A-typical Day

A typical Wednesday morning. It’s too normal; like a day to an upcoming event that you cross off on a calendar without giving any thought. Something you just have to get by to enjoy the weekend. The mid-week hump as they call it.

And that sense of unassuming normalcy is what caught me off-guard.

Sometimes, I wonder if things would still unfold this way if I called in sick that day.

… Sometimes, I wish that I really did.

—

The morning rays are passing through the white lace curtains and the mini-herb garden on the window sill. During this time of the day, the gentle lighting perfectly compliments the whole space. It makes the beige walls glow brighter than usual and the warm red-tiled floors, some of them replaced with different patterned tiles where it’s needed, glisten like a unique mosaic art piece.

The huge wooden ceiling fan in the center is circling lazily, as if it’s in-synched with the current mood. Several well-spaced tables in the mid-sized, open area room are adorned with freshly laundered table clothes & napkins with embroidered “F” initials on them. I just finished replenishing each of them with utensils and small snacks. I walked across the room and took in the view one more time.

The menu of comfort home-cooked meals and snacks are stacked neatly in a small wooden stand beside the arch entryway. The glass paneling on the wooden door reflects the people outside like shadow puppets. Our morning usuals had arrived.

It’s a small, family-owned restaurant. One of the choices in a line of restaurants and cafes at the busy part of the town. You may even overlook it if you’re rushing to complete your lunch break or finding an impressive spot for a first date.

While it’s not the one you’ll think of first for taking trending reels ( and I like it that way ), it pulls in tourists venturing for authentic cuisines and locals craving for warm, comforting meals.

That’s what made me accept this in the first place. Smaller crowd, less visibility.

… but still, you will never know what kind of people you’ll meet for the day.

—

I slowly take in the scene and a hint of genuine smile forms in my face. I can’t help it; I’ve been here for several weeks at this point but I still take in this view with satisfaction.

I don’t have a bad case of OCD ( my brother can vouch for that - a brief look in my bedroom says it all ) but soaking in the view of the restaurant before the hustle and bustle makes this feel special. It feels like this serene moment is especially made for me.

This is how I envision having my own restaurant feels like. Cozy, quaint, aesthetically pleasing, just cute & intimate - without the additional stress of managing, firefighting daily nuances... and other things .

It’s like the calm before the storm.

A few moments of peace. My favorite time of the day.

If you ask most of the people working in this kind of industry, their favorite moment of the day is the closing time. It’s when you’re getting out of there after packing and cleaning up. You get to have the remaining time for yourself; it’s the sweet taste of freedom.

But the stillness of the morning has its own charm; it feels like everything, and anything can still happen. The thing that will turn your life upside down, and 180 degrees in unexpected angles. The day is young; as cliché as it is, it screams everything is possible.

… for better, or for the worst, that I don’t know yet .

And today is one of those days.

—

“It’s time.” I said loudly to no one in particular as I looked at the worn-out leather-strapped watch that I’m wearing while stacking a pile of menus to my right arm. They intentionally avoided placing clocks and calendars at the main space; they said that it keeps the customers focused and immersed at the moment inside the restaurant… while ordering for seconds. It’s smart of them to even think of these small nuances. It honestly makes me take notes.

And just like clockwork, the people came in the moment I upturned the “OPEN” sign on the doorway of the store. I automatically braced myself, like preparing for an unknown fight.

Here we go again. I muttered as I deeply inhaled the final, calming breath for the day.

“Hello, welcome to Frederick’s.” I greeted chirpily while flashing my signature polite smile that I practiced for a long time.

—

“I SAID, what can you recommend for lunch from these sets?”

I was snapped back to reality. My mind keeps on wandering to where it shouldn’t be - and right in the middle of handling a customer.

I am being engulfed by my thoughts again. No, no. This is not good. I hastily opened the menu that I have on my hand and started blurting out my usual spiel.

“Sorry ma’am, I would recommend this set for you if you don’t have any allergies to–HAHA!”

The woman in front of me gapes at me in surprise. Her lips painted with light lip gloss are open enough for me to see a wiggling black thing inside her mouth. It moved, as if knowing that someone noticed it, and it crawled slowly out of her mouth. It’s about the size of my index finger, has a round, shiny black body with several legs and an antennae.

I feel that I have the same gaping look on my face minus that .

“Excuse me… did you just laugh at me?” She demanded. The bug-like creature hangs over her glossy lip as she speaks. It’s strikingly dark against her lips that at first glance, you’ll think that she’s slurping a dark ink pasta. It makes her look sillier.

She’s clueless about what’s happening.

“HA-ha– hugh–ahugh–ahugh ”. I tried to pass out my laugh as a cough. I know immediately that it didn’t convince anyone in the room, honestly not even myself. Customers dining on the other tables started to look at us too in curiosity.

The woman’s gaping mouth is slowly turning into a thin line of annoyance. The creature didn’t make it in time; her lip closed before it could go back in. It was left behind on her cheek scuttling aimlessly. In a desperate attempt after a few seconds, it went right into her nose.

That’s it.

I burst into a fit of laughter.

She mutters under her breath indignantly something about “creepy”, “a prank”, “unprofessional”. Someone behind me is whispering something to his companion. I can’t hear it all clearly. As she’s about to stand up, a light tap on my shoulder surprised me. A man is standing behind me, wearing the same red apron as me. The glare from the light to his round spectacles is hiding his eyes on my angle. His expressionless face drained the laughter out of me; I’m still in the restaurant, WORKING.

He pushed his way between me and the woman. “ Leave this to me. ” He whispered.

“Sorry for the misunderstanding. You resemble the magazine model that we’re having a nice talk with the other day so much. I almost greeted you too.” One look at him and her anger dissipated immediately. He leaned forward as he pointed something out on the menu. His soft, blond waves lightly brushed the tip of her nose.

“I would recommend this set for you. It’s more delicate in the stomach right after a fast. Yes, I could tell.” His eyes looked down into hers and I can see how she melts on her seat under his gaze.

“But I think you’re about to leave. Please keep this recommendation in mind when you get back.” He’s about to close the menu when she placed a hand on top of it. It’s adorned with a lot of different shiny rings.

“... ah yes, yes, no. That set would do.” She said in a soft voice while fluttering her eyelashes towards him. I could tell that she’s hooked. The bug is still sorely visible as she speaks; it’s now resting on her upper lip and it makes her look like donning a mustache. I decided to look away this time to save myself.

"Perfect." He beamed at her as he handed her a plate of mixed entrees. “And that’s in the house.” He smiled widely. “I’ll be right back.”

He quietly motions me towards the backroom of the restaurant. It’s our time to graciously exit. I’m not sure if I want to stay here with her or to go back there with him without any explanation.

—

“Lira, are you okay?” He looks at me with concern as he closes the door. We’re in the small staff room beside the kitchen. It’s a bit stuffy because of this but the warmth feels more comforting right now than an inconvenience. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. I understand completely why that woman stayed. I nodded meekly.

I don’t know what to say. How do I even tell anyone that ?

“I’ll handle her order until she leaves. Can you help with the inventory for the meantime?”

“Sorry, it’s just that-” I’m still trying to come up with a reasonable excuse but he’s not having it. He waves his hand in dismissal.

“Don’t worry too much about it. Tsk, I feel that she really just wants to flirt with me. Stay here.” He winks playfully as he goes back into the main room. Then, he went right back to take a quick look at himself in the mirror hanging on the doorway, fixed his hair delicately, and he went out again (while gesturing an ok sign in my direction).

That made me smile genuinely for the second time today.

That dude is also insane - in a whole different way from me. I went into the desk in the corner and peered at the pile of papers that Fred’s been working on. He’s efficient with numbers as he’s effortlessly good at handling different types of people. He’s insanely good at everything.

Fred saves my ass once again; that guy’s been doing it since day one. He’s the one who taught me the know-about of the diner, introduced me to their usual customers, and he's the one who personally toured me around when I was just new to the town. Even gave me a lot of tips on where to buy discounted goods around the local market.

And now, he didn’t even ask what happened out there with the woman. A wave of gratitude washed over me.

I gazed at my watch. It’s just noon.

I took a deep breath. At least these papers in front of me will not sprout random bugs out of nowhere.

—

I made sure to come out when the woman with a bug already left. One thing I'm sure about is she took her sweet time chatting with Fred while she's at it.

The dining hall is calmer, typical for a weekday afternoon. A few tables are occupied with people who avoided the lunch rush or the ones just idly doing their own thing while having their meal.

Fred was talking with Yvonne, also one of the people who works here, when he saw me and gestured a hello towards my direction. I overheard them talking about connecting with the event organizer for a spot in the upcoming food festival.

I mouthed a quiet “hello” back and went on tending to the customers.

One of them, the man busy fiddling with his phone at the far end of the hall, is wearing a wide, square glasses. It’s covered with a gooey, sticky green substance that’s dripping until his torso. He asked for another serving of black coffee. As I reached out for his used cup, a piece of the goo brushed on my hand; it’s cold like a Jell-o. I snatched the cup and hurried back.

He must be overworking. I noticed how the slime keeps dripping and spreading faster the more he types frantically into his phone. This time, I just went on attending him like the rest since the goo seemed harmless enough; it’s just happy dripping all over the table so it didn’t bother me as much. After that, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

—

It’s closing time. The last customer is chatting away at the counter. I checked on my watch, a few minutes left.

Another day survived.

I stretched a bit to loosen some of my stiff knots. It feels like this day is not so bad after all.

… and that’s when I saw him .

—