What a Klutz

Tuesday Night

I ran my hands down my raggedy t-shirt, trying to wipe off the crusty ketchup from my palms. I sighed in frustration, staring down at my wrinkled and red fingers.

"If you keep taking breaks, you'll be here all night!" My boss, Elizabeth, shouted from the freezer.

I scoffed.

Easy to say when you don't have to spend hours washing dishes.

I grabbed a towel from beside me and decided my hands needed to take a rest from scrubbing.

Grabbing the grey container from under the sink, I made my way to the front of the café. Looking around I let out a sigh of relief. Tuesday nights were always the slowest, and internally I prayed I would be out of here before 11:30pm.

Walking around the front counter, I made my way to the far left of the café. Grabbing the ponytail from my wrist, I threw my hair up into a messy bun and prepared to get the café ready for closing.

I grabbed plates and threw them into the grey container, wiping down the tables with disinfectant. Flipping over the wooden chairs, I placed them on top of the table and quickly moved on to the next one.

After weeks of working at this café I had become an expert at closing it down. In no more than 30 minutes I was already halfway done with the tables, and excited at the prospect of being able to leave early.

Turning around, I reached my hand out to grab an empty cup and paused.

A young girl who looked about my age sat at the corner of the cafe, her head down and her shoulders shaking.

Her long black hair cascaded down her head, covering her face. Perfectly manicured hands grasped onto the soft waves, pulling at them, and for a second I wondered if I should call out for Elizabeth.

Looking away from her I went back to cleaning up the tables, hoping she'd leave by the time I reached her.

She didn't.

"You know, if the cherry pie was that bad you could've asked for a refund" I said jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood.

She didn't reply.

As I opened my mouth to repeat myself, thinking she hadn't heard me, her head lifted. Crystal blue eyes framed by smudged black eyeliner stared up at me; dull and lifeless.

My breath caught in my throat and I instantly felt bad for the girl.

I sat down across from her and pulled out my hip flask. Grabbing her cup, I looked down at the cold and untouched coffee.

Sneaking a glance up at the girl, I saw her watching me with curiosity. Her hands had moved from grasping her hair and were laying softly on the table. I sighed in relief.

Ok, so she wasn't crazy.

I reached over the table and grabbed a potted plant from the window. Moving the leaves aside, I poured the cold coffee into the soil, too lazy to go to the kitchen and grab a clean cup.

Sliding the plant to the side I opened my flask and poured whisky into the empty cup, sliding it back over to the girl once it was filled to the brim.

The girl looked down at it, confused. I raised my eyebrows at her, as if to say 'what are you waiting for'.

She got the message, and in seconds the cup was empty and she was coughing up a fit.

I laughed. Not being able to contain my amusement.

"First time drinking?" I asked.

She looked up at me and nodded, her shoulders visibly relaxing.

"How old are you?" I asked next, ready to pull out my phone and call her parents if necessary.

"22" she replied. She slid the cup back at me and shifted her gaze to my flask.

I got the message too.

Pouring more whisky into the cup, I looked up at her and nodded, "Me too".

She smiled at that, grabbing the cup before I could slide it over and downing the whiskey in one gulp.

I took a swing of my flask and relished in the burning sensation as the hot liquid poured down my throat.

I watched her as she stared down at the now empty cup, her hands firmly wrapped around it.

"So" I asked, after a couple minutes of awkward silence, "What's your story?"