Jukebox Caf

By Grace Sabella
June 2013


A string of bells jingled obnoxiously against glass as Hugh entered the Jukebox Caf.
The first thing he noticed was the pepless fan rotating just enough to move hot air and
the smell of grease from one side of the restaurant to the other. No one came for the
food, or at least thats what he assumed upon sight of the sticky red tablecloths and
French fries that speckled the checkered floor. That and the fact that he was the only
soul in sight.
He walked up to the bar and squinted at a sign asking customers to Please seat
yourself or ring for service. What kind of caf required its customers to ring a bell for
service? Not sure if there was an employee in the place, he rang it despite the sheen
applied by dirty hands, and the shrill sound barely cut through an old tune produced by
the jukebox in the corner.
Almost a full minute later, a young woman appeared from the back, wiping her
hands on her waitresss apron. She smiled and said, Can I get you a menu?
No, thanks. Im looking for the proprietor of this establishment.
That would be me.
He looked her up and down, noticing every detail from her worn-out clothes and
dirty blonde hair to her beach of freckles and the lime green polish chipping from her
nails. Certain his face betrayed his skepticism, he asked, How long have you owned
the place?
Well, it kind of fell into my hands about a year ago. Why do you need to
know? She frowned, quite positive his cheap excuse for a suit jacket and ten dollar
sunglass didnt belong in her caf and certainly had no right to question her.
He paused a moment, then grunted. Right. I always forget. He fished around
in his pocket and produced a wallet, flipped it open, and held it out for her. Hugh
Cartwright, Fault Line Management.
Without batting an eyelash, she inspected the card carefully. I wouldnt have
accused you of being a management man.
Ill count that as a compliment.
Dont.
Not knowing exactly how to continue, Hugh returned his identification to his
pocket while considering his words. Do you get much business? he asked obviously
after a moment of awkward silence filled by a sad song from the jukebox.
Its a madhouse most days; you just came at a bad time."
She said it totally deadpan, and he had to hesitate, not sure whether to
acknowledge the statement as sarcasm. So he moved on to the real business of his
visit. Management has reported numerous fault line disturbances at this location. I
assume you can collaborate that.
Disturbances? She blinked at him. Hardly.
Somethings going on, hence my visit. He waited for what he assumed would
be her inevitable explanation, which never came. Since youre making me ask, here it
is: This is an official investigation, and I need to know what at this location is causing
the disturbances.
Well, she said plainly, why dont you do a little actual investigation and find
out for yourself? Or arent you management types paid to do anything more than talk?
Ah, so there is something to find. He seemed satisfied with himself for getting
that insinuation out of her, and she frowned.
Either there is or there isnt. Im simply saying its your job to find out, not
mine.
Fair enough. He pushed up his sunglasses and stepped away from the counter.
Its not like I expect cooperation from you keepers. Reaching into his pocket, he
produced a translucent, bean-sized device and adjusted it into his ear. Then he stood
perfectly still and listenedlistened to the beat of the fan, to the throbbing of traffic
outside, to the sizzle of the fryer in the kitchen, and then to the strum of guitar chords
artificially vibrating from the jukebox.
That was it, the jukebox. He walked over, around a few tables, and leaned in to
notice every detail. He determined every color of its psychedelic arches and every
condiment-tipped smudge, but most importantly he noticed the minute fracture in the
tile at the machines base.
He smiled to himself and knelt down, slowly tracing his fingers along the line.
Its been a while since Ive encountered a sound disturbance, he said mostly to
himself. In a fault this small, its one of the few things that can worm its way through.
But it obviously does.
Obviously? Really? A crack in the floor of a dump like this? Shed walked up
behind him and crossed her arms. Thats quite a stretch.
Hugh turned and finally removed his sunglass. Ive been in management a lot
longer than a year. I know obvious when I see it. He paused for a second. Im sorry, I
didnt catch your name.
I didnt give it.
And now Im asking. At her look of defiance, he added, Officially.
Annie.
Annie ... ?
Just Annie.
Okay, Just Annie, tell me about this jukebox.
She shrugged. Theres not much to tell. Its been here since I acquired the place,
playing music, you know, like jukeboxes are known to do.
And youve been its keeper.
She rolled her eyes. You can see how well I take care of it, so yeah, lets go with
keeper. She added air quotes for sarcastic emphasis.
You have quite the well rehearsed defense.
And you have no proof. She narrowed her eyes at his smile. What?
You did it again, implied that theres proof to be found.
You have your work cut out for you if you want to transform that fancy to
truth.
Thats why youre going to help me.
She uncrossed her arms and placed them on her hips. What exactly about our
discourse thus far has led you to that conclusion?
Only that Im sure a years been long enough for you to have seen first hand
how dangerous fault disturbances can be. Management sent me to negate those
dangers, no matter how slim you may perceive them to be.
Yeah, I understand that disturbances are dangerous, but theres no disturbance
here. Its a perfectly functioning fault.
Something in her voice hinted otherwise, and he studied her closely. Perfectly
functioning? Her expression faltered, and he didnt need to say more. He simply
waited.
Well, certainly nothing that qualifies as a disturbance, but things have
happened. Nothing dangerous, just ... out of the ordinary. This fault line is unique, its
evolving.
Nothing evolves when it comes to fault lines. He sighed and took a seat at the
nearest table, gesturing for her to join him. Locking eyes with her, he explained, They
only devolve and mutate over time into something unstable at best and death traps at
worst. He tried to conceal the pain in his voice, but he doubted with much success.
You lost someone to a fault, didnt you? She spoke softly for the first time,
which transformed her youthful defiance into innocent concern.
Hugh swallowed and cleared his throat, then said, My wife and daughter.
An awkward silence; it endured pitifully.
Finally, he composed himself. Thats why Im here. I dont want anyone else to
lose the people they love like I did. You understand why this is important?
Yes. She examined his expression but could find no sight into his soul. I
assure you, nothing like that could happen here.
Why not?
Come see for yourself. She moved back to the jukebox and held out a hand.
Give me a dime. He produced one from his pocket and dropped it onto her palm, and
she flicked it into the machine with skilled ease. Now pick a song.
He read a few of the album titles and shook his head. Power by Kansas? Ive
never heard of any of these.
Is that the musics fault or yours?
Fine. He read through the songs and said, How about Taking In the View?
Great. This song will give you the answer to your question.
I didnt ask a question.
But you still want to know the answer.
Hughs eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. Hed never met quite such a
riddlesome keeper before, but there was something about her that intrigued him, so he
decided to stop questioning everything and let her show him whatever she intended.
Are you ready? she asked. He nodded, and she pressed in the buttons P7. The
record dropped into place and began to play the songs eerie cords. Close your eyes
and just listen, she said. Feel the heartbeat of it.
Hugh wanted to shut his eyes and join her in tranquil stillness, but he couldnt
remove himself from the transformation happening around him. The lights flickered in
tune to the rhythm of music, and then all the material furnishings joined the dance
around enchanted lyrics.

The world began to change
The children moved and they had children
It was all arranged, you couldn't live there anymore

All you had was that old place
In the middle of the path of progress
So they took the space and put the ceiling on the floor

In one of the rooms all the walls were blue
It was hidden so well that no one knew
Just the place for taking in the view

Blackness struck like the beat of a wing and then vanished into a hazy afternoon.
The music continued, but now dull and tinny, barely escaping the jukebox speakers.
Annie opened her eyes nodded to the now bustling caf. Welcome to my other
palace.
A quick glance around revealed the same caf but even more worn out, though
this time the florescent light gleamed from a polished floor and clean tablecloths. The
same fan swung overhead, but it seemed to have a little more pep. The real difference
was the people. The place now brimmed with laughing children who gorged
themselves on fries while spilling ketchup and smiling parents who tried their best to
clean small faces.
Hugh stepped forward into the place, amazed. This is
Annie! A stout young man sporting an apron and buzz cut emerged from the
swinging doors of the kitchen and interrupted him. About time you got back. Table
twelve is ready to order.
Thanks, Chuck. Im on it.
Chuck nodded and disappeared within the depths of the kitchen.
Hugh turned back to Annie. Who was that?
My boss. I hired him shortly after acquiring the place.
You hired your own boss?" He raised an eyebrow, then lowered it again. "Never
mind, I dont want to know.
What do you want to know, exactly? A glare began to take shape on her face.
Does this place look like an unstable death trap to you?
Well, no, not at first
I didnt think so. I brought you here so you could see for yourself that theres
nothing disturbed about it, so why dont you hurry up and do your investigating so I
can get on with my business. As you can see, its booming, and I have tables to wait.
Whoa, okay. He held up his hands on reflex. Ill get started. Please bring me
a glass of water.
Excuse me?
I always start by drinking the water.
She narrowed her eyes, then sighed, not in defeat but in resignation. Ill be
right back.
Hugh walked over to the bar and took a seat on one of the faded red stools while
he waited. He listened to the chatter and paid attention to the rhyme and pitch of it,
and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The string of bells rang as the door opened,
and two new patrons entered the caf. A mother guided her middle school aged
daughter to a booth, and they began to chat softly to each other. They looked so much
alike, both with thickly curled black hair, tan skin that glowed even in the worst of
lights, and inquisitive dark eyes.
Hugh leaned forward, not sure he could believe what he saw. Was it even
possible?
Here you go. Annie set a glass of water on the counter with unnecessary force,
startling him from his thoughts. But he didnt say anything and didnt look away from
the booth. What is it?
Thats impossible, he said.
What? She followed his line of sight. Sophia and Marie? Theyre regulars.
He abruptly turned to her, imploring her with intense eyes. You know them?
I just said theyre regulars. Why? Do you know them?
Theyre my family ... but they cant be here. There were erased from time
itself.
Unless youre wrong.
He watched his wife wink a secret message to his daughter, and Marie laughed
the laugh of a hundred bubbles bursting all at once. I want to be wrong, he
whispered.
This place is a haven, she said simply, and he believed her.