Tales of a New York Waitress

by Samantha Garman

I sighed. “Stock is my version of Sisyphus rolling the boulder up the mountain.”

  “Amen. Kirk and I are going out for a drink after work,” Zeb said. “Wanna come?”

  “Thanks, but after all this, I’ll be ready to go home.”

  An hour later, I was walking to the subway. I sent a text to Aidan, asking if he wanted to come over after he finished closing the restaurant. I didn’t get a reply right away, so I hopped on the train. Whenever I really wanted to get home, the train creepy-crawled from 1st Avenue to Bedford Avenue, turning a fifteen-minute journey into a forty-five minute one.

  By the time I got above ground, I still didn’t have a response from Aidan. I got home, showered of the dirty martinis and crawled into bed. Still no response from Aidan, which was weird, but I made myself turn off my phone.

  That lasted about five minutes.

  My final shred of self-respect had gone the way of the Dodo as I fell asleep clutching my cell phone, waiting for a text from my non-boyfriend.

  I woke up the next morning to a text message from Aidan. It had come in around 2:30 AM saying he was going to spend the next few nights at his place.

  Aidan had not shown me an ounce of distance. Not since we’d taken our relationship from spooning to the dirty stuff. Now there was distance. I’d never experienced such distance in the form of a text message.

  Crap. I might’ve become a clinger.

  Annie came over for Sunday brunch, and as I got the fixings for the French toast, she pulled out ingredients for Bloody Marys. I’d once spent a Thanksgiving with Annie’s family when we were in college. They started their Thanksgiving with Bloody Marys in morning. I didn’t remember the rest of the day.

  I sipped cautiously as I flipped a piece of bread, jazz playing in the background on my Bose speaker.

  Annie said, “I have to tell you something.”

  “You’re not engaged, are you?”

  “What? God, no!”

  “Pregnant?”

  “Nope.”

  “Whew. I don’t think I could take any more upheavals. Tell me what’s up.”

  “I saw Aidan last night.”

  “Okay.”

  “He was out at one of my favorite bars. And I saw him with a girl. They were laughing and clearly having a good time.”

  The spiciness of the Bloody Mary began to surge back up into my throat. I choked down the horseradish, gripping my spatula, all the while trying to maintain my calm.

  But calm and I didn’t have a good relationship.

  “We’re casual,” I said, striving to be rational. I paused a long while.

  “Sibby—”

  “What?”

  “The French toast is burning.”

  “Shit!” Smoke began to fill the kitchen and after a moment the smoke alarm went off. Annie dashed to the window and propped it open. I turned off the stove and began to fan a dishtowel near the smoke alarm.

  “Were you with Caleb?” I asked once the smoke alarm silenced.

  “No. I was with a friend from culinary school.”

  “Did you ask Caleb about it?”

  “No. Bros before hos.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.” Against my better judgment, I downed the spicy Bloody Mary in a few gulps.

  “Another?” Annie asked, already heading for the supplies.

  “Keep them coming.”

  “You have blackberry jam on your face.”

  “Saving it for later,” I muttered, reaching for a napkin. “Did I get it?”

  She shook her head, took my napkin, and dabbed at my mouth.

  “God, I really can’t do day drinking anymore.” I sat up, putting a hand to my head. “All men are couch canoes.”

  “I think you mean ‘douche canoes’. And not all of them suck,” Annie said.

  “Yeah, I don’t believe that. First, I get Matt, who was so far in the closet he was finding Christmas presents, and now I get Aidan with his cheating. I’d never cheat on a guy!”

  “He’s not technically cheating…”

  “It feels like cheating.” I buried my head in my hands.

  “Maybe he’s not with her…”

  “What other explanation is there?” I asked.

  “Okay, I’ll admit between our track records, we jump to conclusions.”

  “The other night I asked if he wanted to come over after work and he said he’d be sleeping at his place for a few days.”

  “I’ll text Caleb.”

  “No, don’t. I’m not going to be that girl.”

  “What girl is that?”

  “The insecure girl who wants to know what her casual hook-up is doing. God, I’m so stupid. I should be the girl who focuses on her career. But I don’t have one of those.”

  “I still think you should write a romance novel.”

  “I’m gonna try,” I vowed.

  “Really?”

  I nodded and then slumped over in my chair, my head resting on the kitchen table.

  “I think we should start drinking water,” Annie said, getting up.

  “Yes. And you know what? I’m going on a cleanse.”

  “Does that mean we have to stop drinking?”

  “Not that kind of cleanse. I mean a life and man cleanse. I need to get rid of everything that sucks. If I have any chance of getting my self-worth back, I need to focus on me and not guys. Especially not guys who have superhero moves in bed.” I got up and wobbled my way to the living room, collapsing onto the couch.

  “Superhero?” Annie asked from the kitchen. I heard her filling a glass of water and she came back, plopping down on the floor. She took a drink and then handed it to me.

  “Thanks. Yeah, superhero. Aidan deserves a cape.”

  God, he’d look good in a cape. And spandex. No! The guy was slime!

  “How the hell am I supposed to work with him? Gah! I knew I shouldn’t have slept where I ate!”

  “I think you meant ‘shit where you eat’,” Annie corrected. “But yeah, the end result is the same.”

  I was an ostrich style head-in-the-sand sort of person. My relationship with Matt had been full of red flags by the time he’d cheated on me. I had also ignored the fact that my office job had been giving me fewer and fewer projects. Deep down, I knew I was a reactive person—not a proactive one.

  But no more.

  I was done being the girl things happened to. Aidan had gone silent commando for three days and been seen with another girl, and that only reminded me I needed to get my crap together. Focus, focus, focus.

  Usually, I wore stud earrings and next to no makeup at work. I would just have to shower it off later. But I wanted to give Aidan a good old ‘screw you’, so I wore dangly silver fork charm earrings, mascara, blush, and lipstick. And even though I’d have to change into my unflattering boxy, server uniform, I wore cute jeans that showed off my butt.

  I put in my ear buds and played Eye of the Tiger on repeat while I rode the train to work. I could do this!

  And then I walked into Antonio’s.

  Damn the guy. Aidan looked hot in dress pants and a button down. The fact that I hadn’t seen or heard from him for three days only made me want him more. Wanting what you couldn’t have was so true. Only I’d had Aidan, and it wasn’t enough. I wanted to devour him. All of him in his newly clean-shaven hotness.

  “Hi,” I chirped as I came in through the front door.

  He looked at me curiously. “Hi. You’re in a good mood. You okay?”

  “What, I’m not allowed to be in a good mood when I come to work?”

  “I guess…just…you sure you’re okay? You look a little flushed.”

  “I’m peachy!”

  I sauntered downstairs, making sure to put an extra jaunt in my step. I changed into work clothes and then made my way back upstairs and settled in for the pre-setup staff meeting. I smiled to myself when I saw Aidan couldn’t take his eyes off of me. It would be a long night—for him.

  “I want a red wine with little to no ta
nnins. What do you suggest?” the woman asked.

  “Pinot Grigio,” I said flatly.

  Her date snorted into his glass of water and then set it down to reach for his napkin. The woman didn’t find me funny.

  “I’’ll bring you a taste of something and you can tell me if you like it.”

  After the woman was happily enjoying the Grenache I’d suggested, Aidan came up to me and asked, “Hey, do you have a second?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I want to talk to you about the schedule,” he stated, though his eyes said that was a cover for what he really wanted to discuss.

  I told Zeb to watch my section and then I followed Aidan downstairs. We went into the office and he closed the door to give us privacy. I raised an eyebrow. “Won’t people wonder what we’re doing down here with a closed office door?”

  He shrugged. “So we’ll tell them you had a problem with a co-worker.”

  “But I don’t have a problem with any of my co-workers. I get along with everyone. Even Katrina.”

  “What about me?” he demanded. “You have a problem—with me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re not acting like yourself.”

  “And that would be…”

  “You’re wearing makeup,” he pointed out. “And you straightened your hair. And you wore really tight jeans. Like, second skin type. I’ve hung out with you enough to know you hate second skin clothes.”

  “Aidan, can you please get to the point? I have a full section upstairs.”

  “Annie saw me with another girl. She got drunk and told Caleb.”

  “Aidan, don’t—”

  “The girl is my sister.”

  “I just… What?”

  “Sister. She lives in California. She flies out randomly to visit me. The reason I didn’t come to your apartment after work the other night was because she was waiting for me.”

  I smacked his upper arm. “You couldn’t tell me that? You had to let me wonder for three days why I didn’t see you?”

  “But don’t people only explain themselves to each other when they’re in a relationship? Did I really owe you an explanation?”

  I sighed. “I see your point.”

  “And what about you? You couldn’t just come out and ask me about the other girl?”

  “So, she’s really your sister? You weren’t drinking, cavorting, and hooking up with buxom blondes?”

  “I’m not into blondes.”

  “No?”

  “I’m into walking disaster brunettes.”

  I didn’t smile at his teasing tone. I took a deep breath and said, “You ever want out, you tell me.”

  “I don’t want out.”

  “Not right now you don’t. Just, in the future. I can’t handle another Matt situation.”

  “Okay,” he said with a nod. “Same goes for you.”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  “I’m sorry, Sibby. I didn’t mean to make you—doubt me. I should have realized after Matt that you would—well, anyway. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” I said sincerely.

  “We good?”

  “We’re good.”

  “So tonight? After work, can I come over?”

  I grinned and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Tease.”

  I laughed. “I’ll see you after work.” I got up, needing to head back to the floor and my tables. I ran up the stairs and opened the door to the dining room, then came to an abrupt halt. Aidan knocked into my back and I almost went flying.

  “Oops, sorry. You okay?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer. My heart began to beat like I’d taken speed. My eyes widened and my palms got gross and clammy.

  No.

  Matt was sitting across the table from the man he had cheated on me with. They were on a date, like in public, for real.

  That was the thing about New York. Millions of people, and you always saw the one you didn’t want to see.

  “Sibby? What’s wrong? You haven’t moved.”

  I didn’t reply as I scurried towards the kitchen, wanting to hide, wanting to be able to pretend I’d never seen him.

  System overload.

  As I approached the heavy wood door of the kitchen, a busser was on his way out with a full tray of glasses. I pushed in as he pushed out; he had more power and the door swung back—colliding with my nose. There was a solid snap of cartilage and a spray of blood. I went down hard.

  Man, I really hoped I didn’t need plastic surgery.

  Chapter 13

  Sambuca [sam-boo-ka]:

  1. An Italian aniseed-flavored liqueur.

  2. Tastes like licorice. It’s disgusting.

  I was on the floor on my back, feeling like a rookie boxer who’d lost an important match.

  “Sibby? Sibby can you hear me?” Aidan demanded.

  “My nose…” I wheezed, tears streaming from my eyes.

  Aidan cursed. The commotion around me barely penetrated my shocked senses. He scooped me off the floor and held me against his chest. Someone handed me a rag so I could stem the flow of blood.

  “Don’t let Matt see,” I whispered, attempting to shield my face as Aidan carried me through the dining room.

  “Matt?” Aidan asked. “Your ex?”

  I pointed in Matt’s general direction.

  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t see you.” Aidan called out for someone to get me a bag of ice. My nose throbbed in protest, but I kept the ice to my face, vaguely wondering how bad the swelling was going to be, and vowing that I wouldn’t look in a mirror for at least a week.

  “You’re really lucky,” Aidan said. “I don’t think your nose needs surgery, but I’m taking you to the hospital to be safe.”

  “You don’t have—”

  “Yes, I do.”

  We got into a cab out in front of Antonio’s, and Aidan held my hand on the drive to Beth Israel. We waited in silence for over an hour for the doctor to see me. Pretty fast considering it was New York City. The doctor on call checked out my face, told me not to blow my nose no matter what I did, and gave me a heavy-duty painkiller. He exchanged my melted bag of ice for an ice pack, and then handed me a prescription for high-end pain meds.

  “You’re lucky you don’t need plastic surgery. Your nose is still straight and the skin didn’t split. It’s more of a fracture, really,” he said. “Just ice it and take the pain killers sparingly. They will knock you out, so be careful to only take them as prescribed, okay?”

  “Thanks,” I muttered.

  Aidan guided me outside and hailed a cab. The ride back to Brooklyn took about twenty minutes, and by then, the horse tranquilizer I’d popped at the hospital was having its way with me. We hit a twenty-four hour pharmacy and got my prescription filled.

  “Is my neck still attached to my head?” I asked Aidan when we were climbing the stairs to my apartment.

  “You mean is your head still attached to your neck? Yes.”

  “My tongue feels fuzzy,” I said.

  “They gave you some heavy duty pain meds and you’re a light weight.” He took my keys from me and unlocked my door.

  “Who’s that character in Charlie Brown with the black cloud that follows him around wherever he goes?” I asked.

  “I have no idea,” Aidan said.

  “This is just great,” I muttered as Aidan maneuvered me onto the couch. “I had the perfect nose, you know? Small and dainty. No doctor’s scalpel has ever touched it. Unheard of in the Goldstein family.”

  “Yes, your nose belongs on a Roman coin,” Aidan agreed. Perhaps he was humoring me. I didn’t care. I was too high and too miserable to care.

  “This has to be it, right? How much more crap am I supposed to deal with? I mean, my life is a slapstick comedy. One of those plays where people come and go, slamming doors, and by the end, your stomach hurts from all the laughing?”

  “I think you mean a farce.”

  “Farce, yes.”

  After Aid
an set me on the couch, he headed to the kitchen, opened the freezer, pulled out a bag of frozen peas and brought it to me.

  “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

  “It’s for your nose.”

  “Oh, right. Do we have ice cream?”

  “Yes.”

  I winced as I changed the ice pack while he retrieved the ice cream. He sat down next to me. “I’ll feed it to you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I want to.”

  “Okay. I want you to.”

  “That’s the drug talking.”

  “Maybe. Why does Matt keep popping up like a whack-a-mole? Is this the universe’s way of telling me to deal with crap? By shoving my gay ex-boyfriend in my face every five minutes?”

  “Eat this.” He spooned ice cream into my mouth. It was awkward.

  I felt like I could pass out where I sat in the soiled bloody restaurant clothes I still wore. “You’re really nice. Except for the last three days. You were a butt. Staying away.”

  “Have you ever liked someone more than they liked you?”

  “Uhm, pretty much every guy I’ve ever dated.”

  “I don’t believe that.” Aidan took a bite of ice cream.

  “We’re sharing the same spoon,” I sighed.

  High as a mother-effing kite.

  “That okay?”

  “Okay? It’s perfect.” My eyes started to close. “I need to Feng Shui my life.”

  I might’ve kept on muttering, but I had no idea since I fell into a deep, drugged, unconscious sleep. When I awoke, it was sometime in the middle of the night and I was still on the couch, propped up. I was still breathing through my mouth and my nose throbbed.

  Great. Creepy mouthbreather.

  Aidan was asleep in the chair next to the couch. He’d discarded his button down shirt and slacks, but he’d left his socks and boxers on. On the coffee table, I saw two of my prescription pills next to a full glass of water.

  Aidan had set them out for me. The sweetheart.

  “Awwww,” I whispered, picking up the pills and swallowing them down with water. Wanting to see the damage to my face, I crept into the bathroom and flipped on the light.

  To say it was bad was a drastic understatement. Not only was my nose swollen and red, but both of my eyes were black. I looked like Mexican skull art.