Helpless » Fillie

| the new waitress |

"How are you holding up this week, Mavis?"

The middle-aged woman that sat uneasily across the table took a sip of her simmering black coffee, clutching the sides of the mug. She swept her kemp dark curls behind her ear before fleetingly swinging her hand in the air in frustration.

"Not too well, but you probably already knew that because I look like shit," she said, gesturing to the dark bags that drooped beneath her eyes and the depthless wrinkles that bode stress.

"You do no-"

She wearily interjected, "You know it, I know it. It's been just the same as every other week. The boys are at it again. They just- they don't know when to stop."

The redhead's expression softened and she placed her right hand over the woman's left. In a sympathetic tone, she asked, "What'd they do this time?"

Mavis, who had been staring off elsewhere turned to the young girl with an incredulous stare. "They smuggled crack into my pr-"

They were unfortunately interrupted by a loud groan followed by a familiar British accent in the distance.

The feminine voice called out, "Sadie, have you seen my bobby pins?"

"A bit busy, Mills," Sadie yelled in reply, shooting her an apologetic look.

"Alright then," the British girl inaudibly huffed in defeat.

Today is just not on my side, I guess, Millie had decided. Just this morning, her phone had run out of battery because it eluded her memory to charge it the previous night. She had missed her alarms and the local bus, and as a result, was left with no choice but to run eight blocks uphill to get to work. Moreover, she barely managed to wriggle her way out of a scolding from Billy, the owner of the Rosie's Diner, for forgetting to clocking in. She was still reprimanded, however: he had put her on toilet duty for the first four hours of her shift, which was evidently unpleasant.

"I'm sorry about that. That's Millie. She's our new waitress," Sadie clarified. "You were saying?"

She heedfully watched the sorrowful woman fiddle with her fingers almost nervously. Frankly, Mavis was suffering. And Sadie felt responsible to help her heal, or at least help shelter her miseries.

"I don't know what to do anymore, Sadie. I'm enervated, I'm agitated. After sending them off to boarding school in the middle of God knows where, they probably think I've given up on them, but tha- that's not true."

At this point, a stream of hot tears had fallen down her face. She struggled to keep from bursting into a fit of temper, and the small hand that was atop hers helped retain her emotional control.

"I-I love them and I'd give them world," she spoke softly, her gaze shamefully fell to her lap, "but you've probably heard that more often than they have."

Sadie slightly fixed her grip on Mavis' hand and pressed her lips together. Mavis swiftly wiped a tear from her cheek. "You and I both know that I'm not the one you need to be saying this to. You need to consult them personally. And try not to lash out..." her voice trailed away.

"I try bu-"

"No buts," she uttered in a firm tone. The woman opened her mouth to argue, again, but Sadie was quick to intervene.

"Mavis," she dragged out the woman's name.

She sank in her seat, biting her bottom lip and fixed her grip on the mug.

Finally, she mumbled in response, "Sadie."

The girl narrowed her eyes and playfully stared at the older woman until they both broke into small laughter.