Watch, Wait, Take

Chapter 2. The late lunch-er

The bar has emptied out and no one is left waiting to be served. I stand-alone in the restaurant with only the late luncher left. I glance around the bar for something to do. I decide on sweeping by the bar at the back of the room away from the man but where I can still watch him closely.

"Excuse me, ma’am." the late diner utters at me with a smile.

"Yes? Is your food ok?" I reply, startled he spoke to me.

"Yes, it's lovely. I was just going to say that a gentleman came in a few minutes ago while you where in the kitchen and said to give you this."

He held out a white envelope. Nothing written on it. No name, nothing.

"Thanks" I smile at the late lunch-er as I take the envelope off him. I slip it into the pocket of my black apron to open after I finish my shift.

I finish brushing and turn to wipe the top of the bar. The late lunch-er stands to leave. I smile at him from across the room; he walks over and smiles at me.

"That was lovely. Thank you very much." 

He hands me a large tip and leaves. I am stood frozen to the spot in disbelief. A $100 tip! A large uncontrollable smile slithers on my lips. I bite the corner of my bottom lip in an attempt to suppress my happiness. I slip the tip into the pocket of my apron. I brush the envelope the man had given me and a chill goes up my spine. I mentally shake myself and clear up the last table. 

My shift is now over. Finally, I head home on the darkening street with my tips from the day and one month's wages in my bank by midnight. I am smiling like a crocodile as I climb the stairs to my apartment.

I open my fridge, exhausted by the day. Nothing but a shrivelled up carrot and wilted lettuce leaves stared helplessly back at me. I turned to the bread bin and found only mouldy bead. Sighing, I pick up the phone and order a delivery pizza. I earned it and I need to eat.

I pour myself a glass of red wine to have with the pizza and settle on the sofa with the TV on while I waited for my food.

I pour the bottle of wine again to finish off the last dregs. I decide to save it for my pizza. There is a knock at the door and I give a start. I'm not used to people knocking on my door. I open it to find a spotty teenager holding my pizza. I give him $20 and some extra as a tip. I crossed back to the sofa and tucked into a delicious pizza, washing it all down with red wine.

After polishing off the last bite of food and swigging the last few bits of wine with thirsty gulps, I feel satisfied, warm, happy, and safe. My eyes grow heavy and begin to close. I shut the TV off and stand, wobbling and dizzy for a moment. The wine had gone to my head. I'm not used to drinking any more. I put the rubbish in the bin and rub my eyes as I shuffle sleepily to the bedroom. Once ready for bed, I begin my bedtime ritual. Check all doors and windows, make sure all curtains are closed, double check the locks again, make sure all lights are off, and check the locks one last time on the way to the bedroom. I close all the doors and lock them, adding another barrier of safety. I climb into bed. The wine is in full effect now. Swamping my brain, dizzying my movements, and making my eyes feel extra heavy. An early night is just what I need. I turn my bedside lamp off and settle into bed. I close my eyes ready to drift into a rejuvenating sleep. I can hear the noises on the street of the partygoers and tourists just heading out on the town for the clubs to open. The street lamps in this part of town glow through the curtains just enough for me to see if I need to. A horn somewhere on the street blasted. A drunk crowd no doubt stepping out in front of a car on their way to the clubs, too excited to think about the possibility of getting run over. I feel myself becoming weightless and I drift into a sleep. The last thing I remember is the sound of an argument starting on the street.