Free When the Cypress Whispers by Yvette Manessis Corporon

running her fingers along the lapel of his tuxedo as she attempted to steady herself.
    “Daphne, ksipna. Wake up.” Baba leaned through the grill opening and waved his spatula at her. “Come on, koukla .” His bushy mustache didn’t quite conceal the space left vacant in his smile by two missing molars. “Customers.”
    “ Ne Baba . I’m going.” Obedient, as always, she counted out six menus.
    Of all the diners in town, why, lord, did they have to pick this one? Why her?
    Daphne ran down her mental wish list. She wished she were anyplace else but here; she wished she didn’t have to spend her weekends working at the diner; she wished that she too could know what it felt like to rest her tipsy head on the lapel of a rumpled tuxedo.
    But Daphne knew those luxuries were not for girls like her. Prom dates and drunken diner breakfasts were not an option for girls trapped between old traditions and a new world.
    She approached the group of teens. “Right this way.” Her words were no more than a whisper.
    Chin to her chest, she led them toward the back of the diner. She motioned to the largest corner booth, hoping they wouldn’t notice the gash in the vinyl seat or that they knew their waitress from homeroom.
    They slid into the booth, buttered by the afterglow of a perfect prom and the easy laughter of lifelong friends.
    “Coffee,” they said in unison, never bothering to look up at the girl whose job it was to serve them.
    “Oh, and water,” the blond girl added as she scanned the menu. She finally looked up at Daphne, never recognizing the girl who sat next to her in chemistry, seeing nothing more than a waitress. “Lots of ice. I’m dying for something cold.”
    Daphne didn’t know which hurt worse, being different or being invisible.
    She walked back to the counter, grateful that her back was now to the table. She pulled the lever on the silver coffee server, but her hand was shaking so badly that the hot liquid spilled all over the saucer and burned her skin as it splattered on her arm.
    “Come on, honey, what’s eatin’ you?” Dina, Daphne’s favorite waitress, was on her. Dina’s pink talon nails scratched Daphne’s hand as she leaned in to steady the cup and saucer. She flipped the lever to stop the coffee’s flow.
    “Those kids say somethin’ to you?” She motioned to the teens in the corner booth.
    “No.” Daphne shook her head. “They didn’t say anything to me.”
    Dina narrowed her kohl-lined eyes and poked at her black bun with the tip of her pencil. “You sure now?” She looked again at the teens. “I’m here if you need me.”
    “I know, Dina.” She nodded. “I know.”
    “Well, you just say the word. And I’ll take care of them.” Dina turned to grab the cheese omelet and fries from the pass-through and tossed the dish on the counter in front of a hungry customer.
    “It’s fine. I’ve got it.” Daphne nodded.
    She filled the cups with steaming coffee and the glasses with ice water. Placing them all on her tray, she carried it to the table. Daphne bit her lower lip as she served the drinks and pulled her pad from the pocket of her black polyester apron. She looked down at her pencil and paper as she wrote, taking their breakfast orders without daring to look up. Trying in vain to stop the pencil from shaking, she scribbled while the teens giggled and kissed. Finally, when the last order was placed, she walked back to the kitchen pass-through and handed the paper to Baba.
    “Here you go.” She forced a smile as he took the paper from her hand. “Dina, can you cover the front, please? I’ve got to use the ladies’ room.”
    “Sure, Daph. I’ve gotcha covered,” Dina shouted from the counter where she was refilling the napkin holders.
    Daphne walked to the back of the diner, away from the noise of the dining room and the manic preparations of the grill. She opened the door to the supply closet, stepped inside, and immediately fell to the floor in a heap of