The Crossroads Diner

Chapter 1

Chapter 1Eric Fong rubbed his gloved hands together as he walked past various restaurants, diners, and other eateries as he slowly made his way along the sidewalk. There were still many people in Chinatown even though it was nearly nine o’clock at night. Then again, it was New York City. It was to be expected, and it was early yet, at least based on the standard in New York City, especially since it was Saturday. It was a beautiful evening even though the weather was a bit chilly. Most shops and eating places in Chinatown were already closed, though. Eric knew all the non-residents here would most probably start heading elsewhere soon enough. As he reached the edge of the street, he turned to the right, and he was stunned by the sight of an unfamiliar building.

“What the…” Eric trailed off in bewilderment. “That’s new.”

He was honestly more than a little taken aback when he noticed the roadside diner about ten feet away from him. It wasn’t there earlier that morning so he guessed it was probably one of those portable buildings with wheels or something similar. Judging by what he could see of it from the outside, it wasn’t a huge diner, and it consisted of a single level. He approached it out of curiosity and circled around the building. There were no windows, and all four sides of the exterior and the rooftop were made of bamboos. Then he got to the entryway, which was fully covered by nothing more than simply a long piece of red cloth that hung all the way down to the ground. He also caught sight of a couple of ancient, Chinese-style red lanterns that were hooked by a slender piece of red rope onto the nails on both sides of the bamboo walls about an inch away from the red cloth.

He stepped back to get a better look at the diner. When he glanced up, the name of the diner was visible. It was called The Crossroads Diner. Its name was literally written, old-school calligraphy style, in Chinese characters on yet another piece of red cloth. The cloth was somehow pinned to the bamboo wall. He was intrigued by the diner now, so he decided to check out the interior. He had just grabbed the red cloth that was draped over the entryway when the wind started howling and blowing harshly. He released the red cloth in an instant and wrapped his winter coat around himself even tighter. He was startled when he realized that the wind had abruptly stopped, and he quickly darted his eyes all around him. All of the buildings, vehicles, and people appeared normal to him. None of the pedestrians seemed to be astonished by the unexpected and brief strong wind, and neither did they pay him any attention.

He shivered a bit as he reached for the red cloth for the second time and pushed it to the side before heading inside the diner. The diner was quite well-lit, even though it only had candles on the various tables as the sources of light for the entire place. There was a large refrigerator in one corner of the diner, and a freezer right next to it. Eric was surprised when he discovered that the inside was much larger than what it looked like from the outside, but he was even more astonished when he discovered that all the other customers inside the diner were staring in his direction even as they remained seated in their chairs. Most of them were dressed like any men or women in the twenty-first century, but the remainders were wearing either clothing from the previous centuries or traditional, ethnic clothing. He wondered for a moment if there might be a convention going on that he wasn’t aware of. Or maybe there was something wrong with his face or clothes. He patted himself everywhere, but he didn’t find anything off about him. However, the customers’ gazes were still fixed upon him.

He heard the sound of bells tinkling a few times suddenly, and to his utter relief, the customers averted their eyes away from him. They were probably just curious or something. He relaxed a little and continued to study the inside of the diner. In all honesty, the diner felt rather old. It was as if it hadn’t caught up with the twenty-first century. In fact, Eric felt the diner, except for the refrigerator and freezer, would be a better fit for the twelfth or thirteenth century. However, the diner looked clean, and everything inside was neat and tidy. Eric thought he should give the diner the benefit of the doubt. He shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. He might end up enjoying the food and the overall experience. Besides, he was already inside the diner. He might as well try it out.

“Welcome to The Crossroads Diner.”

The sound was low and husky, and Eric thought it had to be sexiest voice in the world, but was nothing compared to the man who uttered the greeting. He gaped at the unknown, smiling man who was standing behind the circular counter located in the center of the room. He easily ignored all the other customers who sat around the counter. Or the ones who occupied the wooden tables and chairs scattered throughout the diner. This man had to be the owner of the diner. He wore a fitted black T-shirt and a pair of maroon jeans that showed off his lightly muscled build. He was probably two or three inches shorter than Eric’s six feet height, but he must be thirty to forty pounds lighter. Eric was totally mesmerized by the owner. The man wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, but he was very cute. Eric raised his right hand in greeting and nodded once before grinning at the owner in response.

“Thank you. A table for one, please.”

The man’s facial expression didn’t change, but Eric could tell that it was getting rather strained. He wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong with him. As a restaurateur who owned and managed one of the most popular dim sum restaurants in Chinatown, maybe even in the whole of New York City, he would be delighted to have any customers inside his establishment. A part of him felt rather offended by the less-than-welcoming vibe that was put out by the owner of this diner. On any other occasions, he would have stormed out without another word. However, something made him stop. He felt as if he needed to be there inside the diner for some unfathomable reason.

“You may sit anywhere you like, sir,” the owner of the diner eventually said. “There are quite a few empty tables tonight. I’ll be right with you.”

“Okay.”

After that, Eric chose a table that was closest to the entryway before removing his coat. November in New York City wasn’t really that cold. The last time he checked, which was more than two hours ago, it was predicted that the temperature would drop to somewhere around forty degrees Fahrenheit as it got later in the evening. The inside of this diner was quite warm, though. Eric was even perspiring a little, and he could feel the sweat rolling down his back. Even his armpits were rather moist now. His turtleneck stuck to him rather uncomfortably, but he figured he would adapt to the weird heating inside the diner soon enough.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the owner of the diner apologized while placing a one-page menu on the table in front of Eric. “What can I get for you tonight?”

Eric browsed through the menu. Not that it was difficult. There were only ten Chinese dishes altogether, and the diner didn’t serve any beverages other than tea, the list of which was very extensive, bottled water, or baijiu, which was also known as sorghum wine. Eric silently thought this had to be the weirdest diner in the world. None of the dishes appealed to him, though.

“What’s the special for tonight?” Eric inquired as he gazed into the eyes of the owner of the diner.

The color of the man’s eyes were brown just like Eric’s, but was a shade or two lighter. They both had a full head of black hair, and Eric guessed the other man was probably four or five years younger than him. Not that he was old. He was still three years away from the big four-oh.

“Do you like steamed dumplings?” the owner of the diner asked. “The fillings include minced pork and shrimp. I’ll even give you a bowl of pork bone soup.”

Eric drooled a little inside his mouth. “That sounds amazing. How many dumplings in one serving?”

“Ten.”

Eric beamed widely in an instant. “One serving, please.”

“Very good. Something to drink?”

“Tea, please. Jasmine, if you have it.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Eric was excited now. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to make his own dumplings or pork bone soup, but those two dishes always reminded him of his late maternal grandmother. Since he was always busy at the restaurant, he didn’t have the time or energy to prepare those dishes by the time he reached home. He loved eating them on a cold night like this. They brought back wonderful memories of the time he got to spend with his late maternal grandmother. He was so lost inside his head, he was more than a bit astonished when the owner of the diner returned to his table less than five minutes later.

“Wow!” Eric exclaimed in amazement as two bamboo steamers were put down on the table right in front of him, and judging by the steam rising off their surface, the content must be really hot. “That’s fast.”

The owner of the diner chuckled. “The dumplings actually aren’t available on the menu. I had to make them from scratch.”

Eric was even more impressed now. “How did you manage to do that in such a short time?”

“I have my way,” the owner of the diner replied with a wink before depositing a bowl of soup on top of the table. “Trade secret. Can’t tell you about it.”

Eric chortled slightly. “Fine.”

He thought that the owner was probably lying about that trade secret crap. Those dumplings must be store-bought frozen ones, and they just had to be heated up. Regardless, Eric was still impressed by the fact that the owner had managed to present him with these dumplings in such a short period of time.

“And here’s your pot of tea,” the owner said while putting down a plain red teapot on top of the table. “And a matching cup to go with the pot. The chopsticks and other utensils are inside the covered container to the right of the table. Enjoy!”

Eric grinned. “Thank you so much.”

The owner of the diner simply nodded before walking away. Eric stared after the back of the owner of the diner for a few seconds longer before his attention was directed toward the dishes in front of him. He lifted the lids off the bamboo steamers, and the scent that wafted toward him caused the saliva to pool inside his mouth. It smelled incredible. Each of the bamboo steamers contained five dumplings. Eric grabbed a pair of chopsticks, which were all black in color, except for an inch of redness at the thicker end, and gently picked up one of the dumplings before blowing on it to cool it slightly. Then he bit down on it. In the next instant, the savory flavor overwhelmed him, and he groaned under his breath. He also felt the prickling in his eyes as the tears filled them up while he shoved another one into his mouth. He was stunned by the familiar taste of the dumplings. He swore the dumplings tasted exactly the same as the ones his late grandmother used to make for him.

He stared at all the dumplings in shock for a moment before he glanced at the pork bone soup. There was nothing extraordinary about the pork bone soup, but he began to wonder if it would also remind him of the one boiled by his grandmother many years ago when she was still alive and healthy. His hand trembled a little as he held the soup spoon in his right hand. He dipped it in the soup and scooped up a small portion of the obviously scorching liquid before bringing it closer to his mouth. He slurped on it. He was completely stunned when he discovered that its flavor was identical to his late grandmother’s soup. He immediately raised his head and stared at the owner of the diner who was also looking back at him. Their gazes locked for quite a while before Eric averted his eyes. This diner was weird, but he couldn’t care less. He had been missing his late grandmother’s dumplings and pork bone soup ever since she had passed away more than five years ago when she was eighty-eight years old. He wiped the tears from his eyes in a hurry even as he continued to shovel dumpling after dumpling into his mouth. He also cleared out every single drop of the pork bone soup until there was nothing left inside the bowl, except for the bones of the pork, the seed of the single dried date, and the cob of the corn.

“Good?”

The voice of the owner startled Eric, and he almost choked on the tea he was currently sipping on. He grimaced a little as he gulped down the remainder of the jasmine tea in the cup before smiling at the owner of the diner who was standing a couple of inches away from his table.

“More than,” Eric replied. “They brought back memories.”

“Food can do that sometimes.”

Eric chuckled. “I guess that’s true. What’s your name, by the way? I’m Eric Fong. Fong is Fang in Mandarin.”

“I know,” the owner of the diner replied while nodding. “I’m Wen Bingyao.”

“No English name?”

“I acquired one a few years ago.”

“What is it?”

“Benjamin.”

“Ben Wen. Nice one.”

Benjamin snickered. “Thanks. What about you? No Chinese name?”

“Fang Yang.”

Benjamin laughed out loud now. “What a coincidence. My name means incandescent in English while yours is defined as either shining or positivity.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess we’re destined to cross paths with each other.”

“Absolutely,” Eric agreed before gesturing at the empty chair across from him. “Will you have a seat and chat with me for a moment? Unless you’re too busy with the other customers—”

“Nah,” Benjamin cut Eric off midsentence while he plopped onto the chair. “So, Eric. What brought you here?”

“Curiosity.”

Benjamin arched his left eyebrow slightly. “Curiosity?”

Eric nodded. “I own a dim sum restaurant in Chinatown.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Not to toot my own horn, but it’s one of the most popular dim sum restaurants in New York City.”

Benjamin chuckled. “Awesome. Is it open for business every day?”

“Tuesday through Sunday from eleven in the morning until eight in the evening. My only day off is Monday. Or when the major holidays come around. What about your diner?”

“Every day, including the holidays.”

Eric gasped under his breath. “Seriously?”

“More or less. It really depends on how many customers need to come in to the diner.”

Eric stared at Benjamin in shock. “For real?”

“Uh-huh. The diner doesn’t have a fixed set of operating hours. My customers don’t usually make their way into the diner in the daylight hours anyway.”

“Oh! So, like a specialty diner of sorts?”

Benjamin grinned. “Something like that.”

“That’s cool.”

After that, the two of them were quiet. Eric didn’t quite know how to continue with the conversation. He had also never heard of a diner like Benjamin’s. Then again, the world was full of unique restaurants, diners, shops, and many more. Eric shouldn’t have been that astonished. He finished sipping on his tea as quickly as he could before smiling at Benjamin.

“Would you like me to add more hot water into the pot?” Benjamin asked while gesturing at the plain red teapot with one hand.

Eric shook his head in a hurry. “No, thank you. I think I’ve drunk more than enough tea for tonight. I really should be getting home.”

“Subway?”

“Nope,” Eric answered. “I have a m**********s at one of the buildings in the Financial District where my car is parked. It’s about twenty minutes away on foot.”

“Why so far away?”

“The fee is two hundred and fifty dollars cheaper per month than the one here in Chinatown. I also get a discounted rate if I pay for the entire year instead of month to month.”

“I see.”

“New York is expensive, man. I still have to pay the mortgage, the monthly utility bills, and maintenance fee for my apartment, and the cost of running a restaurant isn’t cheap. There are plenty of other expenses, as well. Everything adds up really fast.”

“I understand.”

Eric felt embarrassed when he realized that he had just complained to Benjamin about something he usually preferred to keep private. He and Benjamin weren’t friends. He couldn’t even call them acquaintances. He had just met Benjamin that evening, for f**k’s sake.

“Hey, I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have unloaded all of my problems—”

“It’s fine. I’ll listen to you anytime.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s all right.”

Eric wanted to protest further, but he changed his mind mere seconds later. Benjamin seemed so sincere, and Eric didn’t want to make the situation even more awkward by harping on the matter.

“Thank you then.”

“You’re welcome.”

Eric smiled. “Anyway, how much do I owe you?”

Benjamin slid a piece of paper across the table to Eric. It was a handwritten bill.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for another few minutes?” Benjamin asked while Eric pulled his wallet out from the pocket of his jeans.

“I want to, but I can’t. I need to sleep. I’ll have to be at the restaurant at nine in the morning. It may be open for business at eleven, but I have a ton of things to take care of prior to that. You own a diner yourself. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do.”

After that, Eric settled the bill. He also thanked Benjamin once again for the food and the conversation before he headed toward the exit. He hadn’t noticed this second entryway earlier, but he must have missed it. He had only seen that entryway because the other customers were going out through it after their meals were over. However, he was taken aback when Benjamin was abruptly standing next to him and clutching his wrist tightly, stopping him from reaching for the white cloth that covered the second entryway.

“Ben, what—”

“That path isn’t meant for you.”

“What? Why? I don’t understand.”

Benjamin gently pushed Eric back toward the original entryway before pushing the red cloth to the side. “Here you go.”

That was weird, but Eric quickly shrugged it off. “Uh, okay. Thanks.”

Benjamin nodded. “Good bye, Eric. Stay safe. Okay? Until we meet again someday in the future.”

Eric thought the farewell was rather peculiar. It sounded as if Benjamin didn’t expect for the two of them to have another encounter. At least not for a while. Eric waved uncertainly at Benjamin before walking away. Benjamin was a bit odd, but he seemed like a great guy. Plus, Eric loved the steamed dumplings and the pork bone soup that were served at The Crossroads Diner. He would pay the diner another visit soon enough. As he made his way toward the Financial District, he was already making plans inside his head to visit the diner at least twice a week. Maybe even more than that. Benjamin would be so surprised.