Page 15 of Pete and His Precious

“Can I help you?” the teenager behind the counter says, with a bored look.

I stare at her. What am I going to say? My mouth opens and closes.

“Do you want one of the specials?” she asks, like this is what everybody else has been saying and she’s going to help me,and make her life a little bit easier by not having to deal with someone who obviously can’t talk.

“I start to shake my head no, and such a look comes over her face, consternation, annoyance, the whole effect shouting as loud as if she had said, “Why are you standing there bothering me if you’re not going to place an order?”

This couldn’t have gotten more embarrassing.

“Lady, we’re waiting. And I’m hungry. Hurry up!” A very loud, very obnoxious voice shouts from behind me.

I swallow. I’ve never done this in my life before, but I nod and say, “Sure. I’ll take the special.” I have no intention of paying for it. Because I can’t. I’m going to take my number, and walk out the door with it, or set it on a table and then go to the bathroom and disappear. I don’t know. I’ve never done this before, like I said, and I don’t know how people who order things and then don’t pay for them actually do that.

But I’m going to find out. I have to do something.

“All right, one special,” she shouts, without even looking behind her. “Next!” she says, when I don’t move out of the way fast enough.

Everybody else gets drinks and napkins, and I figure that I probably should do that too, except I’m not eating.

Finally, I turn from the counter, but I stopped in my tracks when the teenager says, “Lady, here’s your number.” She doesn’t sound happy or kind.

I turn back around, putting a smile on my face, and feeling like a lesson kindness is probably best taught by leading by example, except I’m the one who is trying to cut out without paying for anything, and I probably am not the best person to be giving anyone any kind of moral lesson right now.

I just want to go home and curl up on the floor and cover myself with a blanket, but I’ve got to get out of this confounded restaurant first.

“Officer Pete!” a kid says, and runs up to the table where my nemesis/date, is waiting for...me.

He’s distracted, and this seems like the perfect time for me to escape. I turned to the right, knowing that the restrooms are that way, and start walking, unsure of what I’m going to do.

“Lady, aren’t you going to pay?”

Oh my goodness. That’s right. I have to pay before I get my food. I have to pay before I sit down. I have to pay...Now.

I feel my face heating so much it’s a wonder someone isn’t pointing at me and saying: fire, fire! I would actually welcome that right now. Because hopefully that would make everyone panic and run out of the restaurant, and I could go with them.

This is when I get for being so ridiculously stupid. I shouldn’t have agreed to a date. I shouldn’t have ordered the food. I shouldn’t have left my apartment. Ever.

“Have you seen my child?” a woman says to me, and I recognize her as one of the regulars at library story hour.

I put two and two together, and point toward Officer Pete’s table, i.e., animal rights police dude. “I think she’s talking to officer Pete,” I say, trying not to spit out the words Officer Pete, but say them kindly, the way everyone else in town says them.

“Oh, goodness. It’s so crowded in here today.”

“Lady,” the teenager says.

I move toward the counter, and I say, with lowered eyes, and an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I guess I forgot my wallet.”

“Are you serious?” The teenager rolls her eyes and punches a few buttons into her cash register.

“Give me that number back,” she says, putting her hand out, and not being the slightest bit nice about it.

I don’t say anything about her lack of manners, and I don’t have a reaction. I just put the number stand back in her hand, and turn around, wanting to slink out the door as fast as I can.

“I can pay for it,” a deep voice says, and I look up, embarrassed, but hopeful. Maybe it’s someone I know, someone who is stable, someone who is...not Officer Pete.

But, no such luck. You know how it is whenever one bad thing after another happens, and it’s like you just can’t stop the string of bad luck?

I guess it’s that old adage, it never rains but it pours. Yeah. It was deftly pouring on me. All kinds of bad things, but...what you do?

---