Epilogue
The bell dinged as the final customer left the diner.
Her uniform was dirtied to the point where there were barely any visible spots of white remaining, as the majority of it had been messed with coffee, salad dressings, or some other substance. She sighed as she walked into the back of the coffee house to change. Everyone had left. She was the only one there.
She let herself smile solemnly, despite the fact that she had the feeling that she would go gray any second. She liked these moments when she was alone, and could think to herself without any other disturbances. She shed the dirtied outfit and hung it up on a rack, leaving her in denim cutoffs and a plain white t-shirt. She had been hearing the pitter-patter of rain all throughout the later part of the day. She quickly thanked any god that might exist that she had brought the silver hoodie that she was now putting on.
The bell dinged once more. Crap. Another customer.
She groaned as she began to walk out of the room, cursing herself for having not put up the "CLOSED" sign before changing.
"Sorry, but we're closed," she began, not seeing who it was at first. "I ca-" Her eyes met his. She looked down at him, surprised at seeing him without a certain other whom almost always traveled together with him. "Oh, hi Rigby," she said, smiling at the little raccoon. He had just walked in, closing the umbrella Benson had suggested he bring with him. He was also wearing a trench coat.
"Hey, Margaret," he said in a strange monotone, taking off the outerwear and moving toward a coat hanger near the entrance of the house. "I thought you'd be here," he said with a grunt, tossing the coat over the rack. A small white envelope fell from one of the inner pockets, which he quickly scooped up.
"What makes you say that?" Margaret asked inquisitively. Rigby raised an eyebrow at her, not sure if she had remembered what had happened earlier in the day. Suddenly, it hit her like a ton of bricks. She groaned as she covered her face with her wing. "That's right. Mordecai. The park." She swore under her breath once more, incredulous that she would forget about the conversation she had with the blue jay. Rigby merely chuckled as he pulled up a seat at one of the large tables in the foyer. "Is he mad?" He shook his head.
"Naw. But he freaking flipped out! He was like "whoosh" up the stairs!" He said, laughing as he recalled the experience. "He locked himself in our room. He waited for you for, like, ever, dude!" Rigby giggled hysterically as Margaret sighed, rubbing her head and beak with one of her wings, using the other to support her weight on a counter.
"I feel so terrible," she said. Rigby's laughing stopped. "I should've told him I had to work overtime today…" Silence filled the Coffee Shop as Margaret continued to think about how bad she had been throughout the whole day. Of all that had happened… the banana peel, the man talking to Slasher, him breaking up with her… this one took the cake. "I'm a screw-up," she said admittedly. Rigby looked down at his paws, which were resting steadily on the table. He noticed the lack of a cup of joe, which would normally be present before him. He didn't bother looking to the side, knowing that his friend wasn't beside him at that moment.
He blinked back to reality as a soft cling sounded in front of him. He looked down to see a small cup of coffee in between his paws. "Here you go," he heard Margaret say as the robin pulled up a chair beside him, the legs of the stool scratching audibly against the wooden floor of the shop. "It's on the house. But be careful; it's a little hot." Rigby nodded and mouthed a "thank you" as he began to blow on the drink to cool it down.
"He wanted to give this to you." Margaret looked up as she saw the white envelope in front of her face, the raccoon's arm outstretched. She plucked it from his grip. "Something about helping you get out or something…" she tore open the top of it as she saw a little note inside, as well as other wads of paper. "…I think he was gonna give it to you tonight." She reached inside and grabbed the note, reading it carefully. It was simple and short; Margaret liked that.
I know it's not much, but still… Hope this helps you find where you need to go.
- Mordecai
She recalled their conversation from earlier… upon looking in the envelope again, she realized that the other papers… weren't any normal pieces of paper. She let a small gasp escape her open beak as she heard a disgruntled groan beside her, along with the clatter of a cup on the table. She smirked as she saw Rigby waving one paw over his tongue, trying to cool it down, while reaching for the napkin holder in the middle of the table with his other. He finally grabbed a napkin and held it to his tongue, somehow hoping that it would help his burnt taste buds.
"I told you to be careful," Margaret said with a small laugh. Rigby glared at her, and then looked at the envelope in her wings. His eyes softened. He removed the napkin from his tongue and resumed blowing on the cup.
"He wouldn't let me see what's in the envelope," he said while performing his task, Margaret looking at him intently all the while. "But I'm not stupid. I know what's in there." She slid the envelope into a small pocket inside of her hoodie. She continued to gaze at him as he finally took another sip of coffee, this time content with the temperature it met his lips at. With a refreshing "ah", he set the cup down on the table once more. "He likes you, you know."
"Yeah, of course," Margaret said with a small shrug. "I like you guys too. We're all really good fr-"
"No," Rigby stated defiantly, stopping the robin mid-sentence. She was slightly taken aback, shifting in her seat uncomfortably. "I mean, he… really… likes you. Why else would he give you that envelope? Why else would he want to see you in the park tonight?"
"What? Weren't you gonna be there too?"
"No. I know better than to…" He trailed off. Margaret was frozen now, unable to move. Was he? Had he? Did she feel that… She knew the signs had all been pointing toward him, and she could've sworn she recognized the love he was trying to put forth for her. She clenched her eyes shut, putting her head in her wings; elbows resting on the table. She didn't want it to be true. She didn't want him to love her. And moreover, she hated how Rigby had to be the messenger of all this. The one who made it so clearly visible.
"I know," she said after a few moments of silence. It was now the raccoon's turn to gawk. "I mean, I knew. That he… he…" She couldn't allow herself to finish the sentence, still in disbelief.
"…Then why did you lead him on for so long?" Rigby asked, trying to prevent himself from exploding with anger. "Why… if, if you knew that he felt that way about you? Do you like seeing him suffer? Is it something like that?" Margaret shook her head violently in defense.
"No, no!" She said, putting her wings up in front of her body, as if trying to shield herself from the verbal assault. "I mean…" She sighed, placing her head in one wing once again. She took a deep breath in before continuing. "I've always been… a rebel. Going against status quo. My dad… he was a robin, like me and my mom. He left us… when I was very young. I never forgave him for abandoning us like that. I told myself that I would build myself up to become successful, and… and good at… something! Anything!" She chuckled, reminiscing about her ambitions as a young fledgling. "And I told myself that, no matter what happened… I wouldn't fall for another bird. Especially a robin. I mean… it's not that I don't like Mordecai. I really like him. I've just found myself exclusive to others… but I guess that's stupid in itself, isn't it?" She let a solemn smile meet her beak. "Yeah, I'm pretty stupid for trying to be… different, when all I'm doing is being… being…" She let her words disappear into the air before her, not able to find ample words to finish her sentence. "You know what I mean?"
"Wait. Hold up," Rigby said, putting his paws up. "So…" He looked at her in wonder. "You're not a cardinal?" Margaret stared at the small mammal for a few seconds, and then burst out into uncontrollable laughter. She began to caw hysterically, unable to bring herself to stop. Rigby laughed along with her, letting the humor dissolve the tension within the discussion.
"Oh, Rigby," she said, wiping tears out of her eyes while gasping for breath. At last, she stopped laughing long enough to give the raccoon a playful punch on the shoulder. "What would any of us ever do without you?"
"I know!" Rigby said smugly, puffing his chest out with his paws on his hips. "You guys need me to survive!" Margaret giggled, covering her beak with a wing as she did so. Silence soon filled the shop once more as Rigby took another drink of his warm beverage.
"You know," Margaret said, tapping on the table thoughtfully, "I may just take Mordecai up on his offer." Rigby looked up from his coffee and directed his gaze toward the robin. She winked at him. "You can't tell him yet, though, of course." The raccoon chuckled, moving a paw in front of his lips quickly, as if zipping his mouth shut.
"Your secret's safe with me," he said as he continued to chortle, thinking in the back of his mind that there was no way that it could possibly last. His eyes soon found their way to something in the corner of the large room they sat in. "What's that?" He asked, pointing toward the large object. Margaret looked in the direction where the raccoon was designating.
"Oh," she said. It was a very big something, whatever it was. It was covered in white sheets, covered with dust. It seemed almost forgotten, sad and alone in the dark spot of the shop. She got up and walked toward it, Rigby scurrying after her. "It's just an old piano," she said, removing the sheets to reveal just that. She coughed as the dust spread everywhere, getting all over the walls and floor. Rigby coughed as well, waving a paw in front of himself to try to guide the particles somewhere else. "Don't know why we ever put it in here. No one ever uses it. I guess it was for open mic nights or something. I'm thinking we might have one sometime in the future, so we could use it there…" She said, scratching her head with a feathered finger as she pondered the possibilities. "But until then, it's been here. And will stay here. Just collecting dust." She patted the musical instrument with care. Rigby noticed a small stool positioned behind the keys of the piano, in perfect height and alignment. He smiled as he hopped up on the seat, lifting up the cover of the keys.
"You know," he said, pointing to himself in a very outlandish and heroic manner, "I am quite a virtuoso myself." Margaret stifled a laugh as he said those words.
"Somehow, I doubt you even know what that word means." Rigby shot a piercing look in her direction.
"Hey, do I need to tell you about the time of… 'The Power'?" He asked, making sure to take pause for dramatic effect.
"Yes, I think you do," she said, pulling up a stool from one of the other tables and sitting down on it next to the piano and raccoon. Her beak grew wide with excitement and awe as Rigby proceeded to tell her a story about how he and Mordecai once found an enchanted keyboard, and how they used it to go to the moon in order to save one of their friends and coworkers, Skips. "I don't think I've ever seen this Skips. What's he like?" He told her about the yeti-man, and how he was very secretive and didn't like being disturbed when he retreated to the forest. As he finished telling her about the story of The Power, Margaret leaned against the piano thoughtfully. "You know, I'd give anything to go on those sorts of adventures with you guys. Beats this hellhole of a job, that's for sure."
"Hey, our job isn't wine and roses either, lady," he said. "But who knows; with Mordecai for a guy, you just might be dragged into one or two of our crazy shindigs," he finished, giving a small pump with his arm.
"Well, if you're so good with the piano like you said, then why don't you play me something?" She asked. Rigby smiled at her as he started to move his paws across the keys. They both cringed as the sound that emitted grated their ears.
"Hold on, I don't think this thing is in tune…" he muttered, opening up the top of the piano and climbing inside to muddle around. Margaret heard the turning of strings and plucking of metal pieces as the raccoon did his work. "Ahuh… mhmm… Ah, here we go!" He popped back out and sat on the stool, not a scratch on him. He proceeded to play a simple tune that lasted approximately six seconds.
"That was nice," Margaret said with a grin, applauding for the performer. He mock bowed as the bird before him continued to clap.
"That was the tune we used to convince Benson to give us a raise," he said proudly. "'Course, we had to give it back to him later, 'cause he's a loser like that, but it still counts!"
"Can you play anything else? Maybe I can try!"
The two laughed and played as the night went on, and soon the moon would give way to the rising sun. At least the bird didn't have to work the next day. And she was thankful that, at least for these few hours, she could forget about the chaos that she was experiencing, and could lose herself in simply music. They continued to play on that instrument, creating music and notes that would mostly go sour, but would sometimes result in something illustrious and beautiful.
"Your voice isn't half bad."
"Neither is your playing."
"You know," Rigby said, while they were busy composing an interesting little number, "I could do this forever." Margaret laughed alongside the raccoon, patting him on the back.
"So could I."
His paws bounced off the keys as she began to sing. And as she opened her beak to let the musical lyrics come forth, she thought to herself.
What a way to spend a day.
The End
"Sunday in the blue silver chromium diner
On the green purple yellow red stools
Sit the fools who should eat at home
Instead they pay on
Sunday for a cool orange juice or a bagle In the blue silver chromium diner And cholesterol
On the soft green cylindrical stools
Sit the fools drinking cinnamon coffee
Or decaffeinated tea
Forever
Drips the green orange violet drool
From the fools who'd pay less at home
Drinking coffee light and dark
And bums, bums, bums, bums bums bums bums bums
People screaming for their toast
In a small SoHo Cafe
On an island into rivers
On an ordinary
Sunday!
Sunday!
Sunday!...
Brunch." - Jonathan Larson
Thank you to everyone who has read this story, and a big thanks to the late great Jonathan Larson, without whom this story would never exist.