The rain was continuing unabated in all its violence. Raindrops covered every street he passed. He had tried to jump over many puddles along the way from the subway station at the stop where he got off, and many of these attempts had ended in failure. Just like his shoes, his trousers were soaked with water and covered in mud. Fortunately, the place where he was going to meet his friend was not far away. It was a restaurant at the end of the road.
He could not refuse this invitation from a friend he had not seen for a long time. His friend had called him at work and said that he hadn't seen him for a long time, that he missed him and that he wanted to sit down somewhere and talk to him if he was available. He had added that he needed to talk to her. Moreover, this friend's voice did not sound very pleasant on the phone. It was clear that he was in a troubled mood.
The crowd in front of the restaurant had caught Kimbel's attention. These men in uniform suits, all looking alike, probably couldn't find a seat in the restaurant. And they were probably standing on the sidewalk, waiting for the rain to stop. This was not a place where anyone could just walk in. You had to make a reservation before coming here. Anyone who came without a reservation would suffer the same fate as these men, unless there was an unreserved table. As he opened the door of the restaurant, the bell on the door began to jingle. It was too crowded inside to pick out the friend he had come to meet. As he stood in the doorway and looked around to see his friend, he called his friend's name to the waiter who came to ask if he had a reservation.
- Shavel. Shavel Polonet.
- Yes, Mr. Polonet. Table eight. I'll take your coat, sir, if you like.
- Yes, that would be fine, thank you.
The waiter took the coat Kimbel had taken off him and gestured in the direction they were going, palm open;
- Here you go, please. Follow me, he said.
This reserved table number eight was by the window and at the other end of the restaurant entrance. As he walked towards the table with the waiter, Kimbel had a question in his mind. He couldn't understand whether the waiter's "Yes, Mr. Polonet" meant him or whether he said that because he knew Shavel. Who knows, maybe Shavel was a well-known person in this restaurant and the waiter meant him. Still, he couldn't be sure. To find out,
- I don't think he's here. He asked, "Hasn't he arrived yet?
- No, sir, he hasn't arrived yet. Why don't you sit down and I'll get you something to drink before dinner, if you like.
Kimbel sat down at the table shown to him, looking a little angry, and you could see the anger in his eyes. It was clear that something was being said inside him, from his unintelligible grunts. He had arrived almost fifteen minutes later than the time they were supposed to meet and the person who had invited him here was still nowhere to be seen. This inevitably made him angry. On top of the fatigue of working all day at work, the fact that he was going to sit at this table all alone with nothing to do bothered him even more. If it weren't for the rainwater running down his trousers, maybe this situation would have been bearable. The waiter must have noticed Kimbel's boredom, because he intervened once more, as if to lighten the mood.
- Welcome back, sir. What do you drink? Especially our red wine is very popular with our customers, I can recommend it, or if you like...
- I'll have a water, thank you.
Kimbel cut the waiter's speech, in which he was going to offer other beverage alternatives, like a knife. And again, he did it in a way that made it clear he was angry. His brow was furrowed and his voice was higher than usual. The waiter nodded unresponsively and left the table to fetch water. Kimbel realized that his reaction was a bit exaggerated and regretted his harsh attitude towards the waiter who had nothing to do with the matter. However, the waiter should have understood that this reaction was not to him, but to the person who invited him here and made him wait at this table. Thinking this way, he relaxed a little. At a normal time he would not have been so angry and aggressive. In fact, he usually had a calm nature and these recent reactions were not at all in keeping with his personality. Undoubtedly, the stress of not having met his friend for a long time and getting caught in the rain outside had a big impact on his impulsive behavior.
YOU ARE READING
Parallax Restaurant
General FictionMy script basically consists of five main parts and a concluding part, and each part has its own name according to the subject of the story it contains. These five independent stories, which often have a social context, finally converge on a common...