Rachel

Rachel

Droplets of tears streamed down from my eyes, sliding down my cheeks, with my eyes burning.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

If anything I hate in this life and in my work, it is these onions. This one thing makes everything I love about cooking hate. But m relationship with his onions is something very complicated its hate and love kind, Love eating and adding them, in the food I make but I hate cutting, copping them

But it is what it is, I have loved cooking for as long as I can remember. The first time I cooked something edible was when I was a child, and that was boiled egg. And after that I never stopped. I started reading cookbooks, watching cooking shows, even watching my mom cook and tried everything to learn this skill.

I don’t know why but as a child whenever I was sad or the kids my school used to bully me because I don’t have dad, I used to come home and cook even as child all alone in home with my mom working two to three jobs, cooking brings me peace and it still does, maybe that one of reason I decided to make my passion a profession and came to meet Jayce.

He was the first person to teach me many things that I couldn’t even learn by myself. And used to love the image spent together, in the kitchen, he might be boss, a teacher in some ways. But his company is something that I used to enjoy, and always eager for our next lesson together. Until one day everything changed.

I signed, with the onions making me cry, my mind reminded me of the first time I came face to face with Jayce, the day when everything started. The very beginning of our story.

*****

Today is no more than any other day, just one, same day of me waiting at the table like usual.

But this is not something I ever wanted to do, I want to be in the kitchen, with a chef playing with ingredients and creating something and everyone here can devour each bite forgetting about anything about food they taste.

But look want am I doing I’m Here waiting tables, wearing this ridiculous outfit, I mean look at me, standing here with a shirt that seems so tight that at any moment I walk, the button will going to popped out ripping the shirt of my chest and the skirt its so short that I don’t think I can bend down even if wanted without showing my ass. God, I sighed, with my leg throbbing, if I compalinging before about the clothes, which are not even that bad than the heels, for godsake we are waiters not striipers, weaning something like this and displaying yourself. But I can’t do anything about it, you know the phrase, that beggar can’t be choosers, that’s me. I need money and more so the experience even if it’s coming from a waiting table. I want to open a hotel of my own and there I first rule will be no heels or short skirts that are my number one priority.

“Rachel food for table six,” I nodded, loading my hands with plates, walking my way to deliver the food.

And as I was walking, my legs twisted in the worst possible timing and way I could have imagined, making the plates of food fly in the air, dropping on the floor and on me, with my body landing on something stiff yet soft.

My eyes are closed as I’m hoping that this all to be a stupid dream and wanting wake up at any moment now. But my heart knows this all is reality and it’s my job that I have only started working a few weeks ago, and I also got paid for the expensive crockery that I broke.

“You okay,” I heard a soft mumbling voice in my heart, as I felt an arm wrap around my waist.

I quickly opened my eyes, startled by the sudden closeness. And notice that the stiff, soft thing I landed on is nothing but the lap of one of the customers, Shit, Rachel now I’m definitely going to lose my job.

Startled by the closeness between us and people in the restaurant, eyeing me suspiciously. I stood quickly, wanting to separate myself from the stranger. Only to groan loudly and lose my balance again, don’t tell me I sprained my ankle.

“Hold on,” I heard the voice of a stranger again, as he wrapped his hand around my waist, preventing my fall, staying deep in my face with a smile.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. I feel so helpless now with all eyes staring at us.

“Rachel, what do you think you’re doing,” A voice shouted and made me stand still even with my leg hurting badly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just heels…,” I tried to speak with my voice shaking both from pain and fear of losing my job.

“Oh don’t give me this silly excuses, pack your stuff and leave you’re no longer needed here,”

“But…,” I tried to explain.

“And who do you think you’re to fire her,” All the eyes turned to a voice that was coming from a stranger supporting me. “What do think about the ridiculous uniform of waitress here, what do think this place is a family high end restaurant or strip club,”

“It is what it is,” said the manager, staring glaring at the stranger beside me. “And as guest I don’t you have the right to interfere in matter related to employee here,”

“Rachel, clean this mess and leave.”

“But….,” I tried to say yet again but was ignored with turning his back on me leaving the room like nothing happened.

I turned my head to stranger who is still holding me, “I’m sorry for ruining your meal, if please let take you another table as I clean the mess I made,”

I separated myself from trying to walk only to stop and whimper in pain. I took a deep breath trying to take a step, only to be stopped, with a hand on my shoulder, turning me and making me sit on one of the chairs.

“Sit,” The stranger that helped me before said as he kneeled down, putting my feet on his lap, checking my sprain. “It’s all red, you need to see a doctor before it gets any worse,” he seems worried but why.

“Rachel, we’re still here,” the manager’s voice shouted again.

“That guy..,” he mumbled, standing on his feet, giving a deadly stare to the manager. “You what, I had enough of you treating your juniors like slave,”

“What can you do about it,” the manager challenged

“Try me,” he said, picking up the phone.

Damn this stranger is fighting for me, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy, not even my own father, ever take a stand for me, like this.

The call ended, and the stranger turned his attention to me. “Let’s go,” he said, holding me tight, putting all my weight in his arms.

“But..,” I said, but he only smiled, turning his head to the manager. “Pack your thing or you might not have the time to do it on time,”

“What..,” He questioned.

But without caring about him we walked slowly towards his car. And drive to the nearest hospital.

The memory of that day is still clearly vivid in my mind. That was the first day that someone took a stand for me, even as a stranger, Jayce supported me but it’s sad that none of us wanted anything serious with our relationship. I sighed, shaking the memories of the past from my mind and continuing my work.