The Misfortune You Behold Is My Satisfaction

Chapter 4: A Window Closes, A Closet Opens

   The lunch rush at the diner is drowned out around you. It's all just muffled as you work on autopilot, walking around the diner and getting refills for people who need it. You're also busy thinking about the incident with Peter yesterday and how humiliated he made you feel. The way his eyes pierced into your soul, how his words rang threateningly in your ears. You were so sure he was going to tear you apart right then and there. But he didn't, and you're grateful for that. At the same time, it makes you angry that you just stood silently in cowardice while he hurled accusations and insults at you.

   You don't like how right he was. Of course, you were concerned about the topic of suicide, but you were still with the ‘fix him’ mentality in the beginning. You never really acted on your thoughts, but you still thought of it regardless. It was as if he read your mind. Was Peter that good at reading people? Or were you just easy to read?

   You're about to dwell on it more, but fingers snapping in front of your face catch your attention. You look up to see a very angry-looking blonde woman in her mid-30s with the signature bob cut. Her roots are showing, of course, and there are some highlights in her hair. She has her devil spawn sitting by her side, looking like he's about to pop out of his shirt that's too small for his youthful obesity. The kid looks like he's moving his arms under the table, not paying attention to his mother.

   “Hey! Didn't you hear me?! I asked for a menu!” The woman shouts from her booth, causing other people in the diner to look over. Your face immediately heats up, and you clutch the pitcher of water you were carrying to give people refills. Embarrassment fills you at being under the watch of many spectators.

   Unfortunately, no matter how much you want to tell this woman to shove it and take her bowling ball kid with her, you need this job. So, you put on a strained customer service smile and make your voice a higher pitch as you speak, “I'm sorry about that, ma'am. But there are menus already on the table.”

   You swear you can see the woman's eye twitching when you point to the menus that her son was playing with under the table. With a huff, she crosses her arms and stares at you with hate that could only have come from the pit of her black heart.

   “Well, they should be somewhere I can see them.” The woman says in a snooty tone, “I mean, what kind of restaurant is this? You don't even sell good real steak!”

   Your grip on the water pitcher tightens, and it takes every ounce of your entire being not to throw it at this woman. You try not to grit your teeth and speak, but your voice is straining.

   “Ma'am, the menus were visible. Your son was just playing with them, so you couldn't see them.” You explain, holding back your attitude. “And this is a diner, not a fancy restaurant. We sell fast food, not fancy food.”

   It seems that mentioning this woman's kid ignites something inside her because she immediately stands up and shouts at you, gaining the attention of all the other customers in the diner.

   “How dare you accuse my son of such a thing?! He is my sweet baby boy!” The woman's face is red with anger, and you swear, she'll pop like a tomato by the time she's done throwing her tantrum. “You shouldn't work here if you're going to be a bitch! I'll have you know, I'm very good friends with the owner of this establishment!”

   You just stare at the woman, mostly confused about what she thought you were accusing her kid of. The whispers and murmurs of the other customers around you make you even more nervous as you begin to lose your resolve.

   “Ma'am….” You start, trying to take a deep breath. “I wasn't accusing your son of anything. I was just explaining to you why you couldn't see the menus. Which was because your kid had them under the table flapping them.”