Ray Leach
The night was closing and most guests had left the restaurant. We had finished our mains and were now just awkwardly scraping our knives around for the final morsels. Whipped butter smeared across fishbone-lined plates and bitty traces of red wine was all that remained in the glasses. Although my bottom was considerably numb, I could see one of our big-bellied guests stretch his fingers over to the menu for a sweet encore, so I knew we weren’t done. The waitress shared my pained expression as the guest lifted his sausage finger to the air for attention. They ordered glorified raspberry jelly and ice cream, while I shook my hand in defeat. The waitress noted it down but repeated our order back wrong. We ironed out the confusion and she scratched it into her pad again. Trying to recover, she went to take the empty glasses but our unimpressed guest held his down, protesting that she should just bring out another bottle instead. A wave of exhaustion washed over me as I anticipated the time it would take to get through another entire bottle between chatter.
The waitress returned with the fresh Lambrusco and offered a taste to the head guest. He tossed his hand in the air. “No need, I already know what this one tastes like,” he laughed, lips sealed in a smug grin. I watched as she poured, shakily. Dessert was drowned by the bellows of our guests. I slid a few bites in but the rich cream needed water to wash it down.
As soon as desserts were taken away, a bill landed on the edge of our table – a gentle reminder that we were now the last people in the restaurant. The private matter of splitting the bill was the most subtle of all our conversations so far. I excused myself to the bathroom to avoid the awkwardness. Before I could unhinge myself from the bench, I noticed something: the once dopey waitress now beamed as she flung her apron off. She called out to the chef, “I’m off!”, as she swung through the staff-only doors, practically giddy. Without thinking, I left my party and followed her through the door, peering down the sticky corridor to see where she was skipping off to. My feet carried me down the path, fluorescent lights flickering above me. A tap on my shoulder broke the spell as I was redirected to the bathroom by another waiter.
Washing my hands, I splashed my face in the sink to check I wasn’t too drunk. Sure enough, I was fine, but the image of the young waitress whisking herself away after her shift was so charming, it ran on repeat in my mind. Finally, after the bill had been settled and our bellies were near to exploding, we wiggled out of the table and pooled out onto the street. The waiters locked the doors behind us. There was discussion of carrying the night on, but before I could contrive an excuse to leave, there she was again.
Under the hot neon lights of Soho, through a haze of smoke, the waitress slumped among her friends outside a bar. The friends bitched about their days as they lit one another’s cigarettes. Sweat gleamed off their skin. She thirstily gulped the beer a friend brought her. Everything else was a blur to her now. She was completely entranced at the moment. Contentment warmed me, knowing she had such a fulfilling evening waiting for her beyond that restaurant.
My gang were squawking, unaware. They alerted me of the direction in which we were heading. Trailing after them, my eyes were still fixated on the theatrical friends across the street. People passing by made the scene harder to follow. Like a flip book, the waitress’s gestures became disjointed fragments.
Her mood suddenly seemed to drop as one friend poked fun at her; she looked as though she was about to cry. I felt my shoulders tense as the scene turned sour. Ducking between heads, I tried to see what happened next… She shoved the boy and they all laughed innocently. I let out a breath and turned away, remembering that after all, these were strangers.
As we walked off through the chaos of Soho, I fell back into the reality of my own day. Remembering the tasks ahead of me and the time I needed to be up the next morning. Having been lost in her world, just momentarily, I let out a sigh. Remembering how little we know about those around us. I looked ahead at the group I was trailing after, caught up in a few skips and nestled my arm into theirs as we marched into the night.
