Only Fools

Chapter 1

The bell sounds, "order out." I tray the food for table 213.

"You're still here?" The night manager, Laura, ask and I nod my head, lifting the tray over my head.
"Go home, sweetie. You're getting bags under your eyes, you need to rest." I slyly smile and shake my head.

"We close in two hours, I can wait it out." I protest but she shakes her head.

"Nell," the sternness in her voice and the raise of her eyebrow (and the aching in my feet) make me cower down, and I put the tray back on the table.

"Jack, run this." She instructs, and we watch him take the tray over his own head and leave the kitchen with it.

After spending the next few moments of Laura giving me the "you need to take care of yourself" speech, I untie my apron and clock out.

The wind is harsh and I cling to my notebook of training material threatening to blow away. Tomorrow starts my first day of training to be server manager, since the current manager, Ollie, is moving to be with his wife in California. She got a business deal making almost double what she makes here, it was too good to pass up such an opportunity.

I fumble with my keys but eventually get them in the ignition and take a huge yawn, rubbing my tired eyes. Last night was another sleepless night, the pills stopped working. Everything reminded me of my late husband - fiancé, I remind myself. The tick of the clock sounded like the heart monitor, but drowned out the complete silence- like the awful silence in the hospital room.

I push the memories to the back of my head and wipe the tear that escaped when I let myself remember what he looked like hooked up to all those machines. He lied there so lifeless. There was nothing I could do except hold his hand and cry. I felt so helpless every day for months, pacing around waiting rooms and eating fast food occasionally to survive.

I pull into the first available parking space and shut the car off, taking a look in the mirror and wiping away the smudged makeup. The spot was a good distance from my apartment, but I'm lucky I even got this close. Usually, by the time I get home I have to park behind my apartment building and walk (what feels like) twenty miles to even get to my front door. Walking across the pavement, I wave at Phil, the maintenance man, before pushing the key in the lock.

The aroma of fresh cookies hits me, and I look around, candles lit and holiday music on.

"Merry Christmas!" My best friend and roommate, Tara, greets me and sets a batch of chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table.

"You do know that Christmas is still almost two months away, right?" I ask, picking up a cookie as I plop on the sofa.

She reminds me, "it's never too early to start celebrating!"

Tara takes a cookie before sitting next to me, crossing her legs under her. I listen as she tells me about her day, and the old grumpy lady who demanded her soup to be remade because it had "too much flavor." I laugh at the appropriate times, nod along, and keep as fully engaged as possible until my mind starts to drift off. I think about the time Dillion proposed to me. It was actually in the middle of our little diner. Laura made sure to give me hardly any tables that day so I would stay in "tip-top shape" when he asked. Right in the middle of our usual after-church crowd, when all the regulars were there to enjoy their Sunday lunch, Laura told me I had a table of twenty guest. Preparing for it, I took myself to the back and made enough rolls and butter for twenty people but when I returned to the dining room, the tables were moved and rose petals made the shape of a heart. There he stood, the man I loved, the man I could count on, my best friend. When we locked eyes, I felt my world stop spinning long enough, the dining room drowned out and all the eyes on us were just oblivion.

He gave a speech, just like every proposal goes except before he got on one knee he approached my father, who I didn't expect to be sitting at a table behind me, sitting across from my mother who had tears in her eyes. He took the ring out of his pocket and set it on the table.

"I love her more than anything in this world. Would you please allow me to marry your daughter?" My dad shook his head yes, took ahold of the box and placed it back in his hand. He traditionally got down on a knee and asked me to marry him.

Except-

"PE-NEL-O-PE!" Tara snapped her fingers, insinuating every syllable in my name.

"Sorry," I said shyly and grabbed another cookie.

After a few glasses of wine and a couple episodes of Real Celebrity Housewives, me and Tara decided it was time for bed.