The Waitress

by Melissa Nathan

  So he was trying not to think about it.

  He stretched over to the phone again. There were only two more names on his list, and he’d already humiliated himself more than he could bear, but anything was better than the ultimate humiliation. He sat through the dialling tone with his eyes shut, hoping against hope that desperation wasn’t audible.

  As the tone continued, his mind wandered again. It was beginning to do that recently. He was finding it harder and harder to focus since…since when? He frowned hard. When had Paul told him he was backing out? Was it really only last night? It felt like weeks. He tuned into the dialling tone again.

  Ah well, at least this pointless exercise had reminded him of one thing. He knew exactly why he’d left the city. He could picture the dealing room now, the men’s vivid jackets making up for their sallow skins. He might be finding it tough trying to make sense of his new female colleagues’ emotional outbursts, but it was better than a testosterone-fuelled office. He was just about to throw the phone away when it clicked into action.

  “Charles Gordon?”

  “Charley!” cried Dan.

  There was a fraction of a pause during which Dan could hear the buzz of a frantic office in the background.

  “Dan. My man.”

  Dan’s heart sank. Charley had been warned.

  “Hi, how you doing?” he forced bonhomie into his voice.

  “Can’t complain, can’t complain.”

  “Good.”

  “What can I be doing for you?”

  “Well, it’s more what we could be doing for each other,” said Dan, hating himself.

  A pause. He could visualize Charley semaphoring to his mates over his computer that the sucker had got round to him.

  “I take it you’ve heard?” Dan couldn’t keep up the pretense.

  “I had heard something, yeah.”

  “We’re doing bloody well.”

  “Great.”

  “Profits are up.”

  Charley had the decency to give a wolf whistle.

  “But Paulie’s got other commitments.”

  “Yeah. I heard. Sad bastard.”

  “I’m not going to waste your time, Charley boy, I know you’re busy. Do you want in?”

  Charles gave a big sigh and Dan could see him leaning back on his chair. “I would mate, but as of last month, I’m investing all my spondulix in property. Just put a deposit on a flat by Tower Bridge.”

  “Oh great.”

  “Penthouse with views over the river. Hoping it will be my pension.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Of course if I get the sort of lucky break that that sneaky sod Paulie got, I’ll sell up like a shot. Don’t care if it means putting tenants out of a home.”

  Dan managed the requisite laugh.

  “Listen,” said Charley kindly, “why don’t you come down to the pub tonight? All the lads’ll be there, and the totty’s corking—there’s a massive new office next door and it’s crumpet city.”

  “Yeah, Mike said.”

  Charley let out a guffaw. “Ah yeah, Mikey the Man. He’s with a different one every night. It’s like live soap opera. Come on. Do you good.”

  “Nah, you’re all right.”

  “OK,” said Charley, relieved.

  “Right then.”

  “Listen, Dan.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Keep in touch.”

  “Yeah.”

  Dan heard the phone click off and sat with it in his hand for quite a while. He looked down at his pad. One more name. Then he watched his hand cross it out and start doodling over the pad.

  Maybe he should just go back to the bank. Better to beg a bank manager than his old mates, and with a healthy business forecast they might be only too happy to re-think the loan restriction. On the other hand, did he really want to be that much in debt at this stage of his life? He stopped himself from thinking about a looming wedding and wife. Should he remortgage his flat? Should he sell it?

  He looked round his beloved bachelor pad. How the hell had this happened? There he was only a few months ago, living the life of a carefree, solvent, single man, the world his oyster, dreams coming true left, right and center—and suddenly wham! Business, marriage and financial worries.

  He threw the phone back on to the sofa, almost hitting the coffee table, then put it in its cradle. He didn’t have the energy to speak to anyone any more. When the phone rang again, he put his hand over his eyes and listened to the answerphone click into action.

  Beep, click.

  “Hi Dan, it’s me. Katie. Um. I just found out you aren’t going to be in today and…um, well. I think we need to talk. Hope you’re OK. Bye then. Um.”

  Pause.

  Click.

  He stared at the silent answerphone, tension pulling his forehead so tight it felt as if his skull was too big for his skin.

  What the hell had that message meant? Her voice had been sort of urgent yet soft at the same time. He’d call her. He leapt over to the phone but as he did so it rang again. He froze.

  Beep, click.

  “Hi. I’m going into a meeting in half an hour. Call me.”

  Click.

  At the sound of Gerry’s voice he almost hopped backward. He needed to talk to Gerry like he needed a hole in the head. Actually a small hole might be just what his head needed. What did that message mean? Was she about to finish with him? Or bollock him again? Make him feel guilty yet again? Or change the habit of a lifetime and actually apologize? Wow. Now that would be worth picking up for.

  He supposed he really should speak to her. He was being an utter coward and she deserved more. Or did she? he asked himself as he played back the worst of their row. His hand wavered over the phone. When it rang again, he gave a little jump. He almost started looking for cameras. Could Gerry actually see him? He listened again. Maybe she’d give more clues this time.

  Beep, click.

  “Oh hi, it’s me again.”

  No, it wasn’t Gerry. It was her. The same urgency, the same softness. He listened.

  “Um. I think I forgot to say that it was Katie.”

  Pause.

  “Bye.”

  Click.

  He picked up but too late. She’d gone. He landed heavily on the sofa and looked at the phone in his hand willing it to ring again. When it did he started to feel spooky.

  Beep, click.

  “Where the hell are you?”

  Pause.

  “Daniel?”

  He shrank.

  “Are you screening?”

  He held his breath.

  “I think we both know we have to talk. I have the perfect solution. Call me before my meeting.”

  Click.

  The perfect solution to what, he thought. Nuclear disarmament? The Israel/Palestine situation? Eczema? Or was she going to suggest they postpone the wedding until both of them had dated everyone else in the world and proved there was no one else out there for them?

  When the phone went again, he prayed it would be Katie. This time he would pick up, he told himself. Yes this time he would talk to her. The answerphone cut in. He waited for her voice, flexing his phone hand in preparation.

  Beep, click.

  “Oh hello love, it’s Mum. I don’t want to trouble you but I just wanted to let you know that everyone keeps asking me if I have any idea about the date and where your list will be. I keep telling them I don’t know and that you’ll decide in your own good time, but I just thought you might like to know that they want to know. Because quite frankly they’re driving me mad. Dad sends love. Bye.”

  Click.

  He curled himself into a ball on the sofa. When the phone rang he waited patiently for the answerphone to cut in. This was turning into a modern art exhibit. Maybe he should send the tape to the Tate.

  Beep, click.

  “Right. I’ve got to go into my meeting. I really didn’t want to have to leave this message, but it looks like that’s what you want. So we’ll d
o it your way.

  Pause.

  “I’ve had a word with Paul.”

  Dan sat up.

  “I was going to ask him for contact numbers of some of your old pals—thought maybe they’d be able to help you out—but he had a much better idea. He said he’d put in a word with your old boss and he was fairly sure he’d take you back. Obviously not on the same salary, but, well, what do you expect? Daniel, I really don’t think you have a choice here.”

  Dan lost control of his lower jaw.

  “Anyway. Paul wants to meet me for lunch. Can’t see why, but no point pissing him off. So, I’m meeting him at one. Thought you might want to speak to me before I see him, but…clearly not.”

  Pause.

  “Right. I’m going into my meeting now, and then I’m going straight to meet Paul. If you want me I’ll be on my mobile. If I remember to leave it on.”

  Pause.

  Click.

  Dan fell back on the sofa. Was this her idea of helping him? Humiliating him with all his ex-colleagues? Why didn’t she just put an ad in the paper? She probably had. He must remember not to buy the Financial Times ever again. What the hell would she do next? Phone his parents? Tell his dad that he’d actually sobbed during their row? He sat bolt upright. Oh my God. This wasn’t help. This was revenge. Yes! She was punishing him for shouting at her. Or was it one further—was she finally finishing with him? He gasped. No! It was far worse than that. He realized once and for all that he was dealing with an evil genius. She was making it impossible for him to stay with her, but not actually finishing with him, so that when he was backed into a corner and so utterly humiliated that he was unable to do anything but finish with her—a shell of the man he once was—she could play the victim part again and tell everyone that she’d done everything in her power to help him—she’d even phoned Paul and begged on his behalf—and this was how he repaid her! Left her at the altar! She’d even bought the dress! Oh dear God, he could hear her telling this sob-story to all her friends. He hid his face in the cushion. Machiavelli could take lessons.

  Beep, click.

  “Hi again. Look I’m really sorry to be driving you mad at home, but there’s no answer from your mobile and I’d really like to…well, make contact with you sooner rather than later. So I just thought I’d give you my home phone number. Look, it is sort of urgent. I mean, not bad urgent. Just urgent. You’ll understand when we speak. So hopefully I’ll speak to you soon. OK. Well, I…”

  Pause. Sigh.

  “OK, sorry.”

  Click.

  He turned over and stared at the ceiling for a while, repeating that one in his head.

  Beep, click.

  “Hello love, Mum again. Your dad’s told me off for bothering you. I’m sorry sweetheart. He told me to phone you and leave another message telling you to ignore the last one. We both agreed that there’s no point rushing these things, especially when you’ve found someone as special as Geraldine. You two must take things at your own pace.”

  Pause.

  “Haven’t you got a lot of messages? It took ages to connect me. Anyway, hope all’s well and we both send you all our love. It’s your cousin Jonathon’s fortieth at the weekend. Bye love.”

  Click.

  He thought he might be sick.

  Beep, click.

  “All right mate? Just spoken to the lovely Geraldine. Don’t want you thinking I’m doing the dirty on you, so just letting you know we’re having lunch—all above board obviously. Hey-hey. No but listen mate, she’s really worried about you. Says you’re off sick this morning. Says she’s worried you might have a breakdown. And, well, I know you’ve been calling all the lads begging them for help with a sob-story. C’mon Dan for fuck’s sake call me. There’s no need for any of this. I’m sure we can sort something out. C’mon mate.”

  Pause.

  “Have a good wank and forget all about it. Hey-hey.”

  Click.

  Yes. It was definitely revenge.

  Beep, click.

  “I forgot to give you my home number! I can’t believe it! What a complete twat! You could probably sell these messages to some radio program. Ooh, that’s an idea. A sort of You’ve Been Framed for radio. Ooh I like it. Somebody must have thought of it already though, eh?”

  Pause.

  “Right. Anyway. My home phone number is 0208 555 7693 and I’m in all evening because the TV’s good.”

  Pause.

  “Well, um…I think I’ve been pithy enough.”

  Pause. Laughter.

  “Oh dear, you’ll miss me when I’m gone. Bye till next time.”

  Click.

  He closed his eyes. “You’ll miss me when I’m gone.” Was Katie going to leave him then? He’d just have to make sure she never got a chance to speak to him again. That way she could never hand in her notice, could she? Katie felt like a different world away. Like she was someone he’d once dreamed about.

  Beep, click. Sigh.

  “It’s Katie. I mean, it was Katie. That last message. The one giving you my home phone number and waffling. By the way, we’ve been coming up with some great party ideas. Nik’s especially worked up about his, and Patsy got so excited she almost swallowed her chewing gum. But it was OK, because Nik very gallantly offered to find it with his tongue. Aaaahh. So you see you’re missing loads here. Just thought you’d like to know you have a happy team who are looking forward to seeing you soon. Right. Well. Anyway. Um. Sorry to have kept pestering you. Hopefully speak to you tonight. Bye then. Bye.”

  Click.

  And then he felt a cold tear run down over his ear and on to the sofa cushion.

  Dan drove to the bank via the back roads so as to avoid passing the café. Geraldine and Paul would be having lunch together now, pretending not to delight in his downfall. After his phone had finally stopped ringing, he’d hauled himself up off the sofa, shaved, showered, dressed and eaten a slice of toast. It felt like a massive achievement.

  He didn’t get to see his bank manager. He wondered if they actually existed any more. What he did see was his small business advisor, a man safe in the knowledge that he had no financial worries because he still lived with his mum and bought his suits from Suits You. His aftershave was an affectation. They had a full and frank conversation, during which the man-boy told him fairly and squarely that they would need more security. Dan considered offering his kidney but didn’t have the heart to make a joke. Then he went home again, via the back roads. When he got home, he’d call the café and tell them he wasn’t going to be in again today. It was the least they deserved.

  Unbeknown to Dan, on his way home he passed Matt’s house and in fact drove past Matt standing outside it. Matt didn’t see him because Matt could barely breathe with fear. In fact he had never known terror like this. Everything up till now had been easy. Allowing his mates to spend time with his mother? Piece of cake. Permitting her to come to parents’ evening? Walk in the park. “A” Level exams? Child’s play.

  This, however, was the stuff of nightmares. This was probably the first time he had ever been truly scared.

  “Do I look OK?” asked Eva.

  “God yes,” whispered Matt. She looked amazing. She was wearing a sophisticated two-piece summer suit with strappy kitten mules, her hair pulled back, her lips enhanced by deep red lipstick. He was standing next to a schoolboy fantasy. He squeezed Eva’s hand as they heard his mum come to the front door. He didn’t know who he was squeezing it for, her, him or his mother. He decided it was all of them and squeezed again.

  The door opened and he stared in disbelief at his mother. He blinked. She grinned at them both. He blinked again. What the hell was her problem? Would Eva make a run for it or chuck him during lunch?

  “Hi!” she greeted them. She put her hand out to Eva and gave her a big smile. “You must be Eva. Welcome.”

  Eva handed her the flowers. “These are for you.”

  “Freesias! My favorite.” She took a big sniff and allowed them in
. Matt gave her a look. What was it with her? Did she want to ruin his life? As they followed her down the corridor into the kitchen, he mouthed the word “Sorry” to Eva. She frowned and then gave him a big grin. She was pretending not to even notice. What a star. He watched his mother flick on the kettle and get the mugs out.

  Her hair was in its usual ponytail, her jeans were the latest look and her bright pink T-shirt had glitter on it and little stars. It said “Motherfucker.”

  “Right,” grinned Motherfucker. “Who’d like a cup of tea?”

  Eva started giggling. She’d spotted the joke. “I love your T-shirt!”

  “Oh do you?” grinned Matt’s mum, joining in. “I’m so relieved. I thought it might break the ice a bit. Got it at the market. £2.50. Rude not to really.”

  Eva laughed loudly. “It’s brilliant!”

  “Excellent!” Matt’s mum held up the flowers. “Do you know how to ‘do’ flowers?” she asked. “You could do them while I make the tea.”

  “Oh yes,” Eva rushed forward.

  Sandra watched her trim the flowers and display them in the vase. Eva looked at her and stopped.

  “Is this right?” she asked.

  Matt’s mum nodded. “Are you sure you’re not overqualified to be going out with my son?” she asked seriously.

  Matt grinned as Eva burst into laughter. He decided now was the perfect time to leave and went to sit in the front room. Once on his own, he allowed himself a hearty chuckle. His mum was meeting his girlfriend. That’s right. His mum was meeting his girlfriend. His girlfriend was twenty-one years old. His girlfriend was twenty-one years old. He was not a virgin. He looked out through the faded net-curtains of the little bay window and listened to the hooting of laughter coming from the kitchen. He was a man. He could hardly wait to go to school tomorrow and tell his mates.

  Meanwhile, a few roads away, Hugh sat in the front room of his knocked through lounge-diner staring through the newly updated sash window with its Heal’s gauze curtains. He was surrounded by silence. He’d called in sick today and he really didn’t think he was lying. He knew he just wouldn’t have been able to go in another day and pretend everything was all right; joking with the lads, smiling at the bosses and concentrating in meetings. He just couldn’t do it any more. He felt like he was having a slow-motion panic attack. His body was in fright or flight mode all the time. It had started yesterday, after he’d got into work, and it had been there all day. There was some secret silent madness going on in his head too that no one else could hear. He thought it would be all right when he got home, but it got even worse when he was on his own. It stayed there all night. He couldn’t relax, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t even watch TV. He couldn’t do anything.