Gina
Fileppi sighed as she blew a strand of her long brown hair out of her face. As
she took yet another order in the chock-full Harvest Moon Café in the center of
New Orleans she let her mind wander from thinking about all of the different
types of dressing to put on a petite woman's salad to go back to thinking about
that couple that were once regulars at the gourmet café.
God, I hate my job. Waitressing must be every sadists dream
profession. On your feet all day, crude customers yelling about their orders,
and then the tips have seemed to disappear right along with the theory of the
sun revolving around the earth.
She pushed the heavy wooden doors leading to the kitchen with her butt
as she struggled to balance the remains of about twenty plates.
"Are
the wings for table 13 done yet?" She asked Frank the cook as she tried to
re-gain her composure.
"Right
here Gina, you came back just in time."
"Thanks."
She said as she balanced the tray on the palm of her hand and walked out of the
swinging doors into the crowed café.
Smiling
at a few people she knew along the way, she made her way over to the table 9
full of men and sat down the steaming plate of hot wings. She laughed as she
looked around and saw each of them rub their hands together and look longingly
at the pieces of meat on the table.
"Just
let me know if there's anything else I can get you."
Gina rolled her eyes and shook her head at the childishness that she was
witnessing in the grown men and thought about how cool it was that they could
still do that even though they all looked to be at least twenty-two years. old.
The
little café hardly ever saw anyone but the regulars; mostly they were just
lonely people looking for some solace and some familiarity in their lives. She
had to admit, she enjoyed their company as much as they enjoyed ours.
Okay, I'm off the point. I love to watch customers, most
specifically, the customers that reoccur like clockwork. There's one couple
that comes in at least once a week and grabs a meal. It's either lunch or
dinner, depending on their schedules.
He's a suit man. Perfectly pressed and creased, in
three-piece setups that probably cost more than my car. He's stubborn and
protective, and I think he has trouble relating to people at times. This guy is
also tall, probably around six feet, with silver-blond hair and steel-gray
eyes. He's good-looking, there's no doubt. I think he might be a corporate
worker or work somewhere in the government; the suits never lie. Those are
power suits, suits made to get attention and say, "I'm in charge."
Deep down, I think he's got a spy fantasy. Everytime he's
dressed the same, no matter what the weather: it's a tan trenchcoat and a fedora. No, I'm not kidding. Trenchcoat and
fedora like an old Dick Tracey comic. What makes him different is that he can
pull it off. Very, very well; if he wasn't with that Marine all the time I'd
make a move.
Ah, the Marine, the other half of the two peas in a pod.
She's short, five feet barely, and has this hair that has to be a bitch to comb
out. I've seen it down a couple of times, and it's long and red and thick. Most
of the time she comes in wearing her uniform, and I've served them enough to
notice the oak leaves on her collar. She's a Major, and from the snippets of
conversation I've picked up, she's also a lawyer with the gigantic law firm in
Falls Church. I love strong women, of course, it helps that I am one.
I watch these two like some people watch kittens play.
They're so cute together it makes me sick. He's so secretive, even his body
language shows it; the way he crosses his arms and gets that half-exasperated
look in his eyes when you don't get something just lets you know you he's got
stuff you shouldn't know.
The Marine's another story. She's got her own secrets, I can
tell, but she's got more openness to her. I nicknamed her a "hand-talker";
one of those people who always gesture- that's her. Amazingly, she can be
eating the sloppiest thing on the menu, gesture around with the food on her
fork, and not get a drop of sauce on her uniform. Must be that Marine training.
Their interaction is amazing. I still remember one time, it
was a slower night, and I positioned myself at a table in view of them so I
could watch.
Suit-boy was rubbing the back of his neck, eyes tired, and
the suit looking a little crumpled, and I could tell by the way he stared at
the tabletop, it wasn't good news he was relaying.
The Marine sat in her seat, not moving except for rubbing his
other arm that was lying across the table and she nodded as he spoke. Her face
collapsed as he finished his part of the conversation, and the hand stopped
moving.
He looked up, finally, and I saw the fear in his eyes. She
just reached for his other hand and squeezed it. I watched her lips move, and
caught the word 'better' at the end of her sentence. Probably something like
'It'll get better' or 'We'll make it better'; I don't know. I do know that he
did smile after she said it, and I heard the word 'naïve' as the restaurant
settled down into quiet for a minute.
A naïve Marine, isn't that an oxymoron?
They talk about sleep a lot. I pick that up when I give them
their food. He usually mentions needing to sleep more, and she agrees he needs
to, but it's not idle conversation like most people. They take the sleep thing
very seriously. Maybe his job makes it hard, guilt or something.
Idle conversation is something they never do. The weather is
never mentioned, neither is gossip or how the latest Spielberg film is doing.
These two have some very serious conversations. Whatever the suit does, I know
it requires travel and secrecy, and I know that the Marine goes with it because
she wants to be with him. She travels a lot too, and when one or the other
isn't in town, the other comes to eat anyway. It's sweet, like they're trying
to hold on to each other when they're not there.
But lately, a bit to my dismay they haven't been coming much.
And when they have it was never together. Either the Marine's there alone,
looking annoyed and slightly melancholy as she stirs her latte and picks at her
food. Or Suit-boy smoking at least a pack of cigarettes in ten minutes
meanwhile acting just as lonely-looking as the once-stiff Marine.
I wonder what happened to them? Had they suddenly broke off
they're close relationship? Had it been due to something non-personal? I doubt
it though, but whatever the case they still look as if Hell was raised in-front
of their faces.
Glancing at her watch, a little while later, Gina smiled as she realized her shift was almost over. It had been a rough night, although she had had fun with a couple tables, joking back and forth. As she was going to check on table 9 one more time, she was motioned over to another table. Gina groaned inwardly as she realized it was the college jerks that she waited on every Friday and Saturday night. Sucking up, she went over to the table with a smile on her face.