Snow White and Her Vampire King

~Iris POV~

The familiar chime of the door welcomes me as I walk into the diner to begin my shift. I've just dropped Arwen off at school; the fifteen-minute walk gave me just enough time to make it here for the breakfast rush. Joan pulls me into a tight hug as I step inside the diner and behind the counter.

"How's our baby doing today, Snow?" she asks, heading back toward the counter. Two regulars had just sat at the bar stools in front of the register. 

"Good as can be expected. Oh, Joan! He has another treatment today, so I'll need to be out by 2 p.m. to get him there," I reply, as I'm tying my apron around my waist and smoothing the creases of the black fabric before grabbing my pen and pad.

"You've got it, sweetie! I almost forgot it was a treatment day," Joan says, sliding past me with the coffee pot in hand.

I inhale the sweet aroma of the fresh pot, grounding myself in the moment. The ding of the door chime reminds me there are customers to serve. In walks an elderly couple, Reba and Harold Jones. I set up a tray with their usual: two cups of coffee, three yellow packets of sugar, two creams for Reba, and straight for Harold.

"Good morning, darling!" Reba greets me as I place their cups on the table.

"Mornin' Reba, Harold," I say. "Are we sticking with the usuals for breakfast today?"

"Yes," Harold replies gruffly. He's sweet in his own way, but you'd never know it from his rough exterior, his bushy eyebrows knit to a scowl, angry if you didn't know him well. "Is my boy at school?"

"Of course he is, Harold. But he'll be here for dinner service later," I smile at his eyebrows raise to disappointed. "I know you've got a mean game of checkers lined up with him."

I hear the old man chuckle as I head to the window to place their order.

"Order in! Two eggs running, hash all the way extra stiff, wearing limping grunts. Then two wrecked, make them cry, with a shingle and shimmy!"

"Heard!" Jimmy hollers over the sizzle of the flat top.

As I hand over the ticket, Jimmy flashes me a grin and gives a thumbs-up. The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity, with the clattering of utensils and the hissing of the grill blending into a symphony of breakfast prep. I turn back to the counter in front of me and the booths by the windows. Reba and Harold are chatting quietly in the booth furthest from the door, the smell of coffee, bacon and eggs filling the space.

"So, how's the game of checkers going to go without Arwen?" I ask, pulling out my notepad to jot down the next orders.

Harold grunts but there's a twinkle in his eye. "I'll have to find a new partner in crime for today."

Glancing sideways at his wife "You know, Reba, I bet Iris might be up for a game if you ask nicely."

Reba chuckles, her eyes twinkling. "You hear that, baby girl? Looks like you've got a challenge on your hands if you want to keep up with Harold's winning streak."

I laugh softly, holding on to a rare moment of brightness amid the busy haze of morning. Moments later, Joan jumps in with a fresh pot of joe, setting it on the counter.

" Refills anyone?" she shouts, and the regulars start to make their requests.

I stare back at the kitchen. Jimmy is working on the orders with excellent speed. The sizzling of the griddle and bursts of jokes and laughter from the back create a rhythm that sings a melody that makes me feel at home.

 The breakfast rush speeds up, and suddenly I'm in the familiar dance of -taking orders, passing them to Jimmy. His "Heard!" followed by the "Ding, Order Up!"

 Joan and I move about with the rhythm of graceful execution. One of us refilling coffee cups, clearing plates, taking orders and following suit as we move back and forth around the diner. The work keeps the pace steady as the hum of clinking utensils and conversations ebb and flow in the background.

 Before I knew it, we go to lunch orders, shifting from "cluck and grunts" (eggs and bacon) to "burning one and running it through the garden" (burgers with all the toppings).

 I find myself lost in the rhythm, focusing only on the checkered floors and the plush corner booths full of hungry customers. It's a welcome distraction from the worries that weigh on me.

I grab a tray from Joan and I grab at it without checking if it's balanced. I usually have quick reflexes but the whole tray abruptly crashes to the ground. The breaking of glass cups and plates echoes through the diner. The contents pool at my feet and I can feel liquid dripping down my hair. 

Joan rushes to help me clean up the mess and in my haste, I cut my hand on some broken glass. She continues the clean-up as I go to find some bandages and antibiotic soap.

I wash my hands and apply the bandage. I sigh and look at my reflection to note the gravy and mashed potatoes in my hair. It's raven black, my lipstick is smeared from the gravy and I try to pull the potatoes out. 

I do so, and my hair suddenly topples off my head. My white hair shines silver in the fluorescent light of the bathroom. I have it covered because the platinum color makes me look three times older. 

 My regulars have no clue I wear a wig. It's not all that attractive, The cut has stringy bangs and a face frame, I got the wig because I was told I looked ancient. I hate my white hair, it won't take any kind of hair dye either so my mom's former Halloween wig it's been for the last three years since I started at Frank's Diner. I turn on the sink and rinse the synthetic hair off.

I place it on top of my head and blot my lipstick. My mom always loved rose-colored lip tints. I look like I'm dead without the bright red hue. I look one more time to make sure everything is back in place and head back to the main dining space. Joan had the mess cleaned up and we are hopping on through the early afternoon. 

 " Snow, I'm keeping an eye on the time for you babe, table five is your last one for today. Once you cash them out, I have Danny covering your section after you bug out. Hug Arwen for me please."

 "Thanks Joan, I appreciate you so much ! I will give Arwen a huge hug for you." I say as I grab the check and the payment from a lady who has bright orange hair. 

 "C' mere," Joan hugged me tight, " now don't get bit on the way back, I really don't want to have to stake you when you get here." 

 I giggle and remind her it's only two on the clock and I will be back before dinner is all over. I grab the sweater I came in with, and head out the door. 

 During the fifteen-minute walk to Arwen's school, my thoughts were consumed by the mounting bills and the shadow of our financial troubles. Dad was already working two jobs, while I worked at the diner, trying to keep us afloat. But we were dangerously close to sinking. Each step felt heavy, the weight of our situation pressing down on me.

The school bell rang, pulling me from my worries. I steeled myself with the most genuine smile I could manage as Arwen came bounding down the sidewalk toward me, his face lighting up at the sight of me. Despite his rare blood disorder, hemophilia, which makes his blood clot poorly, you'd never know he was suffering from his cheerful demeanor.

I knelt to his level as he wrapped his little arms around my neck. "Sissy!" he exclaimed, grabbing my hand to walk toward the bus stop.

"So, how was school?" I asked.

"It was the best! We colored, played tag, found a frog, and read stories," he chattered excitedly.

"Wait, you found a frog?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"Yup, it was this big!" He spread his arms wide.

"Are you sure it was THAT big?" I asked, squinting my eyes playfully.

"Sure was," he insisted, nodding earnestly.

He spent the rest of the twenty-minute bus ride trying to convince me of the frog's impressive size, his excitement a welcome distraction from the weight of our financial struggles.

As we arrived at the hospital, the familiar sterile scent and the buzz of activity in the lobby greeted us. The sight of the waiting room, with its muted colors and uncomfortable chairs, was a stark reminder of why we were here. I led Arwen to the waiting area, my heart heavy with concern, but I kept my smile intact for his sake. The journey to the hospital was always a blend of hope and anxiety, and today was no different.