Chapter 4
On the same night
Fifty dollars for a coffee? The powerful guy is definitely not a regular customer. This is, without a doubt, the highest tip I’ve ever received during the six months I’ve been working here.
After putting the money in the cash register, I jot down the amount in the little notebook where I keep track of my tips.
This might be my first real job, but I’ve learned enough from Mama Heloísa about people to keep my guard up when it comes to the manager.
More than once, he’s tried to shortchange me on what the customers left for me, and those weren’t even as high as this one.
I think again about the man who was here this morning. He said he had business to attend to in the area, and I joked, but seriously now, I don’t see how someone so well-dressed could even step out of the car in this neighborhood.
Actually, judging by the cleanliness of his shoes, I doubt he’s ever even walked down a street before.
The thought makes me laugh.
Of course he walks, silly. Unless he’s some kind of superhero with the power to fly.
Seriously, my fertile imagination sometimes surprises even me.
I remember what he said about me going to college.
How do you tell a complete stranger that any dream of studying was forgotten in order to take care of my adoptive mother’s health for the last three and a half years?
And anyway, even without the illness, we wouldn’t have had the money for college—maybe a community college, as he suggested.
When we found out about the cancer, I didn’t think twice about putting everything aside for her.
If it weren’t for Mama Heloísa, I probably would have been raised in an orphanage until I became an adult, or maybe even gone through worse.
Not all orphans are blessed with a good family.
I grew up surrounded by love and kindness, and I owe everything I am to her.
Our health insurance only covered part of her expenses, so her savings were used to pay for medication, as well as many tests.
When Mama passed away, I had nothing. Not even friends.
The ones I made in high school disappeared as soon as they found out I wasn’t exactly pleasant company anymore.
I was tired all the time because I wanted to make her last days on this planet as pleasant as possible.
We both knew there wouldn’t be many. The doctors were very honest from the beginning.
I used my free time to make brigadeiros and supply them to a local grocery store.
A brigadeiro[3] is a typical Brazilian sweet, and I sold every single one I made.
The money was meager, but it helped with expenses.
Mama was an excellent cook, and although my talent doesn’t come close to hers, I still managed to earn some extra cash.
I’ve always been very proud of her. Her life story is an example for anyone.
She saved money for years while still very young and came from Brazil to here, fulfilling her dream of visiting the United States.
Just two days after arriving in the country, she met an American man and fell in love. They got married shortly after.
Unfortunately, she became a widow in less than six years, and instead of going back to her country, she fought and faced the adversities alone. She managed to graduate as a social worker and started working in the profession. She was thirty-two years old when I came into her life.
The information she gave me was never even close to enough for me to unravel my origins. All we knew is that someone left me wrapped in a pink blanket at the door of an orphanage—one that Mama Heloísa supervised—on a summer day.
There was no note. Nothing. So I don’t even know the day of my birthday for sure. They assumed I was left there at about a month old, which means I must have been born in May. From what I’ve researched about zodiac signs, I have more Gemini characteristics, so I think I’m from the end of May.
After I grew up, I tried to do some research on the internet to see if I could find anything about my past, but without resources and then without time either, since I spent the day taking care of my mother, I ended up shelving the project.
We were always close, but in her last years of life, we became inseparable. When she wasn’t too tired or in too much pain, she would tell me about her life in Brazil, and I was so fascinated that I told her I would visit the country as soon as I had enough money.
That’s my biggest project after paying off the debts, although I have several others, including going back to school.
I want to go to Brazil, more precisely to Minas Gerais, to visit my mother’s family. She said they lived in the countryside of the state and were very humble, so they never managed to save enough money to come visit her.
Mama Heloísa’s life wasn’t a bed of roses in economic terms either, and after she adopted me, it became even more complicated, so we never went to her country either. Thus, she lost all contact with her relatives, but I promised her that I would look for them one day.
I would like to take some photographs of Mama to them and also see the places she talked about. It may sound crazy, but from hearing her tell stories, I feel like her city is a bit mine too.
I take off my apron and look at the watch on my wrist, wondering if I’ll have time to take a shower before the night shift.
Today I’ll be working until two in the morning, in addition to the shifts I did during the day—one of them to cover for Janice, a colleague who is sick. I’m dead tired, but these Friday tips help me a lot to pay the rent for the little room I’m living in.
This is already my third job since Mama passed—but the first for an establishment, since the others were odd jobs—and the one that’s paid the best so far.
However, I’ve been thinking about applying to work at a famous coffee shop chain that opened positions the other day, because there the shifts are more reasonable and the hourly wage is more than double what I earn here.
On the other hand, I’ll lose the tips from Friday and Saturday, so I need to think carefully about what to do.
I decide to go for the shower because I don’t like being in a dress when working at night. There’s live music, alcohol sales are allowed, and some customers tend to get carried away after a few drinks. Besides, it will make my life easier at the end of the shift. I’ll be able to leave quickly.
Of all the things Mr. Delicious said this morning, the most accurate is that this area isn’t safe at night, but I’ve never felt afraid, since it’s only a two-block walk from my apartment.
I’m almost entering the bathroom when I hear the manager’s voice calling me.
“Olívia, I need you here.”
I try to hold back the nausea that hits me every time I have to interact with him. If there’s something I don’t like about the night shift, it’s the fact that I have to be alone with Thomas before the customers arrive. He always makes me uncomfortable.
Thomas is only two years older than me, but at first, he tried to play the protector.
When I rebuffed his advances, the apparent interest turned into immediate antipathy.
He now picks on everything I do, and after standing serving coffee for eight hours, don’t blame me for not feeling excited to face him.
Before I can return to the main dining area of the restaurant, he’s in front of me. I try to look at him without showing fear, but the truth is, his size, combined with his somewhat bizarre personality, has always made me uneasy.
His advances never made me feel physically threatened, although I had to be very explicit in pushing him away.
He’s a former high school football player and acts as if he’s still on the field, with all the fans adoring him.
When he realized I was immune to his charm, both because I was never attracted to him and because he has a very pregnant wife waiting for him at home, he did everything in his power to badmouth my work.
“Forty-eight dollars and fifteen cents in tips from a single customer? Do you think I’m stupid?
” he asks, shaking the restaurant’s tip register notebook, in which employees are required to record the tips from each table.
Tips here aren’t pooled. Each person gets according to the tables they served.
I look at him, thinking that if I answer his question directly, I’ll be fired on the spot, so I decide to be diplomatic.
“That’s the correct amount, sir. I’m sure you’ve already done the math at the cash register and verified that everything is correct.
” I chose to call him sir from the start to maintain a clear distance between us.
“I have, but I don’t believe it. I want to know what you offered besides the coffee to receive such a high tip.”
I feel my cheeks heat up because it takes me less than five seconds to understand what he’s insinuating.
He comes closer and invades my personal space. For the first time since I’ve known him, I’m afraid.