Chapter 22: The daily grind

December came with a flurry of snow. A week passed, and Basta continued his work at VanDosen's restaurant. Between waiting tables and running deliveries with Daniel, he had proved to be a hard worker, and earned his pay. Basta had also earned Julie and Adriana's trust, and he was included in more family activities. By December 12th, Basta was more or less part of the family.

"Mum, Sylvie is crying again" called Martin from the living room. He was sitting on the couch, practicing his arithmetic. Basta was in the kitchen with the women, cutting vegetables for the soup.

"I can hear that, Martin!" said Julie. She sounded extremely tired, and Basta noticed rings around the lady's eyes. She appeared to be older, and more stressed. Adriana sighed as she washed potatoes in the sink. "I'll go see what's wrong." She sighed heavily and wiped her hands on her apron, before walking briskly towards her daughter.

"She's been so fussy lately" commented Basta as he looked over his shoulder at the baby, who sat on the floor crying.

"I think her teeth might be hurting" said Adriana. She passed a potato to Basta to cut. He used the knife skilfully and quickly, dicing the potatoes as if they were butter. Basta had nothing to add to Adriana's comment. He really didn't know anything about babies. Suddenly Suzanne walked into the living room, holding a paper script in her hand. She walked across the floor with her head bend over the papers, murmuring to herself and bobbing her head. Basta smiled to himself.

"How are the lines coming?" he asked the girl, who was rehearsing for her school's Christmas play.

"Good" she said, distracted. Basta knew that Suzanne wanted to be an actress some day, and it was her dream to go to Holly Wood. Though she didn't get cast for the leading role in the play, she was studying her lines daily.

"When's dinner going to be ready?" whined Martin from the living room.

"Not for a while" said Adriana. She seemed impatient with her grandson.

"How is the math going?" Asked Basta.

"Umm, ok" murmured Martin.

"Are you having troubles son?" Asked Julie. Sylvie had stopped crying.

"A little" said Martin. He scratched his head and tapped the pencil on the coffee table.

"I'll help" said Basta quietly. He set the knife down on the counter, and wiped his hands on his fatigues. Though reading and writing were two things Basta didn't understand too well, he had always had the uncanny ability to add subtract, divide and multiply numbers.

Basta sat next to Martin and took a look at the question in the boy's scribbler.

If you begin with a one digit integer, multiply by 3, add 8, divide by 2 and subtract 6, you will get the integer back. What is that number?

"Oh, that's easy" said Basta. He was silent for a moment as he thought. "Four" he said finally.

"Whoa! How'd you do that?" cried Martin. He gaped at Basta in bewilderment.

"Easy." Basta felt his cheeks turning pink. "Trial and Error. Just do three times-"

"Show me" said Martin, handing Basta the pencil. Basta flushed pink. He was nervous about writing, but he knew the number well, as he had seen them written many times at the VanDosen's. 8 orders of coffee, 4 orders of spaghetti, etc, etc. So, with a shaky sigh, Basta took the pencil, which felt like a foreign object in his hand. And then he began to write. His own printing became visible before his own eyes for the first time in his life. He couldn't help but smile and squiggly little lines appeared on the page.

3 x 4 = 12 + 8 = 20 / 2 = 10 – 6 = 4.

"Simple as that" he said, drawing a big circle around the final number four. When Martin didn't say anything, Basta sighed. Just go through all the numbers in your head, starting with zero, until you get the number you're looking for."

"I understand now" said Martin with a smile. "Trial and error."

Basta was too busy admiring the squiggles he made on the page to pay much attention to the boy. When Martin began erasing his problem though, Basta was shocked.

"Hey what are you doing?" he asked, a little too defensively.

"No offense, but you're printing is pretty messy... the teachers would never believe I wrote that! I have to do it myself, now."

"But... but my writing was so pretty" Basta almost whimpered. Martin just laughed.

"No it's not, it's ugly." The boy laughed, and Basta stood up, then returned to cutting potatoes in the kitchen. I wrote he thought proudly. And it was beautiful.

-.-.-

After he had done the dishes after supper, Basta snuck a pad of paper and a pencil out of the spare drawer in the kitchen. He went down to his room, and anxiously sat on his bed, the paper on his lap. He licked his lips in excitement, and prepared himself. I'm going to write he thought excitedly. And write he did. He scribbled down all the letters he knew in his wobbly printing. He practiced his letters for an hour or so, then began drawing things. He sketched horses (that came out looking like one eyed upside down camels), he drew dogs (they ended up looking like scraggly long legged hamsters), and many other sights that were familiar to him. He tried drawing people but gave up abruptly. After a few hours, the paper pad was completely full of letters and drawings, and he was so sleepy his eyelids felt like lead sheets.

-.-.-

"And what will you be having today?" Asked Basta, standing before a table where two older ladies were sitting.

"I'll be having the spaghetti and meat balls, please." Said the first, smiling up at Basta.

"Mushroom pasta please, and a water." Said the second. Basta nodded and a fleeting smile passed over his lips. Then he turned on his heel and walked towards the kitchen. He tugged the collar of his black button-down away from his neck, and shook the hair out of his eyes. His hair had always grown very fast, and he looked rather strange, with such long brown roots and four-inch long blonde ends. Mr. VanDosen didn't seem to approve of the style, and Basta assured the man he would cut it. He hadn't had hair shorter than four inches in years, though, and was tentative about cutting the blonde off. Plus, the blonde was the last bit of evidence he had that Anna had existed in his life. Evidence that she had touched him. He shivered, then pushed the door open to the kitchen. He told the head chef the order: spaghetti and meatballs, and mushroom pasta, then went to get the glass of water himself. As he filled up a glass at the faucet, Basta over heard the conversation between two chefs.

"It's always those big events" said one of them, as he slung a towel over his shoulder. "I just hate cooking for those things."

"Hey, you can complain all you want, but its money in my pocket, so I won't protest." Said the other.

"Yeah, but I hear this one will be full of krauts."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, we'll be cooking for krauts!" Krauts...Basta remembered the word. Was it William that had used it? Yes Basta recalled. It had been William. He used it to describe the Germans.

"Well that is unfortunate. But man, I need the money. I have a family to feed." Basta was so busy eaves dropping and wondering what event was happening, that he had failed to realise that the glass was teeming over the sides. Water ran over his hand, and got the cuff of his shirt wet. Basta swore quietly under his breath, and drained the glass ever so slightly. He stole a number of nervous glances at the two talking chefs, hoping to catch more of their conversation, but couldn't hear any more. So he just brought the water out to the lady, smiled timidly, then glanced around the restaurant for anyone else that needed attention.

My hair is so gross thought Basta when an older woman sort of glared at him as he walked by. He figured he looked like he wanted to be a Nazi... dying his hair blonde and all. He decided he would cut it after he got home from work.

After delivering the steaming bowls of pasta to the two women, Basta was allowed to go on break. He decided to eat supper at the restaurant, then go for a walk outside. Leaning belly-into the counter in the kitchen, Basta put his elbows on the metal surface and picked at a bowl of leftover French fries. Mindlessly popping the salty food in his mouth, Basta's eyelids drooped slightly, and his chewing became robotic. When he finished the bowl of fries, Basta shook the salt off his fingers, then yawned. He took off his half-apron, then shrugged into his jacket. Basta was feeling extremely dejected. He sighed deeply as he walked out into the cold evening. Clouds appeared before his lips, and Basta's breath shuddered. He knew he couldn't manage a smile, and even good memories weren't enough to brighten his mood. It was simply too much effort for him to raise the corners of his mouth. So instead, he trudged through the snow, shivering, and walked to the street corner with the lamp post. Basta stood under the street light, and pulled a cigarette and matchbook from his pocket. He stood there, alone, with a heavy heart, and smoked. Not much passed through his mind, but his heart weighed in his chest. Basta knew very well that it was broken. So this is what a broken heart feels like, he thought.

"Hmm." But he couldn't think much after that. So he just enjoyed his smoke and let the cold bite down on his toes and fingers and cheeks.

After he was finished his cigarette, Basta began walking back to VanDosen's. He briefly thought of what he had heard the chefs talking about, and wondered what the 'big event' was. Though it did perk his interest, he really didn't care all that much. He just wanted to have a drink and go to bed.

Basta walked home from work at nine thirty pm. Though it wasn't late, he was tired and mentally exhausted. He stepped into the house, and was greeted by Martin and Suzanne. Both Adriana and Sylvie were in bed.

"Hello" said both children in unison. They were both reading by the fireplace. Basta said hello back. Suzanne was reading her script, while Martin had his nose in an adventure story. "How are you?" asked Martin.

"Oh, I'm alright, I suppose. Been better. How are you?" Basta hung his jacket on a hook, and kicked off his Oxfords. He suppressed a sad sigh.

"I'm doing well." Said Martin. He put his book down and stretched. "You sound pretty sad."

"Suzanne?"

"Hmm?" The pretty little thing looked up from her script.

"How are you?"

"Oh! I'm well, thank you. How are you?" she blushed.

"I'm fine." He smiled faintly, then went to the kitchen. He got a paring knife from the drawer, and sighed.

"What are you doing?" Cried Martin suddenly, his eyes on the knife.

"Huh?" Basta looked from the boy to the knife, then burst out laughing. "I'm going to cut my hair" he said, laughter still in his voice.

"Oh! I thought you were going to kill yourself or something." Martin shook his head and sighed. Suzanne raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to cut your hair with a knife?" She seemed very surprised. Basta raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah...?" Was there any other way?

"Wouldn't you rather use scissors?" She asked.

"Err...?" Basta frowned a bit. Suzanne sighed.

"Want me to do it for you?"

"Uhhhh..." Basta hesitated, then looked at the knife in his hand. "Ok, I guess" he said. Suzanne dropped her script to the table, then bounded to the kitchen. She rummaged through the drawer, and pulled out a pair of scissors. To Basta, they looked like two knife blades stuck together. He nervously followed the girl over to the bathroom. She spread a towel on the floor, and instructed Basta to stand on it. He obeyed. Suzanna sat on the counter, her knees touching Basta's thighs. "Just cut the blonde out." He said, suddenly worried that the girl would mess up his hair forever. Then he felt silly, because hair always grows. So, he closed his eyes, and let Suzanne cut his hair.

Snip snip snip!

Pieces of hair fell onto Basta's shoulders. He squinted his eyes shut, and wrinkled his nose. Hair fell onto his face and chest, and he held his breath. Suzanna giggled at the face he was making. He shuffled around when she told him to, and ten minutes later, she said she was finished. The girl brushed some hair off his shoulders and chest and back, then hopped off the counter. He wiped hair off his face, and looked at his reflection. He was...shocked. The man staring back at him was a handsome brunette, with short, dark brown hair that stuck up in attractive little spikes. His bangs were still a bit long, like he liked them, jutting out in two inch long strands. The hair at the base of his neck was left a bit long too, but not sloppy at all. His face suddenly erupted in a smile.

"Thanks so much!" he cried, ruffling his hair with his fingers. Suzanne stood beside him, joining his reflection in the mirror.

"I think I did a good job!" She said, smiling. "Yeah, you look really good!"

"Thanks!" Basta smiled happily and put a hand to the girl's shoulder. "I really appreciate it."

"It was not problem." They exchanged a high-five, and smiled at each other.

A/N:

Hello, Inkhearties! Thank you for being so patient with me. I'm sorry it takes me a thousand years to update. I'm just so busy with math! Grr!

Anyways, I made an effort to make this chappy sorta long (2,372 words or something like that). ENJOY! And you know what to do next... wink wink nudge nudge.