The Ways of Hunger

The croissant is just for show. Anyone paying an ounce of attention could see that she hasn't eaten anything containing that much butter in decades, let alone layered with chocolate. Sitting alone, occasionally sipping an herbal tea, and staring into space with her hands resting motionless on the keyboard of her laptop. She must feel the need to order something other than tea to justify taking up a four top table during the lunch hour. Well maintained, somewhere in her mid fifties she has the permanently surprised expression women get from having too much work done. She looks up expectantly as the horrendous bells chime and cold air rushes through the front door. If you were looking closely you might catch a hint of disappointment in her otherwise perfect posture although the face doesn’t move.

The couple bounding through the door is young, their relationship fresh without any of the scarring that can begin to show on most relationships after time. In the center of the small dining room, consuming the attention that they naturally attract, they struggle to choose one of the few open tables, one too close to the front door, one too close to the bathroom. Finally, he motions toward the last booth in the back, “Perfect”, she trills, clapping her hands and bouncing a bit.

Having slid into the same side of the booth they gaze at each other with anticipation as if what they shall have for lunch is the greatest decision of the day. They lean into each other, sharing one menu, and discuss their sandwich options with loud and creepy joy.

Jacob, approaching their table, uses his well rehearsed, fake smiled, enthusiasm, “And how are we today?”

“Ravenous”, they reply in unison, and giggle wildly.

Oh my God, I hate you both. You are human wedding cake toppers.

Jacob knew that he would end his serving career when one of these gems escaped his brain through his mouth. That could not be today.

“Well, you are in the right place!”, he struggled through his phony, yet believable laugh. “I will bring you some water. Would you like something else to drink or do you have any questions about the menu?”

“We are both fine with just water. Can you please, please, tell us what is your most favorite thing on the menu? “ She asks with childish enthusiasm.

The last thing Jacob wanted to deal with was the overly happy in love straight people.

I need the money. I need the money. I need the money, he repeated the mantra over and over in his head. Things in Jacobs life had recently gotten dire.

Trying to mirror her enthusiasm for a sandwich he replied, “You could die happy this afternoon if you have the Monte Christo”.

“Oooh! Thats what I wanted,” she squealed, “We will share one of those! We won’t even need an extra plate.”

“Of course you won’t,” Jacob smiled through gritted teeth. Turning away he noticed Croissant Lady had left. He hadn’t noticed how fast time was passing although it had been a little slower than usual. Croissant Lady had been coming in twice a month, always on Thursday for more than six months, maybe close to a year, he wasn't sure. She would arrive promptly at eleven thirty, sit at the same table, order a cinnamon spice tea and a chocolate croissant, stare blankly at her laptop, never typing a thing, and only look up when the front door would open. At precisely 12:45 she would fold up her laptop, leave twice the amount of cash that it cost for the tea and the untouched croissant, and leave without a word.

As Jacob picked up the cash, and the croissant, he thought again that he absolutely needed to know her story. Who could she be waiting for that never showed up, and how much longer would she do this, and why here, and why Thursday? He had failed, not for lack of effort, to lure her into any conversation. He had tried with the weather, current news events, lunch specials anything that he could think of, but she would never bite. She would smile stiffly, nod, and politely order her tea and croissant. He stood trying to remember exactly the first time that she had come.

“Excuse me. Excuse me.”

“Dammit. Dammit. Dammit,” Jacob thought, realizing that he hadn’t placed Happy Couple’s order.

“Just a minute,” he called over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.

Through the swinging doors and heading toward the hotline Jacob started, “I need a Monte Christo on the fly. I don’t need your shit. Just do this for me and I will ring it up in two minutes.”

“Two beers after shift.”

“Fine asshole. Whatever. Just do it.”

“Make that four.”

Jacob breezed back out without ever losing stride. It wasn’t worth arguing with Sweaty Doug. Such a douche.

Back on the floor Jacob stopped to print a check and drop it at a four top of Suits. He loved the Suits. They come in, they are short on time, they order, they eat, they leave and if you don’t fuck up up anything too badly they are good for twenty percent.

“Sorry that took a minute,” Jacob apologized to Happy Couple, “what can I do for you?”

“Ooooh, I am so, so, so sorry but I think that I forgot to tell you that I am allergic to cheese. Can you only put cheese on half of our sandwich? Please, Please, Please?”

Could you spontaneously light on fire right now? Please, Please, Please?


“Oh, sure, not a problem. I am sure your order is already done but it’s just cheese, we can pull it off.”

“Oooh Nooo! I can’t even eat anything that touches cheese. Do you think you could make a new one?”

Seriously, I don’t make the food. Do I look like I make the fucking food?

That one so badly wanted to come out.

“I don’t think that will be a problem. You will just have to wait a few extra minutes.”

“Yay! I told you that nothing was going to ruin this perfect day”, she sing songed to her Mr. Happy Couple.

Jacob was clear about two things as he headed toward the kitchen, first, claiming contact allergy to cheese actually blows out the bullshit meter, and second, there wasn’t an icicles chance in hell that he would ask Sweaty Douche Doug to remake that sandwich.

“Order up!”

“Thanks Doug. I will be back for that in a minute,” Jacob said casually, needing to waste a little time, but hoping to avoid the barking contest that almost seemed crucial to Sweaty’s survival.

“You needed it on the fly. It is ready now. Take it before it dies in the window.”

“Doug, can you please not? I just need a minute.”

“Not what, Jakey? The food is ready. It will either dry out in the window, or get cold out of the window. I had to go out of my way to make it in a hurry, putting orders that were actually rung in behind, and now you need a fucking minute? Take the God Damn sandwich.”

Jacob pulled the sandwich out of the window, crept into the server station and quickly removed one half of the melted cheese which took with it one slice of ham, most of the mayo and a good amount of the jam.

“I told you nothing was going to ruin this perfect day,” he mimicked under his breath heading for Happy Couple’s table.

Back behind the counter refilling Happy Couple’s water glasses Jacob heard the front door jingling open behind him. He reminded himself, once again, to take advantage of one of his early morning solo shifts to make those obnoxious bells disappear.

Without looking back he said, “Take a seat. I will be right with you.”, and took long strides toward the HC”s table, hoping that at best they would be content, and at worst, not significantly more needy.

“Oh Thank you. Thank You,” chirped Mrs. Happy Couple, bouncing some more, “Everything is perfection and without cheese! Yay!”

Walking back toward the front with a little less purpose in his step Jacob wondered tiredly if remarkable enthusiasm such as that could actually be maintained. That is when, recognizing the figure standing just inside the door, he was stopped in his tracks.

It was Trevor. Not Trevor but the Shell that used to house Trevor.

“Not now, Trev. Not here.”

“Jacob, I know you have some. You’ve been the only server on today and plenty of people have been in. I just need a little cash. Just to get me through. I know you have some. Just this once. I will pay you back.”

“You’ve been watching me? How long have you been out there?”

“Jacob, just give me a little and I will go away and leave you alone.”

Jacob didn’t want to be left alone. Jacob had never wanted to be alone. He wanted Trevor all of the time. Living alone for the last month, struggling to make rent on the apartment that they had shared, not wanting to give it up on the slim hope that his Trevor would come back. This wasn’t his Trevor. Looking the Shell up and down he searched desperately for any sign that Trevor was in there. He wasn’t.

Jacob reached into the pocket of his apron, pulled out a twenty and held it out.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” the Shell asked but Jacob turned and walked towards Happy Couple not needing to answer.

He was cashing out Happy Couple and hadn’t realized that someone had come in as Trevor was heading out and when he looked up to see Old Man it was like God had answered a prayer that he didn’t know that he had said. Somehow, lately, Old Man always showed up like an answer to a prayer.

“Old Man!!”, Jacob bellowed startling Happy Couple on their way out.

“Old Man my ass. When are you going to start calling me Jerry?”

“Never, Old Man, Never. You know how I roll. Everyone gets a nickname. Besides, you know your nickname. No one else even knows their nickname. You are special. Dare I say elite.”

“You are ridiculous. Speaking of nicknames, what the hell did the Shell want?”

The Old Man knew all about the Shell.

“What do you think?”

“And did you?”, he asked, although he knew the answer.

As the last few lunch customers filtered out Old Man took his favorite place at the counter.

He and his wife used to come sit at the counter for lunch at least three times a week. They and Jacob had gotten to know and love each other over the years. It was a beautiful symbiosis. They were a childless couple that had always longed for a son and he desperate for guidance having been abandoned by his parents after coming out as a teen.

These days, his wife’s dementia had taken her too far away, he came in alone, sporadically, when she was quietly resting and a caretaker was available for an hour or two in the afternoon.

Jacob climbed onto the stool next to Old Man.

“What can I get for you today?”

“Time for a coffee and a chat?”, Old Man’s eyes were pleading.

“I’ve been starving for just that,” Jacob exhaled feeling that it was the first honest thing that he had said out loud all day.