3. Sally

Itake a moment as I step into the cold night air. I find a quiet spot where passersby can’t see me and take the time to let the tears dry themselves out. My mind is racing with thoughts of Dad, but also with the cost of the operation. I don’t know how I’m going to figure it out but one thing is obvious to me. No matter what the cost, it is worth it to have my Dad around as long as I can.

As I steady myself against the wall, I realize the time. I wish I were home, my real home, Mom’s and Dad”s. In my mind’s eye, it’s Saturday night, the best night of all. Dad’s off work, and he’s making me tuna sandwiches with a side of potato chips. I’m allowed to stay up late. Mom and Dad are on the couch, and I am on the floor in front of the TV.

My mom and dad laugh, and I laugh as well, even if I don’t understand the joke on the TV show they are laughing at. It feels good, all three of us laughing together. I remember thinking that I wished all this would last forever and that I would never grow up. Never leave the warmth and comfort of my home.

A car horn snaps me back into the world where everything has gone wrong, and I realize I’m late for my second job. I quickly turn and walk into a man wearing a dark suit carrying a brown briefcase.

“Careful, lady,” he snaps at me.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him, but I see only anger in his eyes.

“Instead of being sorry, why don’t you watch where you’re going? Then you wouldn’t have to say sorry all the time,” he hisses.

I want to cry again, but instead, I push past him, knocking him off balance. I take pleasure watching him trying not to fall on the pavement, waving his stupid briefcase in the air.

“Sorry!” I shout to him as I hurry up the street to the parking lot and the ever-faithful Matilda, who is waiting for me.

I settle into my car and say my usual prayer for Matilda to start, and the old girl does. I whizz out of the hospital lot, trying to catch up with the time I’ve now lost.

Thankfully, there’s a parking space outside the restaurant. I squeeze Matilda into it and rustle in the back seat to grab my server’s apron and hair band. Damn, the restaurant is busy. That’s all I need, I think as I jump out of the car.

It’s going to be another night of being rushed off my feet, but at least time goes quicker that way. Well, I try to convince myself, anyway.

I rush through the door and make my way through to the back.

“Hey, Sally,” Vera, one of the waitresses, calls out to me.

“Hi, Vera,” I call back with a wave.

I reach the bar, make my way round the back, and then through the door to the staff end of the restaurant. I try to creep past Alan’s office.

“You’re late!” Alan shouts as I pass.

“Sorry, Alan,” I call back. “Won’t happen again.”

“You said that the last time,” he shouts.

I push the changing room door, put my purse and coat in the locker, draw my hair back with my hairband, and put on my apron. I look at myself in the mirror, ensuring my makeup hasn’t run from the tears. I practice my smile and tell myself not to worry about Dad.

The restaurant is packed, loud, and chaotic as ever, with servers running back and forth with trays full of food and drinks. I walk over to check on one of my tables. It’s a rich-looking family. The mother is in a beautiful outfit. The father is wearing an expensive suit and looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. Their two kids, a boy, and a girl, of course, are staring at their phones. It’s one of those families by design only.

“Everything alright?” It’s the question I ask that I only want one answer to.

“Not exactly,” the mother says with a stern look on her face. That’s the answer I don’t want.

“Oh, sorry, what seems to be the problem?” I ask in the best tone I can muster.

“Harry’s chips are hard,” she tells me.

I look at the young boy dutifully ignoring the interaction and instead killing aliens on his phone. “Oh, I’m sorry about that.”

“That’s not Harry. Harry is my husband, and his chips are hard, but Julius’s are fine,” the mother says.

I look at the husband, who has his head lowered in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry about that, sir. Let me get you some fresh ones,” I tell him as if talking to a child.

“Thank you,” he mumbles back.

“He’ll need a fresh steak as well,” the woman continues, just when I thought she was done.

I look at his plate and notice that he has already eaten it. The husband lowers his head even further. I really want to say something, but you know what? I have more important things to worry about.

“No problem, let me sort that out for you,” I say as I reach over and take the plate away. I smile and head back to the kitchen.

“I’ll need a fresh steak and chips. It’s a return,” I call out to Gustav, the orc chef, who immediately stops what he is doing and comes over.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asks. He takes pride in the food he serves.

“Chips are hard,” I tell him.

“What’s wrong with the steak?” Gustav asks, picking up one of the chips.

“He’s eaten it,” I say sarcastically.

“These chips are fine,” Gustav says, anger flashing on his face. He hands me one, and I take a bite.

“I agree. That is a great chip if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep you some ragu back to take home with you. You look like you could do with a decent meal,” Gustav says. He’s a kind sort for an orc.

“Thank you, Gustav,” I say as he heads back to his station.

“Hey, Dennis, steak medium, I’ll do the chips,” he calls out.

“Yes, chef!” Dennis shouts out.

While I’m waiting, I grab a drink of water. I’d prefer a large glass of ice-cold white wine, but Alan wouldn’t be too happy about that.

“How are you holding up?” It’s Vera.

“I’m here, you?” I ask.

She takes a plastic bottle with her name on it from the staff fridge and shakes it in front of me.

“Vodka is how I am holding up,” Vera says as she takes a gulp. “Want some?”

“I’m good. I got school in the morning,” I reply.

“I’ve no idea how you do it, girl, but you do, and hats off to you for that,” Vera says.

“Well, that’s the thing, I think I need a third job,” I confess.

“Seriously?” Vera asks.

“‘Fraid so, long story,” I reply.

“Well, in that case, you are in luck, girl,” Vera tells me. “I heard about this job. It’s at that golf club, what’s the name? The Sycamore. That’s it. They offered it to me, but I’m too busy. It’s really good money, but I’m banging this orc, and girl, and after one of his five-hour sessions, I honestly can’t walk. Banging an orc is the only second job I want right now..”

Without thinking too much about Vera and her orc toyboy, I quickly answer. “Tell them I’ll do it.”

“You sure?” Vera asks.

“Yes, I really need the extra cash,” I tell her.

“Okay, here’s the number. It starts in two days,” Vera says as she hands me a napkin with the number scribbled on it.

“Order up, Sally!” Gustav calls from the kitchen.

“Thanks, Vera, I owe you one,” I call out to her as I hurry to the pass to pick up the order.

Picking up the fresh steak and chips, I make my way through the busy restaurant, weaving in and out of the tables as I go.

Reaching the table, I notice the family with coats on, ready to go.

“Here you are,” I say with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. I put the tray down on the table.

“We’ll have that to go, please,” the mother says, “Oh, and the bill as well. I trust we won’t be paying for Harry’s meal. Those hard chips ruined our family night out. Harry is devastated.”

I look at Harry, who still refuses to make eye contact with me, crippled by the embarrassment of his lovely wife’s actions.

“Okay, not a problem. One doggy bag is coming up, and I’ll sort out that deduction from your bill,” I tell her.

So I hurry off to sort her doggy bag, hoping the chips will be hard on the journey home.

“Alan, table seven wants a meal removed. Said it wasn’t up to standard,” I call out.

Alan appears in a flash. “Really? What dish?” he says.

“This one that I had remade for them. It’s now in a doggy bag to take home,” I explain, rolling my eyes.

I watch as Alan looks out into the restaurant floor and turns back with rage boiling on his face. “Her. Again.”

“She’s done this before?” I ask.

“She does it all the time in all the restaurants in town. If we don’t give in to her, she writes us up on Eat Advisor. She has so many followers that a bad review can shut a restaurant down,” Alan explains.

“I guess I’ll make that reduction,” I say.

“No, on the house. I can’t risk it, Sally,” Alan says.

“Whatever you say,” I tell him as I approach her with her doggy bag.

I hand the bag to her, and she snatches it from me. “About time.”

“I’m happy to tell you that your meal is on the house. The manager sends his apologies,” I tell her.

“And don’t be expecting a tip,” the mother says as she turns and marches her family out the door. I stand and watch. I needed that tip. I need every tip. As they reach the door, the father turns round and mouths, ‘Sorry.’

But a sorry won’t pay for my dad’s operation, and it’s closing time soon.