Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 197(@250wpm)___ 164(@300wpm)
I take my plate to my only table. Once he’s gone for the morning, I’ll be able to take a quick break.
“Here you go, Mr. McCoy.” I place the eggs benedict with two sides of bacon in front of my usual. On my first day an older gentleman in his late seventies struck up a conversation, talking about everything. Where I came from, why I left, what I’m up to. He managed to sneak his way into my heart, had me sitting down for a quick break, and I told him everything, dumping all my childhood and adulthood trauma on him.
“Girl, I told you more times than I can remember. Call me, Bernie. And sit down for a minute. I know Denny and Nikki owe you a break. Come chat with me a minute.” Mr. McCoy isn’t leaving much room for argument, and I’d drop down in the vinyl booth if it weren’t for my stomach growling.
“Alright, Bernie. Let me put my order in, grab the coffee pot for your refill, and I’ll take a seat.” Denny and Nikki offer one free meal on every shift. A perk I have no problem cashing in on. It’s one less meal to have to worry about, and I make sure it’s packed full of protein, vegetables, and carbs to hold me over until dinnertime. Is it healthy to only eat one real meal a day? Absolutely not. Do I like eating what I want, usually a platter of cheese, crackers, and fruit? Absolutely, but a girl dinner is a must after not having the choice for too many years to count. While yes, I could have cooked and kept a pantry full at my parents’ house, I did not and would not. The reason is they’d probably have sold the food for their next high or bottle of liquor.
“Don’t take too long. You look like you’re dead on your feet,” Mr. McCoy acknowledges. I must be limping or rubbing my lower back again. I was trying to hold off for a few more weeks, but sadly, I think this weekend’s agenda is going to consist of heading to the mall where I purchased my phone.
“You got it, and I’m okay.” I don’t stick around any longer. He’ll try and tell me to quit coming by the one day a week to help out, and that will make me cry. You see, as much as I’ve helped him, he’s helped me tenfold. The grandfather figure I’ve never had, a friend when I never really knew what a real one was. The friends I did have slowly disappeared when all I did was work my life away, and let’s face it, my life was full of secrets. Especially when you’re trying to hide the fact that your parents are addicts and don’t care about you.
“Hey, Denny, I know it’s technically still early, but is there any way to get a deluxe club with hashbrowns?” I make it back through the maze of tables, picking up a few plates, cups, and trash. Olive and I have a system—I’ll clean up, and she’ll wipe down. It helps not make things too monotonous when we swap out days. My fingers are crossed behind my back, hoping that I’m not requesting too much. I’d prefer French fries, but beggars can’t be choosers.
“Sure thing, hon. Everything’s out and ready to be made for the basics when it comes to lunch. You don’t have to worry, Carsynn.” His chef’s hat is askew on his head, and the white apron he’s wearing is stained, mainly in the midsection. Denny is a burly man, tall in stature, yet he’s a softy deep down inside. I think Nikki plays a big part in his personality. They both are nicer than anyone ever has to be, going the extra mile for their employees.
“Thanks, Denny, I really appreciate it.” After eating more breakfast food than I cared to in the past couple of weeks, I’m thankful for the reprieve.
“Go have a seat. I’ll bring it to you.” I nod, swallowing the golf-ball-sized lump forming in the back of my throat. In Virginia, no one was nice like this, and if they were, it was for their own reason and not out of the goodness of their heart.
“Thanks.” I put the plates in the sink to soak and wipe my sweaty palms on my own apron. Another plus in the pro column about The Sunshine Diner is the uniform, or lack thereof. As long as you wear the shirt they provided for you, a few ranging in color from white to butter yellow, to black, Nikki and Denny are perfectly happy. My last job in Virginia was not that way. I’d have to wear a dress-like smock. It didn’t matter the weather or that customers would try to play grab ass, you wore what you were told, and you kept your mouth shut. I know for a fact Denny and Nikki would never allow that to happen. It’s a different pace of life, a different atmosphere, and one that I’m finding I really love.