Her Pacifier: Secrets From The Past

Chapter 53: A Mistake Worth Repeating For

Julian Hawk

The stacked sandwich on my plate is cheesy.

It's filled with so much cheese than it is with lettuce and ham, I doubt if any of the other ingredients will be tasted in my mouth without the cheese getting in the way first.

We're at a local diner called Jojo's Inn in the East of Hammersmith. The atmosphere is warm and refreshing but the mixed up orders don't go unnoticed.

A brunette bubbly waitress named Georgie got the thick cheese warmed up 'til it's mass excessed and the sandwich lost its composure. When I told her to replace the meal she served me with the food I actually ordered, she smiled, embarrassed, wiped some sweat off her creased forehead with the back of her hand and said, "Oh, it must have been the kitchen's mistake. I'm sorry. I'll have it replaced for you in a jippy."

Mind you, she never brought the right order.

By the way her colleagues were calling out for her and flooding her with so much tables to attend on her own, I could tell that it wasn't her first wrong order. Not wanting to add pressure or stress on kind Georgie, I held my tongue and indulged in my lunch. Melting cheese sandwich and saucy beef ribs. Grilled to medium rare, dipped in barbeque sauce and sprinkled with mild spices. I surprisingly loved it.

I made a mental note to brush my teeth before barging into Passion's room when I got back to Villeneuve. I'll never forget her reaction to the first time she assumes I did that when I snuck into the girl dormitories.

"There's a boy in my dorm!"

Boy, I'll always have that line living in my head, rent free. And the barging in and out of rooms, it's now become our thing, isn't it? Sad how nowadays that's all we do when someone is reported dead, only to be re-reported in a coma. Someone like Doug.

Pia is eating the same meal the waitress thought I ordered with a foamy glass mug of beer. Quietly. Too quietly.

Pia is the kind to talk without cease, especially when there's food stuffed in her mouth, so her silence has me squirming in my seat as it grows loud.

I swallow my food and wipe some barbecue sauce off the corners of my mouth then place it on the table.

"Please pass me that straw," I say.

I can reach for it on my own since it's right underneath her purse but I want to see if she will pass it to to me or not.

Pia pulls the straw out, removes its white wrapper and gently drops it in my glass of cola, without saying a word. Her eyes never leave her cheesy sandwich.

Her response was... fair so I gave another attempt.

"Could you please pass me the salt?"

Her focus still fixed on her ribs, she takes a huge bite of her well grilled ribs and shoves the salt in my outstretched hand. Before I could retrieve my hand, the black pepper followed. Then the bottle of ketchup. Then the bottle of mustard sauce. My hand dropped to the table at the added weight and the only thing I asked for rolled off my plate and crashed on the floor. Salt was spilling out the remains of the broken bottle on the floor like a turned over hourglass.
There was no mistaking the attention drawn to our booth now and Georgie rushing to clean the mess up, appearing not to be so bubbly anymore. I stammered an apology but the waitress only looked up at me, irritated.
Pia was still passing almost everything that was far from my reach to my side of the table with increasing anger. The barbecue sauce, an extra fork, tissues, toothpicks. I couldn't hold my tongue for a second longer when she began tossing the knives.