Heat Waves

three

There were some days that I absolutely dreaded my job. There were other days when I couldn't imagine working anywhere else. Today, I was in between. I was at work and went through the motions with an easy smile on my lips and a friendly voice. I didn't slouch, I was sweet as honey, I was fast and responsible, and I was in a different world at the same time. Hours flew by and before I knew it, I had thirty minutes left until closing. An eight-hour shift was over in the blink of an eye.

I worked as a waitress at a small burger and milkshake place. I took orders, delivered them, cleaned tables, and occasionally took over the register. My job was fairly easy. My first week here, I had been clearing tables and before I knew it, I had a whole pile of dishes for the person who had to wash them. She was a sweet old lady. She didn't speak English very well, but what little she could say could make even the Grinch crack a smile.

On that day I realized how underpaid she was for how much work she did, and I developed an appreciation for my fellow co-workers. The food industry was a messy and hectic business, and its employees were severely underappreciated. I learned her name, Rosa, since then, I began giving her all the tips that I earned. I needed them a lot less than she did. I did what I could to make her job a little bit easier -- scraping the food of the dishes before giving them to her, helping her rinse at the end of the night, putting them away for her when the rush was over, etc..

That's what I was doing in that moment, lost in the music coming from my earbuds as I scraped the food off of the final plates. Rosa had been long gone by now -- I never knew what actually happened to her -- but I kept up my habits with the future dishwashers, minus the tips of course. It was a grumpy old man after her, but he lasted no longer than two months even with my help. Then came another lady, but she was so slow that I ended up doing most of the dishes for her. She was fired three days later. The diner went through a few more employees -- none lasting more than a few months -- and now there was a new hire, a younger man.

I snuck a look at him as I set the last of the plates on the dish tray. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than me, but I doubted we went to the same school. I would've noticed someone like him. Slicked black hair that was long on the top and short on the sides; tall, tanned, and lean; eyes that were nearly black. From where I stood, lingering before I took the dishes to him, I could see a tattoo peeking out beneath the edge of the sleeve on his white t-shirt. We hadn't spoken yet, but sometimes when I was setting the trays on the table beside him, I thought I felt him look at me. Whenever I would look, however, he was never looking in my direction, always fully focused on the soapy water and endless dirty dishware.

I tucked one earbud over my ear and dropped my gaze. I wasn't sure how he caught my attention so much; he certainly didn't seem to be trying to attract attention. I think that may have been it. He was trying to be under the radar. He was trying not to be noticed. In that way, we had something in common.

"Mary!" I looked up immediately, startled by the call of my manager.

"Yes?" I set the tray on the table beside the sink and approached her, stopping a few feet away so as not to look straight down at her. For a loud and demanding woman in charge, she was very short.

"Come with me," she commanded. I followed her as she led me past the kitchen and the storage room, deeper into the diner than I had ever had the need to venture. We stopped at a red door with a black star on it. She told me to wait for her to return from within that room, so I did. I stood in those blue halls for no more than five minutes before she opened the door for me and announced, "Come in."

I walked inside what I assumed to be her office. It was odd; I'd never seen it before, not in all the months I'd worked for her, though I shouldn't have been surprised. The diner's equivalent of an interview was handing me an apron and telling me to "get to it."

"Sit," she commanded from behind her cluttered desk. I did. We were almost equal in stature then, her in her high office chair and me in a cheap black folding chair. She leaned forward, setting her elbows on her face, and the mean and stern face of hers seemed to soften. "This should have come sooner. I've been waiting for it to get approved by the owner, but he's been on vacation for weeks and now that he's finally here..." Her thin, lipstick-pink lips spread in an excited grin as she pulled out an envelope from beneath a stack of papers. "Here." She handed it to me. "A little thank you for being such a loyal and hard-working member of our team." We stared at each other for a few seconds before she rushed, "Go on! Open it."

I tore the edge of the envelope and slipped the folded paper out. I had gotten a raise, apparently, of a grand total of fifty cents. I couldn't help but crack a smile as I read it over again. Fifty cents. I wasn't sure how much difference that would make, or how big of a thanks it was. She had meant it when she said a little thank you.

My manager seemed to have taken my smile for joy, not humor. "I know you're not much of a talker so I don't expect a lot out of you, but I hope that this will convince and motivate you to stay with us and continue your hard work. I want you to know and feel our appreciation for your contribution to this team."

I did end up thanking her. She tried to hug me but it felt a bit awkward with her short, round body so close to me so that lasted no more than half a second. When I emerged from her office, I saw everyone was finishing up in the kitchen so I went to the dining area and tidied up the details, just wasting time until ten o'clock hit. When it did, I clocked out and was out the side door in no more than three minutes, standing underneath a blue blanket of stars. The envelope was tucked in my apron pocket, so I pulled it out before I untied the apron from my waist. At least my mom would be happy about the raise.

"Good news?" His voice startled me. It was deep but smooth, melting into the quiet of the suburban city night. The new hire stood right next to me as he swiped a match on the side of the match box in his hands and lit a cigarette.

I didn't know what to say for a minute. It was silent and still, but he was patient, his eyes on the space ahead of him and shoulders tensing and relaxing with every drag of tobacco that he took. "Something like that," I finally said.

He smiled. I smiled, too, and I looked at him. He was so close, closer than he'd ever been to me. His face was just as attractive and his frame just as passively dominant from a few inches away as it was from yards away. I wanted to keep staring longer, but I knew I'd regret it if I did, so I dropped my gaze to look at the envelope one last time before slipping it into my back pocket.

Without a word, he took one last drag and walked off towards what I assumed to be his truck, an older looking brown Ford truck, boxy but attractive.

It was the first time he'd ever spoken to me. I found myself hoping it wouldn't be the last.