guess I’ll go to jail.”

“Yep. I guess. Can I pray with you?”

“Uh, sure, how does it work? Nobody has ever done that for me before.”

“Well, I just pray. You pray too if that’s something you feel like you want to do.”

I closed my eyes and bowed my head. Clasping my hands in front of me, I thought about what I would pray for a second.

“Father, I come to you with Chet. He’s in a load of trouble right now, and he needs you more than ever. The next few weeks and months are likely to be the toughest of his life, but I know that all things are possible through you. I pray that you are with Chet and help him see that he can still leave his old life behind and start a new life with you if that is what he wants. Father, I ask for this in your precious son’s name, amen.”

I looked up to see Chet still bowed in prayer. Or at least I thought it was prayer. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he finally opened his eyes and sighed.

“Guess I am as ready as I’ll ever be,” said Chet.

I stood and walked to the front of the diner again, and the same lieutenant met me at the door. Cracking open the door, the officer stuck his head inside.

“It’s been 17 minutes, and my patience is gone,” said the lieutenant.

“He’s coming out, but I don’t want any rough stuff. He’s coming out peaceably, and he should be arrested peaceably.”

“You his lawyer now?”

“Just a concerned citizen.”

“Right, where’s the heater?”

“I’ll get it from him and bring him out.”

The lieutenant nodded and stepped away from the door. Turning, I went back to Chet and held out my hand. Pulling the gun from his waistband, he handed it over.

“Hey, Bill, thanks for everything.”

“It was the least I could do,” I said.

Chet walked in front of me toward the door, and the original two officers stepped forward. I opened the door, and Chet walked out. True to their word, the cops didn’t throw him to the ground; they just turned him around, patted him down, and handcuffed him. I handed over the pistol and watched as they led him to the patrol car.

Stepping back inside, I fell into the first booth and let out a rush of air. Seconds later, the place was filled with cops. Cheryl pushed past all of them and hugged me so tight I thought she was going to choke me.

“What you did was stupid,” she said with tears filling her eyes.

“Nobody died,” I cracked.

“You know you aren’t nearly as funny as you think you are,” smiled Cheryl.

“I have my moments.”

Glancing up at the clock, I saw it was almost 2:30. Had this really been going on for nearly two hours? I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me. Facing the gun down was no big deal, but talking to someone about my faith was. Sure, I didn’t have any problems reading the Bible in public or with people asking me if I was a Christian. Talking to them about it was a whole other ballgame.

“What did you say to him to get him to come out?” asked Cheryl.

“I talked to him about Jesus, and then we prayed.”

“Wow, that’s one way of doing it, I guess.”

“I guess. I think I’m going to head home now. I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

“See you tonight?”

“Without a doubt.”

Cinching the trench coat tight around my waist and placing my Fedora back on my head, I leaned out into the cold blast of air. A couple of cops standing around smoking patted me on the back and said what a good job I had done as I walked past.

Pulling the collar up to cover my ears, I headed steadily North to my small apartment. Halfway home, I had decided to take a trip out to Rikers Island in the morning.