Unsuspecting Dreamer

Chapter 2 Nice To Meet You

"Thanks," is all I manage to rasp out, still finding my breath. His hand on my elbow, he guides me to the nearest stool.

"Are you here by yourself?" he asks, concern showing in his voice. He sits next to me.

"No, there's a cook, Robert, but he's just about deaf. A few years back we were robbed and he didn't even hear when they broke a window; he only listens to us when we have orders for him. And even then he only notices because we stick the paper in his order slot." I know I'm babbling, but I'm just trying to keep a hold of my nerves.

I receive a small chuckle. The stinging in my hands is full out throbbing now, the pain so bad it's ringing in my ears. I lift them up to examine them. Two large shards stick out of my right hand, and there is a nasty scrape on my left hand, a couple inches wide. The coffee is seeping in, making the stinging that much stronger. I wince as I remove the pieces from my hand. Blood gushes from the deeper one but both are pretty nasty. I can't help but let a tear drip down my face, and with my soiled hands I can't even wipe it away. I wrap my right hand in my apron, feeling helpless and stupid.

"Uh, I've gotta clean up," my eyes drift to the register. I'm not supposed to leave the dining area unattended. I could get fired.

His eyes follow mine. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." He smiles, "I'll watch things for a few minutes."

"Thank you," I swoop off the stool and hurry behind the counter, grabbing my backpack which contains my street clothes and first aid kit, among other things. I quickly dodge into the bathroom. I turn on the light and lock the door, I look instinctively at the mirror over the sink as the light flicks on. I am a complete mess!

My hair is half in, half out of my ponytail, and the makeup I carefully applied this morning is smeared beyond repair. My uniform is stained with coffee and blood. I don't have a replacement uniform; my regular clothes and a borrowed apron will have to do.

I change quickly, stopping to wash my hands, arms, and legs as best as I can. I'm grateful I have jeans to cover the red irritation of the burn. I bandage my hands and strip off my makeup. Then I run my hands through my hair, retying it when I've eliminated most of the tangles.

The finished product isn't dazzling, but definitely a large improvement. I pull the long sleeves of my plain, black tee shirt over my fists and stuff everything into my backpack.

I leave the bathroom a little more sure of myself... until I see the empty lobby. I gasp, running to the register. Before I can open the till I hear a shuffling sound coming from the front of the counter. I peer over the edge to see the guy with electric blue eyes mopping up the coffee and bits of pie with a wad of napkins.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," I call down at the floor, surprise rings in my voice.

He looks up at me. "No, I wanted to," he replies. I throw down my pack, grabbing a fresh rolled up apron from behind the clean mugs. I tie it as I come around to the mess.

"Please, sit down, and I'll get your coffee and pie," I tell him. I serve up another piece of apple pie as he sits on a stool. I notice the coffee pot is down to the sludge so I put together a new pot.

"I place the plate in front of him. "Sorry, it'll be a bit for the coffee, but at least it will be fresh."

"No hurry here," he smiles kindly. I avoid making eye contact. They seem to distract me from all else. I grab the broom and dustpan and start to clean up.

"So, how late is this place open?" He asks.

I appreciate the light conversation. "2AM," I reply. I can't think of anything else to say.