I didn't have high financial hopes for work that evening. I was just going to go to work and do my job and limp -- certainly, the thought of pity tips had crossed my mind. You see, a waiter is part con-man, part-actor, part personality prostitute and part server. If I interacted with my customers and made them laugh and made them think that I actually cared about them and their food, I made good money. If, however, I simply just served them and remained reserved, my pockets were much lighter at the end of the evening.
Since I was down in the doldroms over Bart, my only financial hope was to milk my sprained ankle for all it was worth. Honestly, it still pained me a bit, but over-all, it had almost healed Of course, I'd request to leave work after the initial dinner rush to stay off of my ankle -- and who wants to stay and do all that cleaning that you aren't paid for?................I wanted to get home quickly so that I could transform myself from humble waiter to party-hardy gay boy. Tonight, was the talent night and even though I didn't particularly care to see Mother or Cora, I would be there to watch Mitzi. Her candor and honesty had impressed me, and even though I certainly could not understand why anyone would ever want to cut off his dick -- cuz I LOVED mine -- I did understand her quest for self and admired her bravery. Besides, it would get me out of the house, and I could keep my mind off of HIM..........I hoped.
Everyone was kind at work and told me that they had missed me, which I knew was total bull shit. The other servers were happy that I'd been gone because they'd been able to wait on some of my clientele, and they'd made more money without me being there. I knew how they were. It was work. They were baracudas. The restaurant business is not known for being peopled with employees of high moral fiber....................... Of course, there was an exception here and there, but they were few and far between. While I had friends at work, at this stage, my relationship with them ended when the restaurant closed and resumed the next day when it opened with occasional exception. They knew the basics of my life, but I didn't discuss personal details ever.....(( I'd learned that information could be magic-wanded into ammunition many years prior.)) No one at work knew about Bart. They had only seen him that one time when he'd soda-watered the redneck in my defense, and I'd never mentioned him ever again, and that is how I wanted things to remain.
My regular customers noticed my change of demeanor that evening, and I blamed it on my ankle. Of course, I hammed up my limp, and my tips rivaled any stripper's tips that night. (( I decided that I'd limp through out the weekend...........I even considered limping through new year's, but decided that would have been pushing it a bit too much)). Everything was going along just fine, until right before I sat the fried ice cream in front of the lady in desperate need of Jenny Craig who just happened to be seated by the front door -- in perfect view of the main mall entrance.
One side of the restaurant was visually open to the mall, and the mall's front doors were only inches from our primary door. While it didn't have walls, it did have bars ((and when I worked that section, I did feel like I was incarcerated and in a sense, I was ))..... I happened to glance up, and I saw him.
BART
and he wasn't coming to see me and explain his whereabouts. No, he was walking briskly into the mall with that girl -- the one who had slipped into the shadows (( bleach blonde in need of a touch up and wide roamy hips...not exactly what I'd expected......)) And, she was THE one who I'd imagined he'd stayed the night with. THE one I supposed was his ex-fiance'................and for a moment, my eyes met Bart's.....my heart stopped. I could see something in his eyes, but he looked away quickly and said something to HER..... Involuntarily, tears welled up into my eyes, and I tilted the ice cream which was on a warmed skillet and the entire dollop landed in Jenny's future client's hair (( wisp, ratted and Final Netted to Filth)).................Bless her heart, she didn't say anything.... she just looked up at me like an injured puppy....Like she was accostomed to this sort of thing happening to her....... I didn't know what else to do, so I moved some shellacked strands and grabbed it and then placed it back on her skillet.................and mumbled "enjoy your dessert" as I placed it in front of her............and I ran to the bathroom in full limp.
What would you have done? I was in emotional turmoil. In that moment, I didn't care about her ice cream (( and she didn't need it anyway ))...but later, I thought about it and felt like someone who'd run-over a squirrel with his car...Poor thing. I think it was the look that got me..It was kind of the look that said "I'm not surprised by this cuz someone is always maltreating me"..... As I entered the toilet stall, I boo-hooed. I was convinced that Bart had reunited with his fiance', and even worse -- he hadn't even acknowledged me. I knew what Miss Patsy Cline had felt when she sang "I Fall to Pieces"....but she hadn't mentioned anything about dropping ice cream in the hair of a big boned gal from southwestern Arkansas.
I really don't know how long I was in the stall, but I regained my composure and went back to the table of the hairy fried ice cream. To my surprise, she'd eaten every bit of it -- and her do' was a little squashed in the middle.................. Since I didn't know what to say, I didn't say anything and gave her the check. She paid, and left me a 20.00 tip....and patted my arm on the way out. (( God bless portly girls. They understand about things when no one else does....)) I picked up her empty skillet and saw that resting on the side of it were two hairs.
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