The Waitress

The Green Recruit

MELODY rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tried, unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.

It was early – insanely early. Well, it would be if she lived in Queensland but it was still too early to be functional here in New South Wales  (10 kilometres into that state anyway). Yes, it was still too early to do things, functional things though it was never too early to write - she could write in her sleep. 

Daylight savings in her state and not in Queensland meant she had left her home half an hour and one state away at 6 am and here she was at 5.30 helping with preparation work and getting the café ready for another day.

It felt..................

Odd.

But it somehow felt good too.

Exhilarating, freeing, right.

Excitement bubbled.

Today was the first day of the rest of her life.

She's stepped off the edge, the treadmill of predictability, of endless lawbooks and articles, of shitty clients and condescending senior solicitors and she, was going to be a writer.

Well, first she was going to be a waitress, then a writer – you couldn't hurry these things.

She could kid herself that she'd chosen this place, a trendy little café and juice bar in the new precinct of the facelifted, modernized, newly light-railed part of Broadbeach because it wasn't far from university but really that had been a happy coincidence.

No, she hadn't really even chosen this restaurant at all, like all good things in life it had kind of appeared on her horizon, not because of anything other than beautiful serendipity – serendipity and a couple of scotches at the new whiskey bar near her old work.

Melody had seriously considered staying on at work in some capacity at least but it was draining her life force destroying her soul and if she was going to have a life change than why be halfhearted. But the thing about human beings, they need to eat. And there were bills – a car to upkeep, a house or two or two and a half. She had some income and things in trust but she didn't like the feeling of being kept by the past, she had always earned her own money, made her own way. Even despite her family and her family name.

No, she liked to make her own money.

But at least she had houses – not bad for a young failed lawyer of 26.

She'd rather have a father.

Sure, he'd been generous in his will and one day she'd get over the car accident that claimed him, that took away her only family but that wouldn't be anytime soon. Not even after two years. Two years on and it was still raw, it still hurt like a bitch and she was still lost and rudderless.

She wondered what he'd have thought of this change in lifestyle – actually she didn't need to, she knew this wasn't what he wanted for her. He was a solicitor and his father had been a judge. She'd followed suit like the dutiful daughter and went into the family business.

But while his life had taught her one thing his death had brought her quite another lesson.

Life's too short.

Sometimes painfully so.

This is what she had been describing to her friend and fellow legal grunt Liana that fateful Friday night two weeks ago, in the wine/whiskey bar just a suburb or two up the road. Liana had nodded sagely into her drink.

"You know you sound a lot like Crystal's brother," she'd mumbled a little incoherently thanks to the mix of Scotch and well more scotch, they'd been light on food so far. Just happy to escape the drudgery of the law firm (some 10 storeys above them) for a Friday night "girls" night. Though most of the "girls" – some of whom were male - had already gone home to their families or significant others. The aforementioned Crystal was the only other one left and she had been engaged in an animated conversation on the other side of their small corner table with an articles clerk from another local law firm. A brown-haired young man with a well-kept short beard who'd had a thing for her for a while. And after weeks of resisting, the blue-eyed blonde seemed to finally be warming to Christoph's charms. Melody figured it wouldn't be long before they'd be "speaking in tongues" well using tongues for some form of communication.