black polo with Oblivion written in purple over my breasts, and get dressed. I sit on the bathroom counter to apply my makeup and do my hair. I don’t have many options when it comes to my hair. Wayne wants it in a ponytail, away from our face and the food. I go all-out tonight for some reason. Eyeliner, mascara, gold and green shadow, and peach lip gloss. I look actually kind of sexy when I finish. I hop down and examine my handy work. I feel stupid picking myself apart. I am who I am. This is my body. Am I Auburn Hair? No. But I’m me, and I’m okay with that.
Grabbing my purse on my way out, I make sure to turn the bottom lock before leaving the apartment. I need to talk to Kent about getting a key. Once I’m in my car, I roll down the window and allow the warm breeze to cool me down as I drive to work. We’re too far from the Florida coast for cool ocean air to penetrate the scorching summer heat. I can feel the lack of breeze in the air.
I pull around back to the employee’s parking lot and prepare myself for another night of being fondled, catcalled, and earning barely enough tips to keep my head above water. Sometimes when I’m not thinking about surviving I wonder if this will be my life forever. Tips and words over my breasts. And then I feel like I’m going to suffocate and decide right now is all I can handle.
I blame my absentee parents for giving me that outlook. If I wasn’t so worried about choosing a path that didn’t lead me to where they ended up then maybe I could focus on my future more. Maybe I could be like Becca and follow my dreams even if my dreams didn’t come true. Instead I don’t dream. I just keep going. For the most part that’s fine. It’s gotten me this far.
Oblivion is already hectic when I arrive. Night shift is a crazy place to be. I stash my purse in the employee break room, clock in for my shift in Wayne’s office, and then grab my apron.
As I enter the kitchen one of the cooks, Joaquin, beams at me.
“Evening, pretty lady. You’re looking good tonight. Perfect timing. Take these wings out to table fifteen.”
We play like this all the time. He’s married and happy and I’m single and apparently a prude according to Becca. “I was thinking about you.”
He winks at me and taps the order bell. “Get your cute ass out there before my food gets cold.”
I take the order of wings and go through the swinging doors to the main floor. Waitresses flit around the room like hummingbirds. I pass Sophie, the girl I’m tapping out, and she beams at me.
“Ready to go?” I ask.
“You have no idea. The lunch crowd was crazy today. I can’t wait to get out of here, go home, and have a glass of wine. Good luck,” she adds, rubbing in the start of my all-night shift. “You’ve got tables six through twenty tonight. Gen called in sick.”
I groan. “Again?”
Double the tables on a night like this meant a headache and a half.
“Again,” she says, as annoyed as me. “Have a good night.”
“I’ll try.”
I approach table fifteen and deposit their wings. “Hi, fellas. I’ll be taking over Sophie’s tables. Is there anything I can get y’all?” I spy their beers and crab dip. They’ll be here for a while. “How about a refill on those beers? They’re looking a little low.”
“House beer,” one of them informs me, sliding his slimy gaze over my legs.
“Coming right up.” I keep the revulsion out of my tone.
I dip behind the bar, grab two fresh ice-cold mugs, and fill them to the top with the beer on tap tonight. I make sure the tops are foaming when I bring them back to their table.
Table ten needs to order and table seventeen gives me a hard time about the menu. For hours I am a frenzied mess. Everyone needs something at all times. Beer, food, checks, and refills. My lower back starts to hurt around ten.
“Take a break,” Wayne orders, tapping on my shoulder. “Sorry about Gen calling in sick. I’m thinking about letting her go, so get used to this craziness until I can hire another waitress.”