Naomi :: Cugino’s :: March 2003
“Okay, you’ve outdone yourself,” I admitted as I took another bite of Paolo’s latest concoction. Cheesecake with a gingerbread crust and garnished with berries-- it was almost too pretty to eat. But I did anyways.
“You like, Nomi?” Paolo said, kneading dough on the well-floured counter between us.
“Like? Oh my god, it’s amazing!” I kept eating, savoring every bite. It wasn’t often that I actually got to enjoy, or even take my break at work.
We were this up and coming little restaurant in this nothing town-- word had definitely spread among such a small circle of people. I’d seen my fair share of money within the first three months there, sometimes upwards of two hundred dollars a night, when we were busy.
It was a far cry from the diner I used to work at a few blocks away.
At times, I felt bad for my old co-workers, still scraping by.
But at other times, like during a rush, I remembered how they pretty much sat around and did nothing. Like they came to work but didn’t expect to actually work. All sympathy lost-- I hated putting up with that.
“Well, I guess it’s time for me to get off break,” I said dreamily. The cheesecake had really had an effect on me-- I literally almost licked the plate clean.
“Okay. You have fun then, now, Nomi,” Paolo called over his shoulder.
During lunch, the tips were better. People were in a better mood. I was actually awake and not constantly dragging my feet from table to table. I looked better, too-- even if no one really noticed my efforts to look cute and decent.
Plus, if there were a bunch of customers, I was always running and I didn’t even have time to consider what was going on at home or school or whatever else. It was just me, focusing on these people that wanted food. Not really much more connection than that, not really.
Couple in table seven. He pulled out her chair for her. They were both very polite. The girl seemed pretty jumpy. The guy was more relaxed, telling her what his favorite dishes were and so on.
“So, are you guys ready to order?” I asked, trying not to butt into their conversation. They’d been saying something about some guy named Dwight and something else about Jell-O. God, I was really bad at pretending I hadn’t heard every word they’d said.
“Yes, I think so,” the girl said. She looked over her menu one more time, placing her finger on her selection. Ravioli and a green salad with blue cheese dressing. A little daring-- I would have gone with Ranch for fear of stinky breath. They must have been pretty comfortable with each other.
The guy ordered a panini and homemade chips.
“Are the chips spicy at all?” he asked me as I was about to take their menus.
“No, not really. They have pepper and a hint of garlic, but not much of anything else. They’re really good,” I reassured him with a smile.
“Can’t handle a little spiciness?” his date asked him.
He got a little embarrassed and thanked me.
Paolo talked to me while he prepared their food, like always. He called me Bella and acted like he was really Italian. I wondered constantly if his name was really Paolo. At times, I half-expected him to break out a fake mustache to match those of his great heroes.
In reality, he was about as English as you can get, with fair hair and light skin. All the classic features with none of the accent. But I was thankful for it, I looked forward to it like all the junk TV shows I watched at home.
“You think those two are in love?” I asked him after I’d gone to check on my other tables.
He was up to his elbows in sauce and cheese. “Ah, yes. Those two. They’re something. See the way they look at each other, bella.”
“She’s lucky-- that guy is really paying attention to her, you know,” I replied and contemplated with a sigh.
I hadn’t had fun on a date for as long as I could remember. I was always serving the food, never enjoying it. Either that, or my bad habit would start to kick in and I would endlessly criticize the service while my date rolled his eyes.
I couldn’t say I blamed any of them for not calling back.
Paolo shrugged his shoulders. “Nah, not just paying attention to her. It’s the whole thing. Love, love, love, that’s amore.”
I didn’t understand a word of it. I laughed a small, pitiful laugh and turned to look at Paolo. “You’re something, too, you know.”
He grinned. “Yes, Bella. But not so much as you. You’ll find whatever it is.”
Cue the music as if I could see the future. Paolo singing “That’s Amore,” and swaying around with a wooden spoon and muttering to me that my side dishes were up.
The only two times I came back to that couple’s table, I felt like I was interrupting something huge. They were constantly laughing, relaxed, focused only on themselves and whatever they were talking about.
When the girl got up to go to the bathroom, I went over with the check and handed it to the guy. As I started gathering dishes and shoveling her leftovers into a carryout box, he asked me a question.
“Do you think this was a date?”
I thought for a minute. Maybe I’d been totally wrong about this.
“Um, what do you mean?” I said, a little curiously.
“This girl, and me.. Do you think she considered this a date?”
I snapped the lid shut on the styrofoam box and started tying it with the customary red and white checked ribbon. I swore we were losing money on it.
“I thought you guys were, like, boyfriend and girlfriend. God, I’m sorry-- I didn’t mean to--”
“No, no. That’s okay. Just looking for another girl’s opinion,” he replied, fishing through his wallet and pulling out a Visa card, before replacing it with a two twenties.
“Well,” I began, not really sure what he wanted to hear. “I’ve seen a lot of couples in here before, all kinds. You guys looked, by far, I don’t know-- the happiest. Idyllic.”
He chuckled to himself and handed me the bill. “She just told me she’s in love with some other guy. Engaged. God, I'm so blind I didn't even catch the engagement ring.”
My heart sank. I sighed at him with sincerity and couldn’t believe how stupid I was to even get involved. I thought of his joke about the Jell-O and the stapler, and how he was embarrassed about the spicy chips. He wanted to impress her, and got left with a shocker.
I said what I thought was right, offering him a small smile and my most heartfelt, secondhand advice. “You’ll find whatever it is.”
He raised his eyebrows and gave it a little thought. “Yeah, well..”
The girl came back to the table. “Jim! Sorry it took so long, can you believe there was a line in the bathroom? Crazy.” She saw me standing there, lingering. “Thank you so much! Everything was really great.”
The little diamond on her hand caught my eye, quickly. I hadn't seen it either, maybe because I was so determined that they were in love. Maybe I was just holding out hope.
I smirked and said quietly, “Welcome.” She didn’t know all that I had just heard. I imagined that’s what it was like for a lot of people-- I knew entire life stories in cases where things seemed almost impossible to understand. Yet people were willing to discuss them in restaurants, oblivious to the fact their waitress has pretty good ears.
“Okay, so, Pam,” Jim said hurriedly. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah,” she chirped.
I turned to walk away, rang up the bill. I returned with the remainder, but he waved me off.
“Keep the change,” he said.
I watched him, a little brokenness, disappointment I found in his eyes. He didn’t let it show very much, if it all-- but it was there. Waitressing, among other things, trains you to read people and what they’re feeling.
I wasn’t sure what matched up with this one, but I took “keep the change” to mean more than it did.
Keep the change, let it into your life, accept it.
Come to terms with the fact that change is all around, always.
Settle back to the way things were, know that surprises are bound to happen.
I decided that I must not be the only person who hates surprises.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Jim and Pam's first "date"
Chapter End Notes:
hope you enjoyed-- stay tuned for more coming very soon! :)
