Cocoon

Chapter 2: The Old Man and The Waiter

[RIENNA]

The old man that sat across me, now sharing the same table as me, listened silently and attentively as I told him about the unfortunate event that is my dilemma. He looked like he was in his late 60s or early 70s. As I told my tale, he nodded a few times but mostly he just kept a poker face. There were times when I stopped talking for a while, expecting for at least a feedback or a comment, but he just urged me to continue, saying “Is that all?” or “Keep going, don’t stop.” So I did.

 When I finished, he still didn’t say anything at all, except for one statement, “I see.”

 So I just focused on finishing my soup and Carbonara. When I finished that, he still kept silent. Trever was on his lap and he was petting him while keeping his “thinking” face.

 It was only when I finished my coke that he spoke again, but not addressing me.

 “Waiter.” He called while raising his right hand and making a square with his fingers. The gesture that meant he was asking for the receipt.

 I raised a brow and wondered what he was planning to do.

 When the waiter arrived with the check, I already had the money in my hand…

 “Here’s your check, sir.”

 …But apparently, I didn’t need it.

 “Huh?!”

 “Here sir, keep the change.” The old man said as he placed a hundred dollar bill on the plate the waiter carried.

 Even the waiter, who looked almost around the same age as me, was surprised. My meal didn’t cost THAT much, so the change would be his tip… which is more than the actual cost of my meal. “Oh, err, thank you sir. Is there anything else you might need?” the waiter asked, feeling obliged to offer more services due to his overpriced tip.

 “As a matter of fact, yes, we do. We would appreciate it very much if you helped this lady carry her belongings to the hotel that she’ll be staying in. It’s near here actually so you could probably talk to your manager and ask if you could be excused from your shift for a while.” The old man says formally. The mind boggling thing was that his voice was friendly but his face was intimidating. How can an old man pull off a dual expression like that?

 Even the waiter was puzzled, and uncertain what to do next. “Uhh… I’ll go ask my manager now. Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” He left quickly, probably still wondering about what he was asked to do just now.

 Finally, I recovered from my state of speechlessness and turned to the old man, “Sir! What did you just do? Why did you pay for my meal? And why did you ask the waiter to help me carry my bags to a hotel that, if you remembered from my story, I won’t be staying in because of a stupid scam?” I asked frantically and in a rush due to my state of shock.

 He stared at me for a while and said, “A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

 I swallowed in guilt and realized how stupid I was not to feel grateful instead to the one and only New Yorker who offered to help a stranger like me.

 I hung my head in shame, “O—of course. Thank you for your help sir, and forgive my thoughtlessness.”

 He nodded, “Your welcome, but you don’t have to be so formal about it.”

 I raised a brow, who’s being formal? I wanted to counter, but I didn’t want to embarrass myself again.

 What am I getting myself into?

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 I got my belongings out of the Storage Counter then the old man and I waited for the waiter to come back out. I told the old man maybe his manage didn’t allow him to leave his shift and that we should probably just leave already. But the old man just said, “Good things come to those who wait.” I just kept silent then to avoid getting another “fortune cookie” quote out of the old man.