Waiting For Delivery

CHAPTER FOUR

By the time the buffet closed, the kitchen air had cooled down and the usual breakfast chaos finally died. The three of us—me, Lea, and Janine—washed our hands, hung our aprons, and made our way to the staff cafeteria, just in time for lunch.

The cafeteria wasn’t fancy—long white tables, plastic chairs, and the unmistakable scent of Thai basil and garlic lingering in the air. But it had one thing that made it golden: free food.

“Grabe, gutom na gutom ako,” Janine said, grabbing a tray. “Pakiramdam ko niluto ko buong buffet kanina.”

“Kasi nga halos buong buffet nga ang niluto mo,” I teased.

Lea chuckled, already piling her plate with rice, pad kra pao, and fried tofu. “Basta ako, kahit ano, basta may egg.”

We were just sitting down when the afternoon staff walked in—still fresh, not yet drenched in oil and stress.

“Ay! Morning shift zombies!” Mark grinned, waving a hand. “May natira pa bang food?”

“Wala na. Kinain na namin lahat,” I smirked.

“Yabang!” he fired back, laughing as he got in line. “Sige lang, enjoy niyo na ‘yung uwian niyo mamaya habang kami pa lang papasok sa giyera.”

Once everyone was seated, the chatter got louder. It always did when all the Pinoys were together.

“Alam mo ba, may guest kanina humingi ng ketchup, pero ayaw nung sachet—gusto ‘yung nasa bowl,” said Lea, shaking her head.

Janine leaned in, “Tapos, ‘di pa siya marunong mag-English. So sabi niya, ‘red, red! jam!’”

We all burst out laughing.

Mark raised his spoon. “Aba, ketchup jam. Pwede ‘yan!”

Someone from the kitchen staff walked by and greeted, “Kin khao!” (Eat rice!)

We chorused back with awkward but cheerful “Kin khao!” and waves.

Despite our different shifts and exhaustion levels, those thirty minutes over lunch were always sacred. Filled with Tagalog jokes, stories from home, comparing bruises from trays, and laughing about mistakes only we understood.

By the time we returned to the restaurant floor, the lunch lull had begun. Only two tables were occupied—an old European couple quietly eating soup, and a young solo traveler editing photos on a laptop.

We moved slower now. The kind of pace that allowed your brain to catch up with your body.

Lea wiped down a clean table. “Ang tahimik no? Nakakapanibago.”

Janine nodded. “Gusto ko ng tahimik, pero ‘wag naman ganito katahimik. Parang… creepy.”

I laughed, stacking cutlery. “Mamaya na kasi babawi ang mga guests. Sa gabi, parang bigla silang lumalabas ng lungga.”

Most of us were standing by the coffee station, pretending to be productive while secretly enjoying the rare lull.

“May kwento ako,” Mark suddenly said, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Oh no,” I muttered, already grinning. “Pag ganito ang simula, alam na…”

Mark ignored me. “Sabi ng dating housekeeping staff dito—dati raw, may isang guest na tumuloy sa Room 308. Babae. Minsan, lumalabas siya sa hallway ng madaling araw… umiiyak.”

Lea raised an eyebrow. “Oh wow, classic horror setup. Tapos?”

“Tapos,” Mark leaned in, lowering his voice, “nagsumbong ‘yung ibang guest. Kasi raw, ‘yung babae... hindi raw lumalakad—lumulutang.”

Everyone groaned and laughed at the same time.

“Mark, ang corny mo!” Janine said, smacking his arm with a towel.

But our Thai colleague, P’Toon, looked half-amused, half-curious. “This is real story?”

Mark grinned. “I don't know, P’. Fake lang siguro… or maybe not. Malay natin.”

P’Nok, one of the Thai F&B staff, chimed in, “No joke, before I work here… I hear from my friend—she say at night, one guest ask for extra towel. When staff bring to the room, no one inside. Room is locked, but no guest there.”

We all blinked.

“Stop it,” Janine whispered. “I need to sleep in the dorm alone tonight.”

“Grabe kayo,” I added. “Parang gusto ko mag-leave bigla.”

Then P’Mai entered the room and raised an eyebrow. “Why so quiet?”

Mark smirked. “Ghost stories, P’Mai.”

She rolled her eyes but smirked. “Oh. You not hear about kitchen ghost?”

We all turned to her.

“Kitchen ghost?” Lea repeated.

P’Mai nodded seriously. “Yes. Sometimes… freezer door open by itself. No people. Only whoosh!” She mimicked a ghost flying.

Everyone laughed but glanced at the kitchen door all the same.

P’Toon chuckled, “We should tell manager. Hire monk, not new staff.”

I added dramatically, “May idea ako. Let’s do a cleansing ritual—start by cleaning the dirty dishes we’ve been avoiding.”

Groans erupted as we reluctantly returned to our tasks, but the lighthearted chills lingered in the air. The afternoon crew—both Filipino and Thai—bonded over exaggerated tales, teasing each other, faking sudden ghostly gasps every time someone dropped a spoon.

Even the usual clatter of pans and clinks of cutlery seemed a little louder.

But laughter always followed quickly after.

By the time the clock ticked to 3:00 PM, the sun was blazing outside and our shift was finally over. We signed out, returned our aprons, and changed back into our casual clothes.

I walked past the afternoon staff who were prepping for the dinner service, giving them sympathetic smiles.

“Good luck, guys,” I said to Mark.

He snorted. “Pray for us. Mga alas otso, darating ‘yan—sabay-sabay pa. Buffet rush ulit.”

“Yung tipong nagka-crisis sila ng sabay-sabay tapos dito sa restaurant magko-comfort food,” Lea added.

Janine patted his shoulder. “Hang in there. Kami, uwian na.”

We waved and walked out together into the warm, sticky afternoon, laughter fading behind us, and just a hint of relief in our steps. The end of a shift always felt like a small victory. A quiet moment to breathe before the next beautiful chaos.

The afternoon heat had begun to ease, and the street outside the dormitory buzzed faintly with motorbikes, distant conversations, and the occasional bark of a dog. I stood by the gate pretending to scroll through my phone, but I wasn’t really reading anything.

Another 7-Eleven delivery. My second in a week.

This time, I chose Cash on Delivery. Just to make it… longer.

I kept glancing at my phone every five minutes.

Order Status: Out for Delivery

The white motorbike came into view—same one as before. My heart jumped even before the engine cut off. There he was again: slightly messy hair tucked under his helmet, that familiar pair of glasses slipping a little down the bridge of his nose, the soft curve of his lips like he wasn’t sure if he should smile or not.

He got off the bike with his receipt in one hand, the bag in the other.

He looked around, then spotted me. “Delivery…?” he said in Thai.

I gave a tiny apologetic laugh. “No Thai…”

He paused. His face shifted—eyes blinking once, maybe flustered. But he quickly nodded and switched to broken English. “Ah, okay… cash payment. One… four… five baht.”

I pulled out the cash I’d prepared—carefully, earlier. “Here.”

He took it, then looked down at the coins in his hand. “Wait, wait… change…” He started counting the coins slowly. “Five… baht…”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I said gently. “Keep it.”

He blinked again. “Sure…? Okay…”

His voice was soft, and somehow still deep. There was something in the way he spoke—shy, careful, but warm. I couldn’t tell if it was the accent, or the fact that he didn’t say much, but every word felt… deliberate.

He handed me the bag. I took it with both hands, fingers brushing slightly against his. Maybe by accident. Maybe not.

“Thank you,” I said.

He nodded. “Thank you too…”

Our eyes met for a moment too long. His expression unreadable. Mine probably wasn't.

He turned back to his bike slowly, adjusting his helmet. I didn’t move until the engine started and he drove off, glancing once in his side mirror.

The bag felt light in my hands, but my chest felt full. I stood by the gate a few seconds longer, the heat clinging gently to my skin.

I knew I’d remember that tiny exchange. Again.

I’d probably order again tomorrow.