Perfection

45 Days Before, 455 Days Until

Sam

"Buenos días, Sam."

"If it were a good morning, my five-year-old wouldn't be sick at home."

"Why didn't you call in?" Manuel asked as he began to clean some dishes. "I would've understood."

"Because I need the money. If I can give Riley a good life even though I get by doing this, then I'll do it. Besides, I called in sick at the coffee shop down the road."

"Ah, so you do enjoy working here, no?"

"I enjoy it." I smiled.

"I'm waiting for the day you're rich and don't have to ask me for an extra shift."

"It's not easy for a social outcast to get a good job, Manuel."

"You are not a social outcast. Don't say that."

"I'm not from Spain, one of my neighbors doesn't speak English, and the one on the other side of me barely speaks any. I shouldn't even be living in Spain, but because I have a child, no family, and no money, we're stuck here. We're stuck in Barcelona—and don't get me wrong, I love the city. But we're stuck here in a shitty apartment."

Manuel dropped the towel he was holding and put his hands on my shoulders.

"Sam, I've said this to you before and I'll say it again now. Mi familia es tu familia. ¿Sí?" I nodded. "Bueno. Now, let's get to work. It's going to be a busy day."

"Saturdays are always busy, Manuel."

"Yes, I know." His face perked up at the sound of the restaurant doors opening. "Go on. Get orders going." With that, Manuel left me standing in the back of the kitchen.

I left the kitchen too. I grabbed my apron on my way out to the restaurant seating area. A group of four women sat at a round table by the window. Three of them were chatting away, while one seemed to be in her own world.

The something was said, bringing the dirty-blonde into their conversation. It was then I decided to walk over to them.

"Hola," I said, slipping straws next to each of them. "Me llama Sam. Seré tu camarera." My accent was noticeable as I spoke, but I already had to half of what I was saying. "What can I get started for you ladies?"

"Water, please."

"Limonada, por favor."

I thought about that for a moment. I believe she said lemonade.

"Water, gracias."

I turned to the woman with dirty blonde hair. She was looking at me but seemed so lost in thought at the same time.

"Ale, what do you want to drink?" One of the taller women spoke up. She pulled the other from whatever world she was living in.

"Water. Por favor. That'd be great. Gracias."

"I will be right out with those." I said with a smile. I made my way back to the kitchen. More employees had filed in by now and too began working. "Manuel, limonada is lemonade, right?"

"Sí, chica."

I knew that. I grabbed the four cups and filled them quickly. I almost bumped into some of the other waiters/waitresses on my way back to the women at the round window table.