Quiet Enlightenment

Part 3, Chapter 1 - The New Waiter

Sunday, July 30, 2017

Just like flesh, people's thoughts and memories can be injured. And just like flesh, they can leave a scar when they heal. For the people of a small town in Oregon, the names Elias Conner and Butch Elliott/Conner were just blurbs that occupied the news for a week before the people forgot and continued like nothing happened before.

For certain individuals, the memories and the scar lasted much longer and although a year and a half has passed, some of them were still healing.

"Crap, crap, CRAP!"

A fifteen-year-old boy dressed in a nice shirt found himself dashing down Panther street. He pulled out his smartphone and picked up his pace when he saw that there was less than a minute from the start of his shift. As he approached his place of employment, he hoped that the two satisfied patrons that were leaving the premises didn't see him as he pivoted down the alleyway and to the service door. He felt relieved as he closed the door quietly and went to the timeclock in hopes that the manager on duty wouldn't see notice the fact that he was clocking two minutes late.

"Beep!"

"Cameron, you're late!"

"CRAP!" Cameron said quietly to himself as he replied "Sorry!"

Before he could give his boss a chance to reprimand him, he grabbed an apron and tied it on as he walked out to the dining room to take orders.

"Good afternoon!" he cheerfully said as he greeted an older couple that found a seat at their usual booth in front of the window. They were regulars and they could be found at the exact same booth in front of the exact same window at roughly the same time every Friday afternoon.

"Boy, have you been smoking? You smell like smoke!" the old man said as Cameron found himself nervously scratching his head. He wouldn't be wrong as the reason why the teenager was indeed late because he was casually having a smoke while he was walking to work and lost track of time.

"Now, dear. Be nice!" the old lady added as she playfully smacked her husband.

"See what she does to me! When you get to be my age, you earn the right to smoke because you have to live with a ball and chain like this!"

"What do you mean by that?!"

Cameron couldn't help but give a small laugh. He could only hope that he would be just like that old man and have a wonderful person to go with him during his sunset years.

"It'll be the usual for me." The old lady said with a wink. Cameron nodded and scribbled something down on his notepad.

"I'll have the eggs. On a pizza. With pineapple and anchovies. Yes."

"Don't be stupid, dear. He'll have the usual, too."

Cameron gave a bigger laugh as he wrote down something entirely different on the pad. He could've been entirely tuned out and still get everything correct as this was the Sunday afternoon routine.

"The gomers want their usual crap!" Cameron called out to the kitchen as he walked into the back. The cook smiled and nodded and began on the order. After ripping the order off his notepad, he ripped the page off the notepad and chucked it behind him with the hope that it would land in the trash can. When he didn't hear the rustle of the can liner, he sighed and turned around to see the manager standing there with the wadded-up order in his hand.

"Cameron, care to step into my office for a second?"

Cameron nodded and followed him into the back office. The cook looked at the dishwasher and said "Yeah, we know that he's going to get away with whatever he's done. He always does."