Chapter 10 Work...

Autumn, 1992.

Becka was wearing her jacket in front of the mirror dresser. She had gotten a job at Hart's, a restaurant on Sander road. It was getting cold, and she had to ensure not to forget her jacket, or she might catch a cold. She reached for her boots on the shoe rack and slipped it on. She combed her hair, put a hair band in, and looked at herself in the mirror. Nice, she thought. She carried her bag and left the room. She headed to the kitchen to have breakfast. "Good morning, everyone." she said with a smile, pulling out a chair to sit. "Good morning, Beck. I'm sure you'll be off to work soon." Scarlett said, pouring Becka a cup of coffee. "Yes. Thank you." she answered, as she collected the cup. "Biscuits and gravy." Darla said, placing a plate in front of Becka. "Yummy..." Becka said, tasting the meal. "I hope the biscuits aren't too hard. I'm pretty bad at baking cookies." Bel asked smilingly, spoon-feeding baby Sandra. "Don't mind." Becka replied, sipping some hot, creamy coffee. "How's your job at Hart's?" Scarlett asked. Becka smiled. "Nice." she simply answered, remembering she had to get to work by eight.

She glanced at her wristwatch. Twenty minutes to eight. She hurriedly finished her breakfast, carried her bag and was about to leave. "Wouldn't you kiss your baby goodbye?" Bel called after her. "I'm running late, Bel!" she waved, leaving the kitchen. She opened the main door of the house and went outside. She walked to the street and boarded a taxi.

In a few minutes, she was in front of the restaurant's building. She entered the warm thirty two seater restaurant. Few people were at the restaurant eating, and Becka knew that it was about ten minutes to eight. She was glad she wasn't late. The owner of the restaurant, Mr Fisher, was very strict concerning lateness to work. Becka had never gotten late to work, but she'd heard him lashing out at Winnie, one of the cooks. Becka went into the room by the left hand side and changed into work clothes. She threw on her apron and slipped behind the counter.

Two others- Michael and Kristena, were already there, attending to customers. "Good morning, Becka." Michael greeted me with a warm smile. Becka returned the smile. "Good morning." she replied. Kristena pinched her from behind, in her usual way of letting Becka remember she was there. "Oh, Kristena. Good morning." Becka said, feeling the pain where Kristena had pinched her. Kristena's fingernails were as long as a pencil, and although Mrs Cliff, the supervisor, had asked her to cut her fingernails to ensure hygiene, she refused to. "It's my pride." Kristena had told Becka. It was truly a pride, she thought. Kristena didn't have long hair, and wasn't so beautiful either.

Becka smiled as she brushed the thoughts off her mind as she saw a man come into the restaurant and get seated. Becka went to meet him, menu in hand. " Good morning sir. How can I help you?" she asked, handing the menu over to him. The man stared at it for a while. "Pancake and syrup, please." he finally said and gave her the menu. " What type of syrup, sir? Maple syrup is the best, sir, that's if you don't mind."Becka said, with a smile. The man smiled back, amazed by her charm. "Alright, then. Let me try that." he said. "Coffee or tea?" Becka asked. "Coffee, please." the man replied. Becka walked briskly back to the counter. She checked through the huge glass food holder. "Gotcha." she said to herself as she took out a plate of pancake and poured maple syrup on it. Kristena handed her a large mug of coffee. She set the meal in a tray, balanced it on her left hand and walked back to the man's table. She placed the tray on the table and dropped the bill. She sighted a man and a woman on another table, and went to attend to them.

By twelve o'clock in the afternoon, Becka was feeling tired. The customers had dwindled, since it was mid-day and most people were either at home or busy at work. Becka wiped sweat off her brow with her handkerchief. She felt nauseated by the smells of different kinds of food and sauces. She went out through the back door and threw up in the bushes. She spat and stood there for a while.

"Becka, are you okay?" she heard Michael's voice from behind her. She turned. He was on the steps, wearing a concerned look. "I'm fine." she replied. "Are you sure?" Michael asked. "Yes. I'm just tired." she replied, going up the steps and back into the building with him. She went behind the counter and sat on a stool. Mrs Cliff came in. "You can have a recess now, Becka." Mrs Cliff said. Michael came in from behind Mrs Cliff and Becka knew he had gone to tell Mrs Cliff that she had thrown up. Well, he was Mrs Cliff's nephew, so he had the boldness to do that. He confirmed this with a smile, and Becka returned the smile. She carried her bag, went to the back room and ate her lunch. She felt okay after a few minutes of rest, so she returned to her place behind the counter.

In the evening, when the restaurant finally closed, Becka was finally exhausted. All she could think of was bed rest. She went to the dressing room, changed into her clothes and put on her denim jacket. She carried her bag and left the room. Kristena had left for home, she noticed. Mrs Cliff was behind the counter with Michael, talking about something Michael had pointed out to her. "Well We'll have to tell the technician to come over here and check it." Becka heard Mrs Cliff say, and she knew it was the industrial dishwasher they were talking about. It has been making so much noise whenever it was used. Becka went towards the door.

Rain was drizzling. Oh, she had forgotten to take an umbrella. The skies were black and Becka was sure of a heavy downpour. She hoped it wouldn't take long. She ached to get home and curl up in bed. She pulled out a chair and sat. She had to wait for sometime. She had also forgotten to bring along the novel she had borrowed from the library. She rubbed her temples. She placed her head on the table and closed her eyes, hoping to get relieved from the throbbing headache she felt. She heard someone pull out a chair and sit opposite her. She caught a glimpse of Michael's blue jeans and heard a clicking sound. She knew it was Michael working on his laptop.

After the rain, she went outside, set to leave. She looked down the road; no single taxi. Maybe I should walk down the road, she reasoned. The door behind her. "Are you going home?" Michael asked, struggling into his coat. "Yes." Becka answered, wondering why he was asking her. Michael smiled at her. "Let me walk you home, it's getting dark." he said, still smiling. "Aren't you going home in Mrs Cliff's car?" she asked. He shook his head. "She's still busy. Moreover, we don't live in the same house." he answered. "Alright." Becka replied, then they walked down the road, discussing their childhood experiences.