The diner is dim with the flickering lights and no sunlight shining through the windows. Even with the rain, the diner is packed with its usual customers. I hang up my wet sweatshirt, revealing the black waiter's shirt and clean jeans; the worker's outfits are blessed with comfort, as the owners are quite laidback. "Brea, start taking table five's orders. Get them some water to start off with. Hannah left on her "break" before I could ask her." The manager's wife, Sophie, asks me, greeting me with a sweet string of orders and a smile. I wrap the mandatory black apron around my wait and grab a notepad. "Hello, welcome to Lil Jake's. I'm Brea, I'll be your waitress today. Can I start you all off with drinks?" A cute couple with a set of girls, young, maybe ten and eleven, look up at me. "I'll have a diet coke, the girls will have apple juice, and Bryan," She places a hand on her husband's shoulder, "will have a beer." I write it all down and promise to be back in a few minutes. I walk back to the kitchen, grab a few glasses, and start to fill them up the desired drinks. I grab one of the big carrier plates and carefully balance the cups on my hand. "Hey, can you get me a beer?" I call out to someone nearest to the cooler. She nods, pulls out a beer covered in frost, and adds in on to my platter. I nod a thanks and walk back out to the table. I place the drinks in front of each person, and I watch as Bryan takes a much needed sip of his beer and sigh. The wife starts to blurt out meal for everyone, and as she orders a salad for her husband, he snaps. "Actually, scratch out the salad. I would like the double stacked cheeseburger with extra bacon, mushrooms, and a big side of fries." He smiles smugly at his wife, who is dumbfounded, and hands me all the menus. As I walk away from them and towards another table, I overhear their conversation. "Bryan, we are supposed to be eating healthy. That was the deal." The wife whispers sharply, sucking on her diet coke. "Actually, Char, you're eating healthy. I need this burger, babe. You're starving me out." He teases her, kissing her temple. I hear her sigh, not from frustration, but from love, leaning into him. My heart skips a beat for them, and I go back to taking orders."Hey!" Lyra rushes past me and greets me with a quick squeeze on the arm. She goes to a table full of teenage boys, leaning on the table talking to them, flirting as they flirt back. As she scribbles something on her notepad, they all watch her in awe, and as she walks away, they can't drag their eyes away from her butt. I roll my eyes and walk back to the kitchen with a ring of orders from different tables. "Geez, why can't people order simple things like a ham sandwich or a cup of ice to eat?" George, the only cook working today, complains. He works nonstop every day to support his eight year old daughter and his young wife, 25 to his 33. He loves them more than he loves himself. I've heard so many stories about them I feel like we are best of friends even though we have never met. "George, I hope I don't hear you whining back there! You're a grown man; show these girls what a real cook does." Tyler, the actual manager calls out, laughter in his voice. "All cooks complain! Haven't you've seen Hell's kitchen?" George calls back, referring to his favorite show. He plays it on the small TV in the bar area all the time, and no one has been able to persuade him to change the channel. He plants a bulging burger in front of me, and I load it on my plate with other lunches. I weave in and out of tables, placing orders in front of hungry customers. Choruses of gratitude call out to me. This is where I can breathe. Here, in this worn out restaurant, and the track. As the day passes on, people come and go, Lyra getting phone numbers as I get tips. At eight thirty on the dot, the regular crowd shows up. Jerry, the man with big jeans and almost empty pockets sits at the bar, orders a special and a whiskey on the rocks. Gretchen, the cute old lady who sits in the corner booth, a romance novel in her hand as she sips on hot tea and nibbles on the small piece of cherry pie we save for her, waves at me as she walks through the door, Harry holding it open for her. Harry is the young man who travels from town to town, who writes in his brown leather journal, and who never orders anything over five dollars. He's dressed up tonight, not the normal beat up flannel. A blue button down matches his eyes. He smiles at the crew, and as he sits down, Lyra speeds over with his usual Pepsi, eager to talk to him. She has had a crush on him ever since he moved here two years ago. I have a few of his written work pinned up in my room, works that he had slipped in with his tip. Shannon is the last to show up in this band of misfits, her hair pulled back in a French braid. She's the animal shelter owner down the road. She is always covered in dog hair and has pictures to show me of new animals in the shelter. But tonight, before she walks in, she checks her reflection in the side door. She takes out her braid, wavy wisps of hair fluttering past her shoulders. Instead of wearing what she wore at work today, she is wearing a white blouse that thrives against her tan skin. She looks beautiful, and everyone turns to her as she walks in. She blushes, hides behind her hair for a split second, and then smiles in the general direction of the crowd. She usually sits in a booth with coffee spills labeled into the table and a rip in the booth's leather that no one had the time to close up. But tonight, she sits in the chair across from Harry. He glances away from Lyra to greet Shannon, and is taken back. He breathes out a "wow," and this was Lyra's cue to leave. "I knew they would end up together." Gretchen whispers to me, a wrinkly hand on my own as I bring her a new teabag and a kettle of hot water. "I had hopes for them too. I'm glad they finally got the memo," I say, and she laughs, a cute little jingle. I walk away with the empty kettle and sit behind the bar with Lyra. "Where were you today after school? I waited for you, but then I had to rush home to get changed." She sips on a root beer, her favorite soft drink. "Dave wouldn't open," I pour out the tip jar on the table and start to count it out. The tips are split equally to eight workers. The tips the customers gave to the worker personally gets to keep that money. Today, the tip jar was close to full. "So how much today, darlin'? Sophie comes up behind me and hands me fresh cup of lemonade. She makes the best pink lemonade, and she usually makes me a pitcher to bring home. "308.56," I say, and she whistles. "That's better than we've done all month," she rubs my back, and I start to split up the money. Lyra is watching Shannon and Harry, her shoulders slumped. "They're cute together," She sniffles, and to her annoyance, I laugh. "Lyra, you're seventeen. Harry is at least twenty five. It's illegal," and she huffs at that. "Yeah, well, I would risk that for him." I shake my head and slide over her part of the money. I then start to put the separate piles of money into plastic bags. "George, this is your split," I toss it to him through the open window, and he catches it, weighs it with his hand. "Nice," he says, nodding his head. I write names on the bags in sharpie and gather up my stuff. My shift was over ten minutes ago, but I like to stay after with Lyra. "You're going home? Here, take this." Sophie hands me a big bottle of lemonade and gives me a hug. "See you tomorrow." I wave goodbye, and make my way out. As I open my car door, someone calls my name. "I'm glad I saw you leave," Harry reaches me, and hands me a paper. "I wrote this, and I need your opinion." "Can I keep this?" "Well, it's just a rough draft..." "Harry, you know those are the ones I want most." He smiles at my comment and hugs me goodbye. "Good luck on your date!" I call out into the dark.
As I pull into my driveway, I notice the living room light on. I curse under my breath and turn my car off. I gather up my stuff and my nerve. I unlock the front door and am welcomed home by a screaming match. "You had all this money and you wasted it on your whore! You are such an idiot!" My mother screams out, and I hear a crash. "Shut up! I earned this money, so back the fuck off!" A man's voice rings out, and I cringe. It's her boyfriend, Jeff. They started dating on and off about two years ago. To get to the back of the house, to the bedrooms, I have to walk past the doorway where they are having their discussion. I sigh, knowing it's now or never, and start to walk. "Where the hell have you been?" Jeff grabs me by the arm and drags me out of the shadow. "I was at work," I mumble, and he tightens his grip. "Did you bring home what your mother asked you to this morning?" I reach into my bag and pull out a small bag of white powder. My mother, Carol, walks over to me and rips it out of my loose grip. She opens the bag, wets her finger, and dips it into the bag. She runs the white powder on her bottom row of teeth, and she laughs. "Good girl," Jeff whispers into my ear, and I curl my head away from him. He shoves me away and grabs Carol by she waist and spins her around. Their fight was short and sweet; at least no one got hurt this time. I pick up my bag and pitcher and walk to the small kitchen. I place the lemonade in the back of the refrigerator, and walk back to the last two rooms of the house. I slip into a room covered in cut out pictures of Buzz and Woody, and sit on the ground in front of a small wooden bed. I run my hand through the little boy's blonde matted hair, and he stirs under my touch. "Brea? You're home!" He sits up fast and wraps his tiny arms around my neck. "Hey, Jayden." I hug him back. As he pulls back, I pull out a baggie of treats Sophie made for him, making me promise to give it to him right when I get home. "Sophie says hi," I say as I place the bag in his lap. He giggles and places a French fry in his mouth. "How long have they been fighting?" I ask him quietly as he munches on his dinner. He shrugs, and says through food, "Forever." He pulls at my shirt and I climb into his bed. He sits in my lap with his too small pajama bottoms not even covering his ankles. I start to sing his favorite song, "Give me Love," and he rests his head on my chest. His breathing starts to get heavier and slower, and I know he has fallen asleep. I don't risk to wake him up by moving, so I stay put for a few minutes. I hear the front door slam shut around midnight, the car peeling out of the driveway. They have gone to get more drugs. Either that, or they are going to sell what they have left of what I gave them tonight to get money for alcohol. I watch the red numbers on Jayden's alarm clock change and I start to fall under with his body snugged into mine.
YOU ARE READING
Heart Burns
Teen Fiction"Your perspective on life comes from the cage you were held captive in."
