Chapter 21 No Goodnight #2
Anna watched him for a second longer, then put the keys in the middle of the table, closer to herself than him.
“Write the letter,” she said.
He picked up the pen again. At Bella Luna, Antonia put Sophia on silverware, water glasses, and host-stand backup.
“No tables?” Sophia asked.
Antonia looked at her. Sophia looked back.
They were in the low staff hallway, away from customers but not hidden.
The restaurant hadn’t opened for dinner yet, but the front room already felt busier than it should.
Regulars had called all afternoon to ask whether Antonia was all right, whether Sophia was all right, whether they could still get a reservation this week.
One woman had asked if she could bring flowers “for the sweet server from the review.”
Sophia had gone cold when Victoria told her. Antonia had said no flowers. Thank God.
“You can take tables tomorrow if you still want to,” Antonia said. “Tonight, we start smaller.”
“I don’t want to hide.”
“You aren’t hiding. You are working.”
Sophia crossed her arms, then uncrossed them because she sounded like she was about to argue for no reason.
“I can handle customers.”
“I know.”
Sophia frowned. “Then why—”
“Because handling customers and handling customers who ask for you by name aren’t the same thing.”
Sophia closed her mouth.
Antonia’s voice stayed level. “I am not taking your work from you. I am giving you a shift you can finish.”
Sophia looked past her toward the dining room.
Table seven was seated already. Not her table.
An older couple who had come in twice before sat there, drinking water and looking at the menu like nothing terrible had ever happened in that spot.
Seeing ordinary customers at that table made it feel less ruined. A little.
“All right,” Sophia said. “Silverware and host support.”
Antonia nodded. “Smart.”
When Sophia stepped into the dining room, Gia looked up from arranging menus.
“Normal face?” Gia asked softly.
Sophia blinked. “What?”
“I am asking if you want normal face, angry face, or overly cheerful face from me.”
Sophia looked at her. Gia held very still, trying hard.
“Normal,” Sophia said.
Gia relaxed. “Thank God. Overly cheerful face gives me forehead pain.”
Sophia smiled. Modest, but real. Victoria was at the host stand with her phone facedown beside the reservation tablet.
That alone told Sophia how serious she was being.
Victoria’s phone was almost never facedown unless someone was dead, bleeding, or wearing an ugly outfit she was trying not to photograph.
“You approve tonight’s post?” Victoria asked.
Sophia stiffened.
Victoria held up a hand. “Not about you directly. About the restaurant. Antonia looked at it first. I’m asking before I post because I said I would.”
Sophia appreciated that more than she could explain.
“Can I read it?”
Victoria handed her the phone. The post was short.
No video and no picture of Sophia. Just a photo of Bella Luna’s dining room from the host stand, warm and full before service.
Victoria had written that Bella Luna was open, proud of its staff, grateful for the community, and not interested in turning one mistake into a public shame campaign.
She thanked customers for supporting restaurant workers as people, not review props. Sophia read the last line twice.
“Review props” was sharp.
Maybe too sharp. She looked at Victoria.
Victoria lifted her chin. “Too far?”
“No,” Sophia said. “It’s true.”
“Can I post it?”
Sophia handed the phone back. “Yes.”
Victoria nodded and posted before she could talk herself into making it meaner.
Gia leaned over. “Did you mention that Francois has sad cheekbones?”
“No.”
“Missed opportunity.”
Antonia called from the bar, “Gia.”
“Normal face,” Gia said quickly, and went back to menus.
The first customer asked for Sophia at six-ten.
Sophia was refilling water at the server station when Victoria looked over from the host stand.
Her face gave the warning before her words did.
Sophia set down the pitcher and walked over.
A woman in her fifties stood near the entrance with a man who looked like her husband.
Sophia recognized them vaguely from a Sunday lunch shift, though she couldn’t remember their names.
The woman held a simple purse in both hands and wore the expression of someone trying to be kind without knowing where to put the kindness.
“Are you Sophia?” the woman asked.
Sophia’s back tightened. Victoria shifted half a step closer, then stopped herself.
“Yes,” Sophia said.
The woman’s face softened. “I thought so. We read that awful review, and I just wanted to say we’ve been here before. You were lovely to us.”
Sophia’s throat tightened immediately.
“That’s very kind. Thank you.”
The woman touched her husband’s arm. “We told our daughter too. She lives in Oak Park, but she said she wants to come try the pasta.”
Sophia nodded because she didn’t know what else to do with that.
“I hope she likes it.”
The man smiled. “We know she will.”
The woman leaned in a little. “And don’t let that man make you feel bad. Everyone drops something eventually.”
Sophia’s face warmed. Kind. Too public.
She managed a slight smile. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Victoria stepped in smoothly. “I can take you to your table.”
The couple followed her. Sophia stood by the host stand for a second, hands at her sides.
Gia appeared beside her. “Normal face?”
Sophia breathed out. “Please.”
Gia’s face went slowly blank. Too blank. Sophia snorted.
Gia whispered, “I don’t know what normal is under pressure.”
Gia’s honesty eased some of the pressure. At six-forty, Nico came in with two men Sophia recognized as regulars from the front window table. Nico stopped near the bar instead of going straight to his seat. Sophia tensed, but Nico didn’t approach her first. He looked at Antonia.
“Can I say hello, or no?”
Antonia glanced at Sophia. Her choice. Sophia nodded. Nico came over, hands visible at his sides like he knew everyone was watching for too much.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.”
His expression was kind but not soft in a pitying way. Sophia appreciated that.
“I’m sorry he turned you into the point like that.”
Her eyes stung.
“Thank you.”
“I meant what I wrote.” Nico glanced toward the dining room. “You’ve always done true work here.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded once. “That’s it. I’m not going to make a whole speech because Gia will accuse me of having theater energy.”
From three feet away, Gia said, “You do.”
Nico smiled faintly. “See?”
Sophia laughed, and the laugh surprised her by not breaking.
Nico’s face softened. “Good to see you here.”
That one almost got her.
She nodded and stepped back. “Fair to see you too.”
He went to his table.
Gia watched him walk away and murmured, “Dramatic, but useful.”
Sophia looked at her.
Gia lifted both hands. “Normal face failed.”
At seven, Sophia carried water to table four because the dining room had filled faster than expected and the staff needed hands. It wasn’t full service. Just water.
The woman at table four said, “Are you the young lady from the review?”
Sophia’s fingers tightened on the pitcher. Victoria turned from the host stand. Antonia, near the bar, looked over. Sophia made herself pour the water without spilling.
“Yes,” she said.
The woman’s face went warm with sympathy. “Poor thing.”
Sophia’s stomach dropped. Poor thing was worse than the review, almost.
“I’m fine,” Sophia said.
The woman blinked, maybe surprised by the correction.
Sophia set the pitcher down. “Would you like lemon?”
“Oh.” The woman looked at her glass. “Yes, please.”
Sophia nodded and brought lemon. That was it. No speech, no comfort, and no crying in the staff hallway. Just lemon.
At the service station, Antonia appeared beside her. “You all right?”
“Yes.”
Antonia gave her a look.
Sophia sighed. “I hated poor thing.”
“I saw.”
“I handled it.”
“You did.”
Sophia picked up a stack of clean menus. “Can I stay on until close?”
“No.”
Sophia looked at her. Antonia’s expression didn’t move.
“Short shift,” Sophia said.
“Short shift.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are doing well. That isn’t the same as needing to do more.”
Sophia wanted to argue. She could feel the argument come up, automatic and sharp, because doing more felt like she was trying to prove herself again.
She thought of Dr. Miller’s sentence. Don’t make the mistake the first thing people see about the child.
She thought of Constance asking whether she wanted to work or prove something. Sophia set the menus down.
“All right,” she said.
Antonia looked relieved, though only a little.
“Fine.”
At eight, Victoria walked Sophia to the back door. Not home. Just the back door. Sophia appreciated the difference.
“Text when you’re inside?” Victoria asked.
“Yes.”
“Vinny hasn’t texted?”
Sophia shook her head. “No.”
Victoria looked at her slowly. “Right or bad?”
Sophia pulled her coat tighter. “Both.”
“Yeah.”
“He is doing what I asked.”
“That matters.”
“It does.”
Victoria leaned against the doorframe. “I won’t walk you unless you want me to.”
Sophia looked at the alley, then the street beyond it. Familiar. Lit. Not empty.
“I want to walk alone.”
Victoria nodded. “All right.”
“Really?”
“Yes. But I am keeping my phone in my hand like a normal anxious person.”
Sophia smiled.
Gia called from inside, “I am also anxious!”
Victoria yelled back, “We know!”
Sophia laughed for real this time. Then she walked home alone.
Not because no one cared. Because they let her.
Vinny didn’t text during her walk. He didn’t appear across the street.
He didn’t wait near her building. He didn’t turn up with soup, pasta, biscotti, or any other edible apology.
Sophia noticed every absence. At her building, she stopped on the steps and looked back down the street.
No Vinny. Nice. Her chest ached. Still steady.
She went upstairs, texted Victoria that she was home, then sat at the kitchen table with her planner.
Constance came out of the living room. “How was work?”
Sophia thought about it.
“Weird.”
“That sounds right.”
“People were nice.”
“Too nice?”
“Sometimes.”
Constance sat across from her. “Did anyone take over?”
“No.”
“Did you let anyone help?”
Sophia frowned. “That is an annoying question.”
“I know.”
Sophia tapped her pen against the planner once, then stopped. Even that made her think of Vinny, and she did not need one more reason to lose focus.
“Antonia gave me a short shift,” she said. “I wanted to argue.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Constance smiled a little. “Steady.”
“Nico came in.”
“The man from the comments?”
“Yes. He was nice. He didn’t push.”
“That is a skill.”
“It is.”
Sophia looked at her phone. No Vinny. Constance noticed and said nothing.
Sophia appreciated that. She opened her textbook and finished half the reading before her eyes started skipping lines.
Then she opened her notebook and wrote a few plain sentences about the day because anything prettier would have felt fake.
People asked for me. I didn’t like it. I still worked.
Vinny didn’t text. I missed him. I am not ready.
She closed the notebook. Across town, Vinny sat on the couch at his mother’s house while Anna and Mary watched a movie with the volume too loud.
His unfinished letter sat folded in his back pocket.
He hadn’t sent it. He hadn’t finished it. He hadn’t texted Sophia.
He had checked the time at least twenty times since eight o’clock and imagined her walking home more than that. Every ugly possibility tried to play itself in his head. He let each one pass without picking up his keys. At nine-oh-six, Gia texted.
Gia: She got home. Don’t reply to this unless it is “all right.”
Vinny stared at the screen.
Then typed:
Vinny: All right.
Gia sent back a thumbs-up and nothing else. He set the phone down.
Anna looked over from the other end of the couch. “You survived not texting?”
“No.”
Mary kept her eyes on the movie. “But did you text?”
“No.”
“Then you survived.”
Vinny leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes.
He didn’t feel like he had repaired anything.
Maybe it was the point. Maybe the first thing he had to do was stop making every feeling into action.
He opened his eyes, pulled the letter from his pocket, and unfolded it again.
The first few lines were still there. Plain.
Not enough. A start. He picked up the pen from the coffee table and added one more sentence.
I am learning that leaving you alone when you ask me to is part of caring about you.
He looked at it for a long time. Then he folded the letter and put it away. Not tonight.
No goodnight.
At Sophia’s apartment, the phone stayed silent on her desk.
She brushed her teeth, changed into pajamas, and plugged it in beside the lamp.
For a second, her thumb hovered over Vinny’s name.
Not to text, just to look. She didn’t open it.
Instead, she set the phone facedown and turned off the lamp.
In the dark, missing him felt worse because there was nothing useful to do with it.
She pulled the blanket up to her chin and let herself feel it without fixing it.
No goodnight came. That was what she had asked for.
Sophia closed her eyes and tried to sleep.