“And you’ll start next Saturday on your own.”
Anxiety has my heart kicking up a notch. On my own after two days? He must be crazy.
Henry pats my shoulder. “You’ll be fine.” He must have seen the panic on my face.
“I can do this,” I mutter under my breath. More for my reassurance than his.
“Yes, you can.” He didn’t need to respond, but his confidence in me is comforting.
Standing from the bench, I extend my hand to him. “I’ll see you on Sunday, boss.”
Henry covers my hand with his, warmth spreading up my arm. If I were braver, I’d say a tingle of excitement ran through my blood at the same time. But I’m not, so I’ll ignore the slight pulse in my arm as he keeps our contact light.
Samantha clears her throat behind Henry, causing him to turn around.
“Sorry, but Ken just had five tickets come up at the same time, all four to five tops.”
Henry gives me a sympathetic smile. “Gotta go. I’m glad you’ll be working here.” With one last glance, he turns and heads back to the kitchen.
“Welcome to the team,” Samantha says. “You’ll love it here. Henry’s a great boss. Always helpful and takes really good care of his employees.” A flush creeps up her neck and cheeks. Is there more to this I’m not aware of? Just how good of care does he take?
Not that it matters. I’m not in a position to care, considering the small gold band on my finger weighs me down.
Just because I can’t touch, doesn’t mean I can’t look and dream. And there’s nothing sexier than kindness and compassion.
This is nothing like I thought it would be. I know he said Sundays are slower days, but his definition of slow and mine differ. Ashley and I haven’t stopped moving since I got here two hours ago. Tables come in left and right, all with at least four people. I’ve watched waitresses numerous times and always thought they were calm and collected.
I know better now.
So much goes into taking multiple tables, juggling orders, making sure the plates come out exactly as the customer ordered. Throw in drinks and I’m on overload. Who can remember to come back to a table and refill their water all the time?
A lull finally hits and I lean against the counter in the kitchen. “That was insane.”
Ashley laughs. “Not really, but for a newbie, I can see how it’s intimidating.”
I run a hand over my face. “Intimidating doesn’t even cover it. Is it always like this?”
“Sometimes. It’s hit or miss on Sundays. Fridays and Saturdays are our busiest nights of the week. All kind of depends on what’s going on.”
And Henry wants me to start on a Saturday? Is he crazy?
Fear must take over my face because Ashley laughs. “You’ll do fine. I’ve been watching you and you’ve picked up little things on the last couple tables. You’re asking great questions and even navigating the computer system well.”
“That part is easy,” I say with a smile. “I work with computers all day long in my other job. Those I can handle. It’s trays and plates and water glasses and cocktails.” Speaking of, I could use a large one right about now.
“Trust me, you’re doing fine.” She glances up at the clock. “Stacy wanted me to let you go around eight, so why don’t you clock out and head home. You’re in on Tuesday again, right?”
I nod. “Around six so I can get my kids after school.”
“Perfect. I think Lauren and Luke will be here then because it’s Henry’s week with the kids.” Ashley shoos me away. “Go home, rest up. Your feet are going to be sore.” She gives me a wicked smile and disappears toward the dining room.
Bitch. No, I take it back. Ashley’s not a bitch, but I can hate her for a few minutes as I stretch my legs.
The drive home is long and I can’t help but wonder what I’ll walk into. Will Mike be grumpy and judgmental or will everything be fine? I can’t remember leaving the kids with him for this long. Or ever. I’ve always been the one to be with them, take care of them, and make sure their life is as easy as possible, especially when Mike started drinking heavier over the years.
Silence greets me when I walk through the kitchen door. No messy dishes in the sink or funky odor. In fact, the dishwasher is running. I do a double-take and even consider walking back out to make sure I’m in the right house.
Mike’s usual TV show blares from the living room. I set my purse down on the counter and investigate the noise. He’s sitting in his recliner, drinking a beer and eating from a bag of chips. He turns his head as I walk closer.
“How was work?” He’s being incredibly nice. I’m instantly on alert.
“Busy, but good.”
“Make any money?”
I shake my head. “While I’m training I won’t make tips. Just my hourly wage.”
He takes a sip from his beer. “Kinda pointless, isn’t it?”
“Not really. They can’t throw me on the floor without me knowing what to do. Then I’d never get tips.”
“When are you going to make some actual money?” His voice oozes displeasure. I shrink down from the high I was on.
“I’m on the floor by myself Saturday. And it should be busy so I’ll probably make some money.”
“Good, I’ll need some extra cash for the week.”
Anger slowly simmers under my skin. “No, this is to pay for my car. That’s what we agreed. I would get another job so we didn’t have to pay for the repairs out of our pocket.”
“Use your paychecks to do that. Cash is communal.”
“No, it’s not. I’m not busting my ass so you can spend my hard-earned money. I’m paying off the car bill first. Then we’ll have extra money.”
The can crunches in his hand. “Are you talking back to me?”
My resolve falters. “N-no.”
Mike leers at me, anger dancing in his eyes. “Good, because I’m not in the mood for any crap tonight from you. It’s been a shit day, the kids wouldn’t leave me alone with all their incessant questions, and all I want to do is watch TV and drink my beer.” Walking over to the fridge, he grabs another two cans and reclaims his seat, cutting off our conversation and dismissing me.
I stand there for several minutes, still trying to figure out what his problem is. Without another word, I turn and walk to our bathroom. Once the door is shut, I lean my hands against the counter and stare at my reflection. Tears stream down my cheeks.
Weak. That’s what I am. A stronger woman wouldn’t let her husband talk to her this way. She would stand up for herself, let him know it’s a partnership and not a one-person show.
But that’s what we’ve become. I do everything for our family while he reaps the benefits.
I’m not sure if I’d consider what we just had a fight, but our arguments are becoming more regular. Something’s wrong, but I don’t know how to change things. Would it be okay if I left? Or would he come after me and make things worse? I don’t think he’d ever hit me. Push me out of the way to get my attention? Yes. Never anything that’s left a mark. Intimidation is more his style. I can count on one hand how many times he’s threatened to leave me and take the kids if I didn’t bend to his will. I’m just thankful the kids have never actually witnessed anything between us.
The kids.
Shit.
Blotchy marks cover my face as I furiously wipe the tears away. The kids can’t see me this way. Taking a few deep breaths, I open my clay mask and start applying the gooey green substance all over my face. It serves a dual purpose: hiding the evidence of my tears while getting the grease of the restaurant off my face.
When I can’t see any more skin, I unbutton my work shirt and slip into my fuzzy robe. I debate for a moment to take my hair out of the ponytail and transfer it to a messy bun. Once my hair falls around my shoulders, my scalp aches from being confined for so long. Not that it has time to complain as I twirl my hair and pile it on top of my head.
I tiptoe past the living room, where Mike is still engr
ossed in whatever program he’s watching. When I walk down the basement stairs, I find my two little darlings still playing Super Mario Cart on the Wii, completely oblivious to our tiff upstairs.
Good.
“Jacob, Cassie, time for bed.” They collectively groan, but shut off the game and pick up the blankets they were huddled under.
“How was work?” Jacob asks.
Cassie pauses in front of me. “Why are you wearing that?” she asks, pointing to my face.
“Work was good. Lots of greasy food so I needed to make sure I get it all off my skin. Don’t want to get any pimples and look like Rudolph.”
“But you like it?” Jacob yawns as we head upstairs.
I nod behind them, not that they can see me. “I think so. It’s something different. And you know how much I like that.”
Once we reach the living room, I stay back and keep a careful eye on them as they hug their dad and wish him goodnight. He kisses their heads and sends them away. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde if I’ve ever seen it.
After washing the mask off, I put on my flannel pajamas and crawl into bed. Safe. Comfortable. Away from him.
I’m almost asleep when my phone pings next to me on the table. Reaching over, I can’t help the smile as it curls my lips up.
Henry: How was your first day?
Me: Good. You lied. It was busy.
Henry: Haha, oops. I never know what it’ll do. I also don’t work Sundays so don’t believe everything I say.
Me: Now you tell me.
Henry: Still coming Tuesday?
Me: I’ll be there.
Henry: Can’t wait.
Can’t wait? He must be delirious. It’s just another training day, not to mention I’ll have the kids with me. His response doesn’t warrant a reply, so I lock my phone after making sure the alarm is set and fall asleep.
“Joss? You okay?” Brenda asks as soon as I walk in.
With a yawn, I force a smile. “Just a little tired is all.” Tired is an understatement. My morning couldn’t have gone worse. It was the Monday-est Tuesday morning I’ve ever had. First, I woke up from a nightmare that had my heart racing. As if that wasn’t enough, I got kicked out of bed at three a.m. because Mike was snoring so loud. I’m surprised the walls didn’t shake from the level of noise emanating from his mouth.
Then, to top it all off, I tripped over the coffee table and landed face first into the corner. When I finally dragged myself off the couch, a lovely bruise graced my complexion, along with some severe dark circles and bags. Luckily, the foundation I use conceals practically everything, including Sharpies, or so the YouTube videos show. I didn’t know a bruise could turn purple so fast. Probably a good thing most the darker shades fell into the natural dip of my cheekbones. Worse comes to worse, I can play it off as contouring gone wrong.
“You better grab an extra cup of coffee because the system rejected a bunch of claims last night and you know what that means.”
I sigh. “Provider calls. Wonderful. I thought everything bad was supposed to happen on Mondays?”
Brenda laughs. “In a perfect world.” She slips her headset on as her phone lights up.
Looking down, I organize my desk quickly before doing the same. And as predicted, the providers start calling left and right, wondering why everything came back rejected last night.
I think I’d rather do the overtime claims Mr. Davenport had for me over the weekend. The benefit? Providers don’t call on the weekends. The only positive is all the calls make time speed up. Before I know it, it’s lunchtime. Brenda skips out, as usual, meeting her boyfriend outside so he can take her away.
My lunch date isn’t nearly as attractive. Another salad, but to jazz it up, I threw in some sliced lunch meat. Fancy. Nowhere close to the burger from last week, but salads will always lose that battle.
I poke around on my phone, catching up on the latest Buzzfeed quiz before Mike’s name flashes across the screen.
“Hello?”
“You’re working tonight?” No greeting, no pleasantries. Just a tone that says I’m annoying him, even though he’s the one who called me.
“Yes, after I pick the kids up from basketball and drama.”
“The guys are all getting together after work to watch the game. It’ll probably be a late night.”
What else is new? Every night is a late night. At this point, he might as well stop telling me that because I’m just expecting them. “Okay, the kids will hang out with me until I’m done at work.”
“Still training?” Either he doesn’t listen to me or he has the memory retention of an elephant.
“Yep.” It’s hard to keep the exasperation out of my voice at this point.
“Yes,” he hisses.
“Sorry, yes.”
“You know I hate that.” I close my eyes and silently count to ten. “When are you going to start making actual money?”
“I told you, Saturday is my first non-training shift.”
There’s a pause on the line. “You sassing me?”
“N-no.” I gulp. “I-I just wanted to remind you that my first non-training shift i-is Saturday.”
Mike grumbles into the phone. “Whatever.” A horn honks in the background. “Gotta get back to work.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later,” I say, my voice barely audible.
He doesn’t reply because he’s already ended the call. I stare at the phone in my hands, trying to process what the point of his call was, other than to drag me down further.
Most women wouldn’t put up with this. They’d leave his sorry ass and take the kids far away. Or hire a good lawyer and get custody.
Fear keeps me in check. If I leave him, what would he do? Would he sue me for full custody of the kids? I can’t lose my kids. Even the thought of not seeing them every day is enough to skyrocket my anxiety into space.
I stab at my salad again, all hunger lost. It’s no wonder my clothes don’t fit me right anymore. Over the past few months, I’ve barely eaten anything of substance. I’m the last to eat at home because Mike says it’s the woman’s place to eat after the men. That’s what his co-worker, John, told him. Men come before women. It’s a new doctrine he’s trying. I know I was worried about not being able to workout as much anymore. With this new diet, I don’t have to worry about that. Somehow the kids don’t notice. Or if they do, they don’t say anything.
Trapped. I’m a mouse in a laboratory running through the maze and hitting every dead end I can find. There’s no exit, no cheese at the end. Nothing but walls all around me. And like the mouse, I know my fate.
“Okay, kids, stay in here with Lauren and Luke. Make sure you get your homework done before any games are played.”
They both agree and open their books. This is probably the quickest Jacob and Cassie ever agreed to do their work. Lauren and Luke, Henry’s kids, do the same. Lauren is in the same grade as Cassie and Luke is two grades under them.
Once I’m satisfied, I head back to the server area where Stacy is waiting for me.
“Ashley told me you did well on Sunday. Think you can take a table on your own?”
I widen my eyes in surprise. “Are you serious?”
Stacy smiles. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Lucky for me, there are only four tables right now, all with only two people. Low stress. Easy.
That’s what I’m telling myself.
The notepad shakes in my hand as I approach the table. The couple smiles warmly at me from their menus. It doesn’t stop my knees from shaking or my heart from beating so fast I think it’s visible to anyone who’s looking.
“Welcome to Lakeside Grill. My name’s Jocelyn. Is there anything I can start you off to drink with other than water?”
“Um, I’ll have a tea,” the gentleman says.
“Do you have a white zin?” the lady asks.
I look to Stacy, who’s standing behind me. She nods. “Yes, we do.”
“Perfect,” the lady says. “I’ll have a
glass of that.”
I write down the order in my notepad and thank them before walking away. When we reach the server station, Stacy places a hand on my shoulder.
“Relax. You’ll do fine. I’m going to help those other tables. When they’re ready to order, I’ll swing by to help.”
She leaves me alone to fill the drink orders at the bar with Troy, the bartender.
“First night?” he asks while pouring the drinks.
I shake my head. “Second, but first table alone.”
His warm smile eases my tension a bit. “I can tell. You’re doing fine. Try not to spill these on your way over, though. Your hands are shaking so bad I’m afraid to even hand them to you.”
I wring my hands, trying to stop the nerves from wracking my body. Closing my eyes, I blow out a quick breath. Within seconds, I start to feel better. I take the glasses from Troy and give him a smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
He taps the bar twice before returning to his liquor stocking project. I’m surprised when I manage to make it across the floor without spilling. The couple smiles and rattles off their order, which I only had to glance at the menu once to verify I didn’t miss anything. Stacy makes it back in time to watch me enter their food into the computer. She was right. The system is very straightforward and easy to navigate.
Walking back to the kitchen, I start prepping their salads and setting up their bread basket. As I’m slicing the bread, a tingle runs down my spine.
“How’s it going?” Henry stands next to me, crossing his arms over his chest.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m already nervous or because of his closeness, but my heart jumps and proceeds to thump irregularly in my chest.
When I turn my head, Henry smiles and taps his toe against my shoe. A simple gesture, playful and nice. Almost like he’s toying with me. Or flirting. But that can’t be right. He wouldn’t flirt with me.
“Good, I think. Stacy gave me a table of my own and I’m trying not to screw it up.”
He nods. “I saw your name on the ticket. Exciting stuff.”
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