Part Eight A [I] It Doesn't Mean
Much[/I]*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
DING!
The ringing of the bell at the grill and Alex's cheerful shout that an order was up snaps me back to the present. I'm back with an order pad still motionless in my hand, staring at nothing as the dirty table in front of me comes into focus.
Um, yea, anyways. I did say it got better right? Jeez, look what happens when you live in your head. I spent my entire shift in la-la land, contemplating this past week. Sigh, MUST I always go off on a tangent?
Oh, well.
I'm just finishing up my shift, scooping up the generous change off of my now departed table.
Hmm, perhaps there ARE some perks to this whole waitress thing. And once I got over my fear of approaching the customers (still yet to work on the eye thingy), it pretty much all flew from there.
Because what I forgot about waitresses, is that the customers DON'T CARE about whether or not you're "sociably acceptable" or not. To them, your just here to drop off a plate off greasy food, and that's that. It's not that big of deal. It does mean much; it never has. They don't even remember your name, to them you are known perpetually as "Excuse me," or "Miss."
But still, after the whole fiasco with richy rich, it still took me a while to get into the swing of things.
So, yea, that's what this week has consisted of. Learning the trade, so to speak. Pretty much uneventful, just what I expected from this town.
Alex dings the bell again, and Isabel rolls her eyes at him, yet smiles as she picks up her order. Alex tips an imaginary hat at her, grinning, grinning, grinning.
That boy is so weird. And yet, I can't help but smirk at the sight.
What?
He sort of grows on you. His patented wide grin and quirky humor is quite refreshing in the world today. Plus, he just doesn't give a damn about what other people think about him.
Hmm.
I'm still watching Alex, as his trademark grin is slowly fading into something a little more.shall we say.SAPPY. I narrow my eyes in suspicion, noticing that his gaze is unwavering from Isabel.
IN-TERES-TING.
The dorky yet lovable Alex Whitman has a thing for the beautiful yet cold Isabel Evans.
Umm, yea I said Evans. My face enflames as I remember how I had originally thought that Max and Isabel were.umm TOGETHER. Ew. Incest. My mind is way too morbid for words. But they don't look alike, so how was I supposed to know? But, I must admit, I am somewhat relieved. And NO it is not for the reason you think. Max is way too.I don't know.NICE for starters, to be WITH Isabel.
Well, so is Alex for that matter. I sigh. Why is it that guys always go for the icy popular type with the super model build? It leaves us homely types slightly miffed.
Not that I am looking for a guy. No Siree, definitely NOT going down that road.
But I digress. I have noticed the Alex/Isabel obsession over the last week, and Maria has even commented on it.
[I]"God, Alex, you're like a little puppy dog in heat where Izzy is concerned," Maria snorted in amusement.
"Hey! I prefer more manly comments than that Maria. You're bruising my male ego. It's very tender. Please, either boost it up, or leave it alone." Alex pantomimed.
I had shaken my head. "I don't get it," I muttered to myself, but Alex had heard me anyways.
"You just got to chip away at the ice around her heart. Because, in all actuality, Isabel is a great person." Alex trailed off, and I noticed that, even though he was speaking to Maria and me, his gaze was upon Isabel the entire time.[/I]
I don't know. I never do.
You know what would be nice? If life included little captions or subtitles, so us hapless viewers could know what the hell is going on at times.
No, instead, we are supposed to be INTUITIVE, to relay on instinct, and ambiguity like FEELINGS.
Too bad that my talents in those departments, shall we say, for lack of better terms, urm, suck the big one.
Suck the big one.
Who comes UP with this stuff? Eww, I don't even want to contemplate the hidden meaning in that one.
I threw a hasty glance back over my shoulder at the clock.
And instead, am blocked by the torso of Max Evans.
Hmm, Max. Interesting guy to say the least. This past week, we had meaningless conversations about whatnot, but his answers had been short, yet profound. He made you THINK. Spending a shift with him was typically uneventful, yet rarely boring.
And I've caught him staring in my general area numerous times again. It's kind of unsettling. I asked Maria about him (careful not to mention specifics, least she get the wrong idea.), and she assuaged my assumptions in replying that he had always been an observant silent type.
He's staring back at me, and I flush, realizing that whilst I was lost in my thoughts, I had most likely been staring at him for the past few minutes.
Whoops.
I blink, and crane my neck to see the clock. He notices and helpfully supplies (and how nice of him too, since his damn broad shoulders are blocking my view. I'm likely to strain my neck in my efforts to see around him) "Our shifts done. You can relinquish your duties to Maria when you're done."
Thank you captain obvious.
Ahem. Sorry. I should be getting less bitter and cynical now that things are looking up slightly. Hmm, tilting upwards would be more precise.
But I can't help but feel that it's the calm before the storm. You know, quit while your ahead type of deal. I try to shake off my foreboding, but I cant help but remember how that bastard more kindly referred to as hope, has screwed me over in the past (exactly one week ago, actually).
I sigh silently. If you THINK like that, its BOUND to happen like that. It's like the little engine that could. He thinks he can, therefore he will.
Okay, horrendous example. Lets try this again.
Urm, I'm drawing a blank. Aww, hell, I was never one to waste words so here it is, cut and dry (cut and dry. Humph. Another saying that I have no idea what it really means or where it came from. Its just one of those things you say without thinking about its definition, as you have heard it a trillion times before in a similar statement. Hm, so much for not wasting any words.)
If I believe that everything will turn out badly, then life will nod its head in agreement with me and prove me right.
Then again, when I was younger and had the sad, sad illusion that everything in life was flowers and roses, life pointed and laughed while it went ahead on proved me drastically wrong.
Ahg. Someone save me from my thoughts. I look up from my musings to find that Max is still standing there, a faint smile on his face. I am immediately wary. "What," I ask suspiciously.
To my surprise, Max grins. Not in the "I'm so happy to be alive, must be on Prozac" kind of grin that Alex oh so cheerfully sports, nor in the evil, "I've got ulterior motives, you are so going to regret what is going on in my mind," kind of way that Maria does (in which you would sprint hastily for the exit if she was tossing the grin your way, or sit back with a smirk as you watched her poor helpless fool of victim, usually Michael), and not in the impish, lopsided way the Michael has, but in this slow, easy going way that is.it's just.
In a MAX kind of way.
Sigh. Glorious description on my part. Jeez, for someone who always has something to say (sardonically or not, but most of the time, its sardonically) I sure have found myself at a loss for words.
And a loss of sanity. God, what is WRONG with me?
"You looked pretty deep in thought just there. I didn't know that my statement about relinquishing your shift to Maria would require so much contemplation." He teased softly.
Funny guy, this Max. Frickin hilarious.
And yet I find my lips curving into a sarcastic smile. Because it is SO something I would say.
Urm, well at least it is something that I would THINK. Actually voicing my real opinions for once would be new territory for me.
"Actually, I was just searching for a sense of something miraculous in everyday life," I say wittingly, rolling my eyes. Did I just say that out loud? Whoo, she speaks!
Yea, heard that cheesy line in a movie once. Another one of those things that doesn't entirely make sense, and yet you use it anyways.
He laughs. And for once, the sound of laughter doesn't trigger the echoing sound of mocking and taunts from the sickening past. Its.GENUINE.the kind of laugh you hear within a circle of friends, joking easily. Something that I have seen, but never been a part of. The only way I ever had that type of thing was in my wild imagination. It's.nice.
Whoo, Ms. Brilliant Adjective strikes again. I so need a thesaurus. 'It was NICE.' What a pathetic word. Its something you use when someone asks you what they think of their horrendous tacky Popsicle ornament with the glue gobbed on the ends, and you, being the oh so tactful person you are, respond in a sweet, offhand tone, Oh, that's NICE. While all the while you are thinking, "What in the name of pantyhose were you thinking? My poor eyes, having to see a disaster of such magnitude."
Lord. I think waaaay too much. Someone stop the madness that is my brain. Anyhoo, I'll get back to that 'nice' thing later, when I think of a better word. And I say this for the dim among you (hopefully the rest of you all ready knew of this but) don't hold your breath.
Yes, well, after laughing nicely (Mr. Thesaurus here I come.), Max gave his excellent reply. A reply that will go into many books, that will cause him to be on numerous talk shows (After the audience hears about who cheated on whom, and which Hollywood star is dubbed the worst dress. Lord knows we couldn't live with out that useful information. Never mind that the ozone layer is breaking, that urban sprawl is overtaking the world, no, no, as long as we know that Mary Sues Twin Dresses like a Slut and She Hates It, than the world will continue to go round), a reply that will be forever quoted (if not already).
You want to know what it was? You do? Well, now how did I guess.
"See you later," he said, before smiling slightly and walking out the door to do God knows what.
Bloody Brilliant.
And yet, I found myself looking after him.
[I]See you later.[/I] Part Eight B [I] It doesn't Mean Much [/I]~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I shake my head ridiculously, and turn away from the door. It's been five freaking minutes and I am still staring out at the direction in which he left.
Why?
Good question. If anyone figures it out, feel free to call me up and shine some light on the darkness.
Anyhoo.
Back to work.
Scratch that. Back to the task of convincing Maria, that, yes indeed, it would be her shift as of now. I swear, that girl has so many excuses as to why she gets five extra minutes. Heh, one time she even went as far as setting back all the clocks in a desperate attempt to gain a little time.
I maneuver around a throng of customers and tables (Honestly, we waitress could be in the Olympics or something with all the flexibility that we require to avoid blundering and falling on our antennae's) and make my way to the back. Pushing through the swinging doors, I stop.
And promptly go to turn around.
Whoops.
Hmm, perhaps another character flaw of mine is my horrendous sense of timing. But really, that isn't a character flaw. More like bad luck, or being born under a bad sign.
Or maybe, as I often suspect, Big Guy up there just doesn't like me.
Yea, that's it.
So I bet your wondering just what in the HELL is going on. Hmm, me too. Now I KNOW that Michael and Maria aren't going to win Couple Of The Year anytime soon (i.e. when hell freezes over. Finally. An expression that makes even the tiniest iota of sense), but still. You can tell they love each other and all that shit, even if Michael would rather poke his eye out, or declare that he's an alien to the world (Heh, I'm getting this small town humor thing down pat.) then admit it. You can just tell.
Erm, well you would have been able to tell had you met them prior to the World War III I just walked in on. Hence my "whoops."
Yes, Maria and Michael are fighting. No surprise you say? I beg to differ. See, the bickering that everyone in Roswell is usually subjected to hearing that goes on between them, I have a theory about it. Its pure sexual frustration. In a weird, twisted way, it's how they vocalize their love, attraction, or whatever for each other. It can be cute. It can be revolting. But its usually not so..
"MICHAEL GUERIN! I SWEAR TO GOD I AM GOING TO PLUCK OUT YOUR EYES AND SHOVE THEM DOWN YOUR PANTS, SO YOU CAN WATCH ME KICK YOUR ASS!"
Hostile and well.
[I]scary[/I] .
"Maria, I'm SORRY," Michael says in a low voice. Hmm, Standoffish Man is contrite. Maybe this will be some fun.
"Just get AWAY from me right now! I don't even want to LOOK at you!" Maria is now near tears. Oh God. Maybe not.
"Maria, I."
"GO!"
Erm, has anyone else noticed that I am still standing in the doorway, eavesdropping? Yea, well, Maria just did, as she went to point Michael in the direction of where to go (ya know, incase he didn't hear her the first time. But unfortunately, as I have the door open, the whole RESTAURANT heard them. Hell the whole TOWN heard them. I wouldn't be surprised if Pam Troy in Chicago heard them. But enough. Not going there tonight)
Maria's face turns a light shade of pink as she notices me standing there stupidly.
Umm, hi.what's up?
Brilliant on my part, I say, "Umm.maybe I should just." And gesture to the door. Very literate. So glad I took English, boy I tell ya.
Thankfully, Maria speaks Dumb-ass (or wait, is it Michael whose fluent in that? But I don't know, as I have no clue to what he's done.), and she shakes her head hysterically.
See I should have known better. I SHOULD have just backed away slowly at the first sign of danger and let Michael handle her (he might of possibly been reduced to shreds in the end, but hey. Every man for himself. HERSELF. Lord, where are my feminist views? I would rant about that particular chauvinistic phrase, but I beg your pardon, I am faced with a Red Hot Maria as of now).
But instead, I just stand there as she shrieks hysterically. "NO! Go right ahead! There's nothing for you to walk in on, as there is NOTHING between Michael and me anymore,"
Michael sighed loudly. "Maria, I told you I was."
Maria just proceeded to stalk past me (after snatching up my pen. But hell, I aint about to go get it back! Would you?), and scrub furiously at a nearby table. Hmm, that would be the busboys job, but again. Be my guest. I'm not about to tell her different.
Michael rolls his eyes and tries one more time as she pushes past him to grab an order. "Maria."
She just shakes her head vehemently, blonde waves flying around her face. Hmm, that cant be good for the food that she's carrying. It's quite revolting to find hairs in your food, especially ones that aren't yours.
But once more, I'm not going to say anything.
It's like a car wreck. You can't help but crane out your neck and look. (My morbid mind strikes again.)
Michael growls in frustration (growls?) and mutters something along the lines of "whatever," and slams out the door. Maria's head shoots up and she gazes incredulously after him.
"I can't believe he left!"
Again, I choose not to comment.
Wait a minute! Wasn't Michael supposed to help us out and waitress today? Urm, waiter today? No wait, that's not it. Aww, hell wasn't he supposed to help serve people today (eww, [I]server[/I] Lord, get my mind out of the gutter. Hmm, perhaps this is why the Big Guy up there hates me. Finally. An explanation)
Apparently, this just hits Maria. I don't think she actually expected him to listen to her, as he was supposed to work. Poor girl. My heart squeezes as I catch a glimpse of her crestfallen face.
"OO! The NERVE of him! Now what am I supposed to do? Serve the entire dinner rush by myself?" Well she's obviously not TOO torn up about it, if she can still rage to no one in particular (LOUDLY might I add.). But then, that might just be a coping mechanism.
Sigh. I was going to fold my socks tonight too.
Oh well.
What else can I do? Its obvious she is going to need help. She and Alex cant handle things alone. And she might.I don't know.need someone to rant TO.instead of what she is doing now, which is talking angrily to the air. Or, if she's really on a roll, to old Mrs. So and So, who only wants her check, but instead must listen helplessly as Maria goes on and on and on and on.("That's awful dearie, but Mr. is expecting me home, so if you could.)
And I could possibly do that. Listen, I mean, not talk to air, or Mrs. So and So. And I don't know, COMFORT?
Except I suck at comfort. But it's the thought that counts right? And ever since Maria thrust out a helping hand (LAME phrase, but it seems to fit.) last week as I struggled to hold on to NOTHING.
Well, I've been anxious to return the favor.
"Hey Maria?"
She turns a tearful face towards me. "Yea.?" She sniffles.
"I work Michael's shift with you.that is, if you want." Oh God, here I go making a fool of myself. Again. Whoo hoo, stop the presses (always wanted to say that. But I don't know particularly WHY)
Oh my God. I just repeated one of Max's phrases. [I]If you want[/I] I am now Max Evans. Oh my freaking God. I'm starting to have a mini freak out about the MEANING behind that, when I remember to focus on the current crisis. I lock the moment away in my mind for later contemplation.
She inhales in hope. And then deflates. "But you just worked an entire shift before this," She protests weakly.
I shake my head. "S'okay. I have nothing better to anyway. And we can sneak ice cream while you vent in between dead spots, ok?" I attempt to smile. Wow, haven't done that in a while. But surprise! I still remember how (I think)!
She gives me a wavering smile. "'Kay," She says. But I notice that she is slightly perkier when going up to the next customer. I sigh and shake my head. Guess my socks will have to wait, huh. Darn.
DING!
The ringing of the bell at the grill and Alex's cheerful shout that an order was up snaps me back to the present. I'm back with an order pad still motionless in my hand, staring at nothing as the dirty table in front of me comes into focus.
Um, yea, anyways. I did say it got better right? Jeez, look what happens when you live in your head. I spent my entire shift in la-la land, contemplating this past week. Sigh, MUST I always go off on a tangent?
Oh, well.
I'm just finishing up my shift, scooping up the generous change off of my now departed table.
Hmm, perhaps there ARE some perks to this whole waitress thing. And once I got over my fear of approaching the customers (still yet to work on the eye thingy), it pretty much all flew from there.
Because what I forgot about waitresses, is that the customers DON'T CARE about whether or not you're "sociably acceptable" or not. To them, your just here to drop off a plate off greasy food, and that's that. It's not that big of deal. It does mean much; it never has. They don't even remember your name, to them you are known perpetually as "Excuse me," or "Miss."
But still, after the whole fiasco with richy rich, it still took me a while to get into the swing of things.
So, yea, that's what this week has consisted of. Learning the trade, so to speak. Pretty much uneventful, just what I expected from this town.
Alex dings the bell again, and Isabel rolls her eyes at him, yet smiles as she picks up her order. Alex tips an imaginary hat at her, grinning, grinning, grinning.
That boy is so weird. And yet, I can't help but smirk at the sight.
What?
He sort of grows on you. His patented wide grin and quirky humor is quite refreshing in the world today. Plus, he just doesn't give a damn about what other people think about him.
Hmm.
I'm still watching Alex, as his trademark grin is slowly fading into something a little more.shall we say.SAPPY. I narrow my eyes in suspicion, noticing that his gaze is unwavering from Isabel.
IN-TERES-TING.
The dorky yet lovable Alex Whitman has a thing for the beautiful yet cold Isabel Evans.
Umm, yea I said Evans. My face enflames as I remember how I had originally thought that Max and Isabel were.umm TOGETHER. Ew. Incest. My mind is way too morbid for words. But they don't look alike, so how was I supposed to know? But, I must admit, I am somewhat relieved. And NO it is not for the reason you think. Max is way too.I don't know.NICE for starters, to be WITH Isabel.
Well, so is Alex for that matter. I sigh. Why is it that guys always go for the icy popular type with the super model build? It leaves us homely types slightly miffed.
Not that I am looking for a guy. No Siree, definitely NOT going down that road.
But I digress. I have noticed the Alex/Isabel obsession over the last week, and Maria has even commented on it.
[I]"God, Alex, you're like a little puppy dog in heat where Izzy is concerned," Maria snorted in amusement.
"Hey! I prefer more manly comments than that Maria. You're bruising my male ego. It's very tender. Please, either boost it up, or leave it alone." Alex pantomimed.
I had shaken my head. "I don't get it," I muttered to myself, but Alex had heard me anyways.
"You just got to chip away at the ice around her heart. Because, in all actuality, Isabel is a great person." Alex trailed off, and I noticed that, even though he was speaking to Maria and me, his gaze was upon Isabel the entire time.[/I]
I don't know. I never do.
You know what would be nice? If life included little captions or subtitles, so us hapless viewers could know what the hell is going on at times.
No, instead, we are supposed to be INTUITIVE, to relay on instinct, and ambiguity like FEELINGS.
Too bad that my talents in those departments, shall we say, for lack of better terms, urm, suck the big one.
Suck the big one.
Who comes UP with this stuff? Eww, I don't even want to contemplate the hidden meaning in that one.
I threw a hasty glance back over my shoulder at the clock.
And instead, am blocked by the torso of Max Evans.
Hmm, Max. Interesting guy to say the least. This past week, we had meaningless conversations about whatnot, but his answers had been short, yet profound. He made you THINK. Spending a shift with him was typically uneventful, yet rarely boring.
And I've caught him staring in my general area numerous times again. It's kind of unsettling. I asked Maria about him (careful not to mention specifics, least she get the wrong idea.), and she assuaged my assumptions in replying that he had always been an observant silent type.
He's staring back at me, and I flush, realizing that whilst I was lost in my thoughts, I had most likely been staring at him for the past few minutes.
Whoops.
I blink, and crane my neck to see the clock. He notices and helpfully supplies (and how nice of him too, since his damn broad shoulders are blocking my view. I'm likely to strain my neck in my efforts to see around him) "Our shifts done. You can relinquish your duties to Maria when you're done."
Thank you captain obvious.
Ahem. Sorry. I should be getting less bitter and cynical now that things are looking up slightly. Hmm, tilting upwards would be more precise.
But I can't help but feel that it's the calm before the storm. You know, quit while your ahead type of deal. I try to shake off my foreboding, but I cant help but remember how that bastard more kindly referred to as hope, has screwed me over in the past (exactly one week ago, actually).
I sigh silently. If you THINK like that, its BOUND to happen like that. It's like the little engine that could. He thinks he can, therefore he will.
Okay, horrendous example. Lets try this again.
Urm, I'm drawing a blank. Aww, hell, I was never one to waste words so here it is, cut and dry (cut and dry. Humph. Another saying that I have no idea what it really means or where it came from. Its just one of those things you say without thinking about its definition, as you have heard it a trillion times before in a similar statement. Hm, so much for not wasting any words.)
If I believe that everything will turn out badly, then life will nod its head in agreement with me and prove me right.
Then again, when I was younger and had the sad, sad illusion that everything in life was flowers and roses, life pointed and laughed while it went ahead on proved me drastically wrong.
Ahg. Someone save me from my thoughts. I look up from my musings to find that Max is still standing there, a faint smile on his face. I am immediately wary. "What," I ask suspiciously.
To my surprise, Max grins. Not in the "I'm so happy to be alive, must be on Prozac" kind of grin that Alex oh so cheerfully sports, nor in the evil, "I've got ulterior motives, you are so going to regret what is going on in my mind," kind of way that Maria does (in which you would sprint hastily for the exit if she was tossing the grin your way, or sit back with a smirk as you watched her poor helpless fool of victim, usually Michael), and not in the impish, lopsided way the Michael has, but in this slow, easy going way that is.it's just.
In a MAX kind of way.
Sigh. Glorious description on my part. Jeez, for someone who always has something to say (sardonically or not, but most of the time, its sardonically) I sure have found myself at a loss for words.
And a loss of sanity. God, what is WRONG with me?
"You looked pretty deep in thought just there. I didn't know that my statement about relinquishing your shift to Maria would require so much contemplation." He teased softly.
Funny guy, this Max. Frickin hilarious.
And yet I find my lips curving into a sarcastic smile. Because it is SO something I would say.
Urm, well at least it is something that I would THINK. Actually voicing my real opinions for once would be new territory for me.
"Actually, I was just searching for a sense of something miraculous in everyday life," I say wittingly, rolling my eyes. Did I just say that out loud? Whoo, she speaks!
Yea, heard that cheesy line in a movie once. Another one of those things that doesn't entirely make sense, and yet you use it anyways.
He laughs. And for once, the sound of laughter doesn't trigger the echoing sound of mocking and taunts from the sickening past. Its.GENUINE.the kind of laugh you hear within a circle of friends, joking easily. Something that I have seen, but never been a part of. The only way I ever had that type of thing was in my wild imagination. It's.nice.
Whoo, Ms. Brilliant Adjective strikes again. I so need a thesaurus. 'It was NICE.' What a pathetic word. Its something you use when someone asks you what they think of their horrendous tacky Popsicle ornament with the glue gobbed on the ends, and you, being the oh so tactful person you are, respond in a sweet, offhand tone, Oh, that's NICE. While all the while you are thinking, "What in the name of pantyhose were you thinking? My poor eyes, having to see a disaster of such magnitude."
Lord. I think waaaay too much. Someone stop the madness that is my brain. Anyhoo, I'll get back to that 'nice' thing later, when I think of a better word. And I say this for the dim among you (hopefully the rest of you all ready knew of this but) don't hold your breath.
Yes, well, after laughing nicely (Mr. Thesaurus here I come.), Max gave his excellent reply. A reply that will go into many books, that will cause him to be on numerous talk shows (After the audience hears about who cheated on whom, and which Hollywood star is dubbed the worst dress. Lord knows we couldn't live with out that useful information. Never mind that the ozone layer is breaking, that urban sprawl is overtaking the world, no, no, as long as we know that Mary Sues Twin Dresses like a Slut and She Hates It, than the world will continue to go round), a reply that will be forever quoted (if not already).
You want to know what it was? You do? Well, now how did I guess.
"See you later," he said, before smiling slightly and walking out the door to do God knows what.
Bloody Brilliant.
And yet, I found myself looking after him.
[I]See you later.[/I] Part Eight B [I] It doesn't Mean Much [/I]~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I shake my head ridiculously, and turn away from the door. It's been five freaking minutes and I am still staring out at the direction in which he left.
Why?
Good question. If anyone figures it out, feel free to call me up and shine some light on the darkness.
Anyhoo.
Back to work.
Scratch that. Back to the task of convincing Maria, that, yes indeed, it would be her shift as of now. I swear, that girl has so many excuses as to why she gets five extra minutes. Heh, one time she even went as far as setting back all the clocks in a desperate attempt to gain a little time.
I maneuver around a throng of customers and tables (Honestly, we waitress could be in the Olympics or something with all the flexibility that we require to avoid blundering and falling on our antennae's) and make my way to the back. Pushing through the swinging doors, I stop.
And promptly go to turn around.
Whoops.
Hmm, perhaps another character flaw of mine is my horrendous sense of timing. But really, that isn't a character flaw. More like bad luck, or being born under a bad sign.
Or maybe, as I often suspect, Big Guy up there just doesn't like me.
Yea, that's it.
So I bet your wondering just what in the HELL is going on. Hmm, me too. Now I KNOW that Michael and Maria aren't going to win Couple Of The Year anytime soon (i.e. when hell freezes over. Finally. An expression that makes even the tiniest iota of sense), but still. You can tell they love each other and all that shit, even if Michael would rather poke his eye out, or declare that he's an alien to the world (Heh, I'm getting this small town humor thing down pat.) then admit it. You can just tell.
Erm, well you would have been able to tell had you met them prior to the World War III I just walked in on. Hence my "whoops."
Yes, Maria and Michael are fighting. No surprise you say? I beg to differ. See, the bickering that everyone in Roswell is usually subjected to hearing that goes on between them, I have a theory about it. Its pure sexual frustration. In a weird, twisted way, it's how they vocalize their love, attraction, or whatever for each other. It can be cute. It can be revolting. But its usually not so..
"MICHAEL GUERIN! I SWEAR TO GOD I AM GOING TO PLUCK OUT YOUR EYES AND SHOVE THEM DOWN YOUR PANTS, SO YOU CAN WATCH ME KICK YOUR ASS!"
Hostile and well.
[I]scary[/I] .
"Maria, I'm SORRY," Michael says in a low voice. Hmm, Standoffish Man is contrite. Maybe this will be some fun.
"Just get AWAY from me right now! I don't even want to LOOK at you!" Maria is now near tears. Oh God. Maybe not.
"Maria, I."
"GO!"
Erm, has anyone else noticed that I am still standing in the doorway, eavesdropping? Yea, well, Maria just did, as she went to point Michael in the direction of where to go (ya know, incase he didn't hear her the first time. But unfortunately, as I have the door open, the whole RESTAURANT heard them. Hell the whole TOWN heard them. I wouldn't be surprised if Pam Troy in Chicago heard them. But enough. Not going there tonight)
Maria's face turns a light shade of pink as she notices me standing there stupidly.
Umm, hi.what's up?
Brilliant on my part, I say, "Umm.maybe I should just." And gesture to the door. Very literate. So glad I took English, boy I tell ya.
Thankfully, Maria speaks Dumb-ass (or wait, is it Michael whose fluent in that? But I don't know, as I have no clue to what he's done.), and she shakes her head hysterically.
See I should have known better. I SHOULD have just backed away slowly at the first sign of danger and let Michael handle her (he might of possibly been reduced to shreds in the end, but hey. Every man for himself. HERSELF. Lord, where are my feminist views? I would rant about that particular chauvinistic phrase, but I beg your pardon, I am faced with a Red Hot Maria as of now).
But instead, I just stand there as she shrieks hysterically. "NO! Go right ahead! There's nothing for you to walk in on, as there is NOTHING between Michael and me anymore,"
Michael sighed loudly. "Maria, I told you I was."
Maria just proceeded to stalk past me (after snatching up my pen. But hell, I aint about to go get it back! Would you?), and scrub furiously at a nearby table. Hmm, that would be the busboys job, but again. Be my guest. I'm not about to tell her different.
Michael rolls his eyes and tries one more time as she pushes past him to grab an order. "Maria."
She just shakes her head vehemently, blonde waves flying around her face. Hmm, that cant be good for the food that she's carrying. It's quite revolting to find hairs in your food, especially ones that aren't yours.
But once more, I'm not going to say anything.
It's like a car wreck. You can't help but crane out your neck and look. (My morbid mind strikes again.)
Michael growls in frustration (growls?) and mutters something along the lines of "whatever," and slams out the door. Maria's head shoots up and she gazes incredulously after him.
"I can't believe he left!"
Again, I choose not to comment.
Wait a minute! Wasn't Michael supposed to help us out and waitress today? Urm, waiter today? No wait, that's not it. Aww, hell wasn't he supposed to help serve people today (eww, [I]server[/I] Lord, get my mind out of the gutter. Hmm, perhaps this is why the Big Guy up there hates me. Finally. An explanation)
Apparently, this just hits Maria. I don't think she actually expected him to listen to her, as he was supposed to work. Poor girl. My heart squeezes as I catch a glimpse of her crestfallen face.
"OO! The NERVE of him! Now what am I supposed to do? Serve the entire dinner rush by myself?" Well she's obviously not TOO torn up about it, if she can still rage to no one in particular (LOUDLY might I add.). But then, that might just be a coping mechanism.
Sigh. I was going to fold my socks tonight too.
Oh well.
What else can I do? Its obvious she is going to need help. She and Alex cant handle things alone. And she might.I don't know.need someone to rant TO.instead of what she is doing now, which is talking angrily to the air. Or, if she's really on a roll, to old Mrs. So and So, who only wants her check, but instead must listen helplessly as Maria goes on and on and on and on.("That's awful dearie, but Mr. is expecting me home, so if you could.)
And I could possibly do that. Listen, I mean, not talk to air, or Mrs. So and So. And I don't know, COMFORT?
Except I suck at comfort. But it's the thought that counts right? And ever since Maria thrust out a helping hand (LAME phrase, but it seems to fit.) last week as I struggled to hold on to NOTHING.
Well, I've been anxious to return the favor.
"Hey Maria?"
She turns a tearful face towards me. "Yea.?" She sniffles.
"I work Michael's shift with you.that is, if you want." Oh God, here I go making a fool of myself. Again. Whoo hoo, stop the presses (always wanted to say that. But I don't know particularly WHY)
Oh my God. I just repeated one of Max's phrases. [I]If you want[/I] I am now Max Evans. Oh my freaking God. I'm starting to have a mini freak out about the MEANING behind that, when I remember to focus on the current crisis. I lock the moment away in my mind for later contemplation.
She inhales in hope. And then deflates. "But you just worked an entire shift before this," She protests weakly.
I shake my head. "S'okay. I have nothing better to anyway. And we can sneak ice cream while you vent in between dead spots, ok?" I attempt to smile. Wow, haven't done that in a while. But surprise! I still remember how (I think)!
She gives me a wavering smile. "'Kay," She says. But I notice that she is slightly perkier when going up to the next customer. I sigh and shake my head. Guess my socks will have to wait, huh. Darn.