The Waitress

"You can seat yourself anywhere you like. I will be with you as soon as I can."

I looked at my watch, a simple shiny piece of silvery metal that I used to keep track of the hours of the day. It read 1:30 a.m. I am a writer, and I suffer from insomnia. I can't sleep for days at a time, so I use my time to be productive. I write on my laptop whenever I can; plugging into the wall outlets at coffee shops, hotel bars, bookstores, and libraries. I was carrying my black backpack that I lugged around the world with my camera, a Nikon, and the laptop. My keys were starting to stick on the keyboard, so I had invested in a bluetooth computer keyboard that I also carried. I found the table right inside the door that had the wall outlet, and immediately had my computer up and running in a matter of minutes.

"Do you know what you would like to order?" the brunette asked me as she handed me a menu. She recognized me immediately from another location nearer to my house. She was a good waitress.

"I think I would love to have an order of onion rings, and a Diet Coke. I am working on some writing tonight, if that is ok. Do you mind if I work here for a few hours? I am doing some reviews for a writing site, and I hope to work some on my writing."

"Sure, I don't mind. I'll get the order right in. We're open 24 hours...and you can stay as long as you need."

I was working on my writing when the order of onion rings came as promised. They were still very warm from just being taken out of the frier. I looked up a minute as she smiled at me, setting the Diet Coke on the table. I was thirsty, but I was still in mid-sentence, typing away. The computer keys were quietly clicking as I typed in the fininshing touches.

"Are you still doing ok?" she asked as she smiled again. Another customer came into the front entrance. "Excuse me for a minute, I've got to seat this customer." She turned and greeted the next customer.

I had been working on the last chapter of the five thousand word short story that had been a work in progress for a week, when I noticed her looking at me from the counter. The customers that had come in thirty minutes ago had already paid and left the restaurant. There was no one else in the restaurant except her and her coworker, a tall brunette with a pigtail, who was sitting outside on the sidewalk next to the restaurant smoking a cigarette. The smoke curled from the tip of the lit cigarette, a red ember shedding a grey ash.

She walked over from the counter, and stood a second next to my table. "Do you mind if I join you?" she asked. "I'll be right back...just a sec." She turned around and walked back to the counter, geting her plate of food, and bringing it to the table next to me. "I"ve got to watch the front, but I am starving. What are you working on?" she asked curiously as I was still typing away at my keyboard.

"I'm working on a short story that has taken me a week to write. I have a few other pieces that I am still going to come back to eventually, but I have this really good feeling about this piece."

"I used to write creatively when I was in school at St. James. I am trying to get my education so I can be a pre-med major. I just completed my phlebotomist training."

"That means you are dangerous with a needle," I teased her briefly. I didn't know how she was going to take it, but it was refreshing to take a break from my writing. I was at a standstill for a minute anyway

"Yeah, I am trying to get my credentials as cheaply as I can. The class for phlebotomy was really expensive at Columbus State Community College, and it would take 3 months. I took the class for 6 weeks, and it was only a third of the cost. I can now take blood." She smiled as she took a bite of her chicken tender.

I believed her, she seemed to be levelheaded and knew what she was doing. She probably hated working at this restaurant, but I didn't ask. I remembered my jobs in college. I worked as a cashier for the department stores downtown, and they didn't pay much. I saved as much as I could, but if I had to do it over, I would probably think about working a summer on a salmon boat in Alaska, or for a paving company on the highway. They paid much better. Of course, I probably would have to pay for living expenses...and the cost of room and board for a salmon fishing boat could be expensive.

The clang of dishes coming out of the dishwasher in the kitchen was heard, and a new group of customers came in the front door. They appeared to be college students...laughing and chatting loudly. She smiled, and left her plate of food on the table. She seated the customers, got their drinks, and disappeared into the back of the kitchen for a few minutes. Another customer came in, a regular. He sat at the front counter in front of the grill, and she settled him in. She stood and chatted with him a few minutes as she waited for the cook to bring the food over.

I was back to typing my story and was lost in thought when she walked back to the plate of food on the table next to me.

"I"ve got to stay in the front, near the counter. Are you still ok?" She asked me, and then seeing my drink was gone, disappeared for a minute, and then brought me a refill.

She was gone before I realized it, again, lost in thought as I plotted out the next scene for my story. Looking down at the word processor, I was pleased when I saw the word count. I was finally nearing my daily writing goal of five thousand words, four thousand and fifty-eight words. Writing was a state of mind. I had to keep practicing. Someday, I would be ready to play with the pros.