Chapter 3 #2
I knew in my heart that he was the same guy from my other restaurant that morning. I felt bad for him, so I cautiously took a seat that was only a few stools away from him. I had my hands full, carrying my things and the menus I was cleaning for Tatum.
I was certain that it was him. He had given me a hundred and sixty-eight dollars, and I still had it in my wallet.
I was planning on giving it back to him.
It looked like he needed it worse than I did.
He had his arm sprawled across the bar in a straightened position with his head resting on it like he was a school kid taking a nap on his desk.
His eyes were closed when I set down my things and pulled out the stool.
There were three empty stools between us, but I made enough noise that he stirred. He didn't open his eyes.
I put the menus in a stack in front of me so that I could work on them one at a time.
"Are you going to eat your Southwest rolls?" I asked, wiping.
"No," he answered calmly without opening his eyes.
After a few seconds, his eyes cracked open.
He raised his head a little, and we made eye contact, but he stared straight through me with a dazed, emotionless expression before putting his head on the bar again.
"Do you work here too?" he asked in a monotone voice, closing his eyes again.
"Yes. I was working a minute ago. I'm off now, but I'm staying late to clean these menus and make sure the bar's clean for my friend."
"Are you the woman from the restaurant this morning, with the eggs?"
"Yes," I said simply.
He didn't say anything else, and we were quiet for what must've been two full minutes after that.
Patrick brought over a hamburger with French fries and set it on the bar next to him. He cleared his throat. "Here's your hamburger, sir. Let me know if you need anything else. In a few minutes, the kitchen will be closing, except for appetizers."
"Thank you. I'm fine. I'll eat this soon."
Patrick glanced at me with a shrug and an odd expression.
I shrugged at him and made a face like I felt bad for the guy, which I did.
He stayed there, quiet and unmoving. He was a large man.
I had seen him and his grandfather standing next to each other, and I knew this guy was a big man, but it wasn't until I was there sitting next to him that I could truly appreciate his stature.
He was friendly and not imposing, so I hadn't fully noticed before.
Even now, it was hard to see, but I could see his long arm and the way it reached across the bar, combined with the way his legs rested on the floor.
I glanced at him every now and then as I cleaned the menus.
After another minute, his eyes opened, and eventually our eyes met when I glanced that way.
"Two jobs?" he asked.
"Technically three."
"Where else?"
"A daycare. I work with four-year-olds."
"You can eat this stuff if you want," he said. He sat up on his stool, but he stared ahead so blankly that I could tell his mind was somewhere else. "You could help me eat this food if you want," he repeated.
The truth was that I was starving. I had worked a long shift. It was a family-owned business, and they were tight with their food and only gave us a twenty percent discount.
"The southwest rolls are tempting," I said, since they had been doing nothing but sitting there getting cold.
"Eat 'em," he said, nudging his chin that way.
"I'll finish my cleaning, and if you're still not making a dent in them when I'm done, I'll see about helping you out."
It was five or ten minutes later when I stashed the last of my restaurant cleaning supplies, washed my hands, and sat next to him again. I sat closer this time. His head was down on the bar again by the time I got there.
"If you're sleepy, I could box this stuff for you."
"I'm not sleepy, I'm just relaxing. I thought you were coming back over here to eat this stuff with me."
"I did. I am."
He sat up in his stool, looking straight ahead and not at me. He gestured to the food that had been sitting in front of him on the bar this whole time. "Help yourself," he said.
"I thought you would share with me," I replied, not wanting to reach for his food.
He pointed at it. "I am sharing with you. I'm sharing the whole thing. You can have it all."
"No, I wanted you to eat some."
"I'm not hungry," he said.
"Why are you here? Why'd you order food?"
"Why so many questions?" he asked.
"I don't know. I guess if I'm going to sit down and share food with someone, I like to ask a few basic questions. I like to know what I'm ingesting."
He shrugged. "It's food from your restaurant," he said. "No one's forcing you to eat it."
He was so emotionless and matter-of-fact that it took me off guard.
I felt a rush of embarrassment, and I stood up without thinking twice about it.
I dug for my wallet. I easily found the wad of cash that I tucked away.
I was about to bring it out of my purse and set it on the table when I felt his big hand on my arm.
"I'm sorry," he said in that same deep monotone voice. "Please sit with me and eat."
I could tell he meant it, so I didn’t make him beg. I sat back, placing my purse on the bar next to me. I took one of the eggroll pieces and dipped it in soy-ginger sauce before eating half of it in one bite.