It's difficult to find the way everything fits into place once it's broken, even if a surgeon gives you a pretty significant first push. Alexia's recovery is progressing with hope. Her knee is responding well to rehabilitation, but she doesn't feel...
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Mía's POV
"Table three."
I nodded at Maite's words and left the bar, grabbing a cloth. I walked quickly to the assigned table. A couple entered the establishment, looking for a place to sit. I cleaned quickly and gestured with my hand for them to take a seat.
Wednesday was our slowest night. We usually finished early when the bar emptied completely. And that possibility kept a smile on my face after a long shift filled with overtime hours.
It was 10 o'clock at night, and the bar where I worked was by no means the most well-known in Barcelona, nor the first one that would catch your attention. That was partly why I had decided to work there. I expected a relaxed atmosphere, without much rush, with good treatment...
I returned to the bar and leaned on it lazily. Maite would take their order. At this hour, it was only the two of us until closing time, so I took out my phone from my pocket and distracted myself a bit.
I liked a couple of photos on Instagram, read the news on Twitter. It seemed they would premiere a new edition of "Operación Triunfo." Finally. I couldn't wait to fill empty days with watching more than a dozen complete strangers eat.
"Pour a couple of beers, please. I'll take them over."
I looked up from my phone and grabbed a couple of glasses from the shelf. I let the foam flow from the tap and tilted the glass as I placed it under the beer stream. Once it was sufficiently filled, I took the other and let the liquid slide down the glass in the same way.
Then, the little bell on the door, which signaled new customers, rang, and I couldn't help but fix my eyes on the three girls wrapped in scarves who had just entered the bar.
The first one to take off her coat carefully dropped her blond hair over her back and turned towards the bar, connecting her bright eyes directly with mine. What?
"Mía!" Maite exclaimed.
I suddenly felt the coldness in my left hand, and foam spewed out of the glass, spreading everywhere.
"Shit, shit, shit."
"What the hell are you thinking?" she complained, not expecting an answer. I was still a bit disoriented. I knew the people who had just entered perfectly well. "Come on, I'll take care of it."
Aitana Bonmatí, Mapi León, and Alexia Putellas were sitting at one of the tables in the back of the bar where I worked. I tried to repeat it to myself a couple of times to accept that it was something that was happening right at that moment.
There weren't many people in the bar, yet they had decided to sit at the farthest table. If I wanted to get a picture with any of them, it was clear that I had to pretend to be incredibly calm and make it seem like I recognized them right at that moment. No, better yet. They seemed familiar, like I had seen them in a couple of matches or on television during midday sports. Yes, that was a better option.
I would approach without looking directly at them, checking something in the small notepad I carry to write down orders. Maybe I would flip through a few pages and sigh out of exhaustion. Then, I would raise my gaze just as one of them started speaking to order and furrow my brow as if trying to place their face among the many I know. Then, after that pause, all I had to do was...
"Hey, you're daydreaming," Maite placed the two glasses in front of me and wiped her hands on her apron. "Do something useful and take these.
'll take the order from the girls at the back."
I blinked a couple of times, snapping out of my state of deep concentration.
"What? No! Wait..." My voice died as my brain processed that she was already a few meters away from the bar.
I cursed all the insults I knew in every language I could speak a bit of. I took the two glasses and approached the table with an unfriendly expression.
"Two beers."
I turned around ready to leave when a male voice stopped me.
"Excuse me."
"Yes?"
"She would like to change her beer for a shandy," he commented confidently.
The brunette girl shook her curls, expressing agreement.
"But did you order a shandy?" I furrowed my brow and looked at her, confused.
"No, but she changed her mind," the male voice spoke behind me again.
I looked back at the table in the back and saw Maite coming back with some soft drinks and water. Another missed opportunity.
"Let's see, so you ordered a beer and now you want me to take it back because you suddenly feel like having something else on my way from the bar to here?"
"That's right," the guy replied again.
I ignored him.
"I can't go back and pour it out to bring you something else. You'll have to pay for both."
"She won't pay for something she hasn't consumed. You can drink it yourselves since we've paid for it."
For the first time, I looked directly into the eyes of the person who was answering me.
"I'm sure the girl is intelligent enough to answer me without an interpreter," I spat. The guy frowned visibly angry. "Or you pay for the shandy and the beer, or you'll have to drink it."
"I want to speak to your manager."
I looked him up and down. Gray tracksuit and Nike sneakers, no more than twenty-five years old. I sighed, incredulous. Maite appeared behind me, as if I had summoned her.
"Any problem?" she asked kindly with a saleswoman smile.
"Your waitress refused to change our drink and showed a complete lack of respect for the customer."
"What?" I complained.
"Mía, go do an inventory of the storeroom."
"But..." I replied, seeing the girls almost finishing their drinks.
