Dominique Fabre: The Waitress Was New

At eleven Amédée came out of the kitchen to ask me if the boss’s wife would be eating with her husband. I’d have my meal later, about three in the afternoon, he’d be sure to set a daily special aside. I thanked him, and then I served the first apéritifs. The phone rang as I was serving a kir royal to a salesman from the Neubauer car dealership, he’d just closed a sale, he’d got a certified check for 42,000 euros and was buying his buddies a drink to celebrate. I caught myself smiling as I overheard his story, how he’d reeled in the customer after just three meetings, and as for the car I bet myself he’d be telling them all about it in the five minutes to come. That was a favorite topic of conversation around here, and then for the past few years there were cellphones and computers, too. I’d stopped before then. Would my life have been better if I’d been able to buy that kind of car? At least I was in no danger of breaking the speed limit. I was in the booze business, and those two don’t mix well, if you don’t mind my saying. I dried my hands and picked up the receiver, I could hear the noise from the train station, which is easy to ignore except between noon and three. I’m a little hard of hearing in my left ear, even though I was never much of a masturbator. I have troubles with my memory too, but anyway. I said “hello hello hello” ten times or so, someone was making a crackling noise on the other end. Where was he? It was my beloved boss. He had a problem, was it serious? “No, it’s OK. ” Anyway, I didn’t hear the whole thing, and he asked me to tell his wife to come down now, he wasn’t going to be able to get back. I bit my tongue to keep from suggesting he do his dirty work himself, and like any barman who knows his job I didn’t ask why he wasn’t calling her on their private line. I’d noticed he had his glum face on this morning, and the sullen way he was smoking, but I didn’t think it was that bad. He’d already pulled this stunt once, back before the renovation. He was the restless type. He’d stayed away for three days, which completely did us in at Le Cercle, and then he came back fresh as a daisy.

“Got it, boss.”

“So everything will be OK?”

That’s what he wanted to know, now the connection was clear, I realized he was in a car, somewhere somebody honked at him. He sounded like a little kid caught in the act.

“No problem, we’ll manage.”

“How’s the new girl?”

I looked over at her, without meaning to. She was smiling at Amédée through the pass-through, he hadn’t started hitting the beer yet, but he would once she turned in the first orders. You might have thought she’d been here for centuries, except she wasn’t yet forty.

“She’s great, she’s a pro.”

I must have been a union organizer in another life, because apart from a guy called Bruno who screwed everything up around here, in the bar and the dining room and the kitchen, with his asshole ways and his secret love affairs, we’ve had nothing but good workers at Le Cercle, the boss, his wife, and me.

“Terrific. See you later.”

“That’s right, boss, nothing to worry about.”

I hung up.

I thought about my dream again, but I didn’t have time to go into it because sometimes we get a big rush all of a sudden. There was a nip in the air outside. Usually the office workers spend their food allowance in the bakery next door, making sure not to go over their limit, but sometimes they come here for a hot dish, especially when the weather’s bad. I don’t look outside too much because everything that matters to me in life always ends up sitting down at my bar, but just then I had a feeling, and I looked out toward the street. Yes, it was going to rain. Now the office workers sitting on the benches across the tunnel with a novel or magazine might be coming in, and then there were also the guys from the new Monsieur Meuble furniture store, they always took time for lunch, you’d think they had no idea that the people who were at that same spot before had all gone off to sign up at our wonderful local employment agency. I say “wonderful” so as not to demoralize the French family, and also because I’ve been there myself. I served a young couple, they looked like lovers to me. “I’ll have a small scotch, what about you?” “Me? Same thing.” And then the woman changed her mind, she was a petite blonde in high heels and a pink jacket with a scarf knotted over it, still tanned from the summer that had been over for two months now. On second thought, she wanted a Coke. Then I got the usual “small beer, no head” from a young guy who often came to Le Cercle, dressed all in black, his nose always stuck in a book, a collection of poetry in paperback, and other sorts of books too, he covered them with gift-wrap, and I’d concluded they were either valuable or smutty. Of course, they’ve got videos for that sort of thing nowadays. I always tried to make out the titles when his back was turned. No smut there. Which didn’t particularly surprise me, to tell the truth. Sometimes I bought myself a copy of one of his books at the new bookstore on the Rue Maurice-Bokanovski, just out of curiosity.

“Thanks, Pierre.”

“You bet.”

I saw him almost every day. All in all, he seemed like a kid who needed a blowjob and then a Mars bar, or maybe even both at the same time. What will you have done with your youth, my lad?

Now I could feel cold sweat trickling down from my armpits, I made change for a guy who often came in for a cup of tea, he’d asked for a glass of water so he could take some pills, completely bald, white pants, pit-bull neck, and half-moon glasses on a silver chain. “Thank you sir, have a good day.” Alopecia, that word came to me all of a sudden, because of the crossword puzzles I do. My last girlfriend got me started on those, and I’ve grown very fond of them now that I’m alone. He nodded, and my thoughts turned to cancer. I tried to switch to Kojak instead, but not for too long, those were bad times when I watched Kojak on TV. Madeleine was standing by at the ready. She kept a professional smile within easy reach of her lips, she’d redone them now, I like that little face they make just afterwards, that little pout to even out the lipstick. I told Amédée the news about the boss. I’d see to the sandwiches, along with Madeleine. He looked at me, his hands busy with the whipped cream for the desserts, and gave me a big African frown, he was very interesting to look at.

“The boss isn’t here, his wife’s not here, Sabrina’s not here! What the fuck is going on in this dump?”

Our cook liked to curse, like most cooks, come to mention it, I’d figured that out little by little in the various places I’ve worked. I didn’t answer. If you asked me, he was the best cook in Asnières in our price range, and the fact that the boss was gone wouldn’t change anything on the other side of the pass-through. Amédée always yelled at him too when he tried to come into the kitchen. Only the boss’s wife was allowed, as long as she didn’t touch anything. I went back to the bar, things were going to get rough if she didn’t come down in the next half hour. I told the new girl it was going to be a hard shift, the boss had got held up at the last minute. She shrugged, I guess she was feeling sleepy.

“What’s he up to? Where is he? Do you know, Pierrounet?”

I wasn’t supposed to know, so I raised my arms toward the ceiling. I was just about to call his wife when she came in through the front door, much to my relief.

She’d been looking younger and younger these past few weeks. I didn’t much care why, professionally speaking, but I had an idea. She greeted the customers at the bar on her way past, she even gave the lunch tables a quick scan, like a radar sweep, and she went straight in to say hello to Amédée, he’s the first person you have to greet in a café-restaurant, because it’s the cook that counts at this time of day. Still, I was second in line, and then she went over to the new girl with a big smile, she gave her one more briefing, and they seemed to respect each other completely, two old pros in the restaurant business and love stories gone bad. Sometimes, on special occasions, we’d say hello with a quick kiss on the cheek.