Part 7 (1/2)

”I'm okay,” she said. You've still got orders coming in. Don't get behind on my account.”

”I won't get behind. I'm fast.” He grabbed a ticket. ”I don't really know what I'm doing, here. What goes in a ... ensalada de pepino?” he asked.

Sara spread her feet a little wider apart, leaning on the counter for balance. ”What? Oh. That's ... that's cuc.u.mbers with tomato ...” She swallowed and tried to clear her head. ”And then you put oil and vinegar.” She gestured at the bottles.

”You okay?” he asked. He looked like a concert pianist as his hands deftly a.s.sembled the dish.

”Yeah. Just way, way tired.” She tried to smile. ”It's the season. I don't really come to life until the sun's been down a while, you know. And lately I can't sleep until the sun comes up.” She rubbed her eyes. ”I had a few cups of coffee tonight but it didn't do anything.”

”Remind me to give you a few Quaaludes tonight. They take care of the jitters and let you sleep.”

”You've got Quaaludes?” she said, lowering her voice. ”Why didn't you tell me? I hate you.”

”Well, you'll come around. We'll be at my place in a few hours.”

”I know. Thinking about it perks me up a little. And now that I brought over my microwave and a few dishes, we can even eat there. Like human beings.”

”Or drink gin. Humans drink gin.”

”Mmmm. That'd get me moving. Do we still have tonic and limes?”

He s.n.a.t.c.hed another ticket. She took one, too. ”Don't know,” he said. ”I never use 'em.” The sungla.s.ses looked especially dark as he turned to look at her. ”You gonna make it three more hours 'til closing time?”

She nodded. It was all she could muster the strength to do.

”Uh, Sara?”

Julie, a pretty blonde waitress, stood across from the workstation. Sara lifted the plate and gestured for Julie to place her ticket beneath the others but Julie shook her head.

”Your mother is here. She told me to ask you to come see her.”

”Oh, s.h.i.+t.” Sara shook her head, fighting for consciousness. ”Thanks, Julie. I'm sorry she made you come in and tell me. s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t, s.h.i.+t.”

Julie raised her fluffy blonde eyebrows, shaking her head. ”Your mom is ... pretty intense. She moved into my section because she complained about some vent blowing on her in Jeremy's. I've already had to get her a new set of silverware and a different water gla.s.s.”

Sara nodded. ”Yep. That's Mummy. If it helps to know, she's nicer to you than she is to me.” Julie went back out to the dining area.

”Okay,” Alexander said, reading another ticket. ”Pimentos de atun. Pimentos and tuna. I just put tuna on pimento slices?”

Sara gestured to the stainless steel tubs where the ingredients were. ”I've got to go out there. This is to punish me for canceling our lunch date last week. I've gotta go see my mother so she can chastise me in front of the whole restaurant.”

Alexander didn't look up. ”So f.u.c.k it. Don't go.”

”I can't. She'd never just leave. She'd send Julie back here again and again ... then she'd make a big scene. Getting me fired like that would be even more fun for her.” Her eyes squinted closed. She spread her fingers across her furrowed forehead. ”She was raging on the phone when I cancelled, making me explain every minute of my schedule ... and I slipped and told her I work here. I'm such a f.u.c.kng idiot.” She grabbed his shoulder. ”You gotta help me.” She lowered her voice. ”You've got c.o.ke, right? I need some. I can't face the crowd. Can you give me some? Just a little?”

He nodded and slipped something into her hand. A little brown bottle, about the size of her pinky finger. He leaned in close, speaking quietly. ”There's a spoon inside.” He gestured to the storeroom.

She ducked in and unscrewed the lid. Stuffed down in the powder was a tiny plastic spoon- Sara recognized it as the bottom third of a McDonald's coffee stirrer. She filled it, lifted it to a nostril, and sniffed. Then she did it again to the other side.

She gave Alexander his bottle back and made another dish while she waited for the powder to kick in.

”Sara? You've really got to come out now,” Julie said, appearing before her again. ”I know you're busy, but I just can't handle much more of your mother.” Sara nodded and followed her.

Julie pointed to the table as they emerged from the kitchen. Her mother saw her almost at once and began waving like a football referee. Across the little table from her was a man with brown curly hair and a moustache.

”Sara!” her mother proudly announced as she approached, ”this is Paul. Paul, this is my daughter, Sara.”

The numbness in Sara's face was spreading through her body now, muting the usual writhing discomfort she felt around her mother.

Paul nodded at Sara and turned his attention back to his imported beer.

”Sara's a very busy girl, Paul,” her mother said. ”She goes to McCaffrey College- you know what a good school that is, and the tuition is just astronomical, of course. But now she's gotten herself a job. Isn't that sweet? She's such a ... such a hard little worker.”

Paul nodded again. Sara looked down at her uniform and the stains that stood out against the gleaming white s.h.i.+rt and pants. Preppy people from nearby tables turned to look at her.

With a start she realized it was all right. Let them stare. She was fabulous. And anyway, she was strong enough to take them on, whoever they might be.

”Uh, Mummy? I have to get back to the kitchen.”

”Of course you do, honey,” her mother replied, her face turning angry and hurt. ”It looks really busy here tonight. We don't want to interfere. We know how busy you are. You had to cancel our lunch, you're so busy, with your little job and all.”

”I'm building my resume, Mummy. The school said I should have work experience.”

”Of course,” she said, sitting up straight and pursing her lips. Mummy's eyes narrowed. She could tell there was something different about Sara. ”You're so lucky to be going to college in the 80s. Women in my generation didn't think of building resumes.” She raised her chin and looked down her nose. ”But you're not even able to return my phone calls, so I can imagine how hectic your life is. I've just been so worried about you that I hadn't been sleeping, and Paul suggested coming in tonight to make sure you're still alive. Not that you seem to appreciate it.”

Paul squeezed her hand across the table, a pillar of support for the poor woman who lost sleep because her daughter wouldn't call her.

”Oh, and here,” Mummy said, pulling an envelope out of her purse. Sara took it. It was unsealed. It was empty. It was addressed to Mummy.

”Now you can mail me the key to your apartment like I asked you to.”

”I haven't had one made yet,” Sara said, tucking the envelope into her back pocket.

”Sara,” Mummy said, bristling, ”you need to start being responsible.” More people turned toward them. Sara narrowed her eyes, giving Mummy a slight smile. Mummy faltered a moment, looking like a startled reptile.

That's right, Mummy. It doesn't work. You thought you'd humiliate me in front of the crowd, didn't you? And you're surprised I'm not giving in, agreeing to whatever you want just so I could escape. But I'll take you on. I'll take 'em all on.

”It ... ” Mummy said. ”It isn't like you have any real problems in life; you're just a spoiled suburban girl. You should easily have been able to take care of it by now. What if you lose your key and can't get into your apartment? What if I need to bring you something and you're not home? I'm trying to help you, but you can't even have a key made.”

”I told you. I'm busy. I have to go back to the kitchen now.”

Mummy's face was slack. Her mouth hung open for a moment before she locked her jaw and straightened her back. ”Fine,” she said. ”You just go on back in, Sara, and don't forget to call Mummy once in a while.”

Sara turned to go back to the kitchen.

”Oh, and be sure to tell your father I said h.e.l.lo.”