"Ma'am?" A voice says from behind me. I turn my head. It's the guy from the counter. "...your pizza is ready." He holds out a hot pizza, with extra pepperoni.
Crying, I take it from him with a weak smile. I try to muster a 'thank you' but no words leave my mouth. I settle for a sad nod.
He calls me a cab, which takes moments to arrive. I'm thankful, because I had no other way to my apartment otherwise. It won't feel like home though. Not without my yappy fur friend. The can takes me to 101 Lakeside Place. I pay the driver and get out of the car. He speeds off.
I gulp, staring at the dirty door to my new building. I approach, walking quickly through the dark, lit only by the dim light of the streets lamps. I punch in my entrance code 4321, I hope I don't forget it.
I go up the elevator. Tears have stopped and my eyes feel swollen. I arrive in front of unit 302, and open the door with a click. Inside all the boxes the movers brought over are scattered across the apartment. It's a one bedroom. Small kitchen, no dining room and a slight den area I plan to set up a couch and maybe a small table for meals. It's when I see a box labelled 'PICKLE'S STUFF' that it really hits me. The weight of the day comes crashing down. I drop the pizza box to the floor and the flood gates reopen. Of course I'm crying again. God, I'm so stupid! I should've brought Pickle into the pizzeria with me!
I slowly pudder my way to my bedroom and slump into my bare mattress. It's here that I find some sleep.
*BEEP* *BUZZ* *BUZZZZ* *BEEP BEEP*
What the..? I groggily open my eyes to my phone going off. I have several missed calls and texts. Cooper? I think. No, after closer inspection it's an unknown number. Weird. It's 2:47 am, who could be contacting me at this hour. Another texts comes through.
It reads: hello beautiful! This is Papa, from Papa's chain restaurants. I found this yappy dog. Doesn't shut up. Your number was on it's collar. Is it yours?
Follows by a picture. I open the image, my heart racing. Low and behold - it really is Pickle!!! She looks scared, but seems unharmed at least.
I immediately text my response: yes!! Thank you SO much! Where can I come get her??
Papa: meet me at Papa's Pancakeria at 5 am sharp. Don't be late baby girl!
Huh. That's a weird reply, but hey, at least I can get my dog back. The life returns to me again. Maybe everything WILL be okay after all.
I can't fall back asleep, for fear of missing my alarm and sleeping past 5 am. I don't want to keep Papa or Pickle waiting. I lay there in my bed, nervous. I Google the directions to Papa's Pancakeria and find it's only a few blocks away. I could walk there!
When 4 am hits, I can't take the waiting anymore. I dress myself in my regular clothes and make my way to Papa's. I have a certain skip in my step, knowing I'll be reunited with my best friend. I even grabbed some cash to give Papa as a thank you reward. After all, he did save the day.
I make it there early. I walk up to the glass doors of the restaurant. There's a sticky note that reads 'come on in baby girl'. I open the door, the lights are out. I flip the switch and the room becomes illuminated.
"Hello?" I say. My voice echoes in the empty room. I approach the counter, which holds another sticky note. Perplexed, I pick it up.
This one reads: 'your pooch is in the back. as repayment, you watch the shop for the next little bit. I'm away on business -Papa xoxo'
What? Watch the shop? I don't know the first thing about pancakes! I hope behind the counter and I open the kitchen doors. Pickle comes running and yapping over to me! Wagging her fluffy white tail, I find she's been adawned with a pink bow. Awwwww!!
I guess I do owe Papa, so I should probably prepare to open the shop. I gulp down my fears and find the list of tasks written down in the kitchen.
'OPEN AT 7 AM SHARP
ADD 300G POWDERED SUGAR TO MIX
INCORPORATE
COOK ON MEDIUM HEAT AND SERVE
DO DISHES
SWEEP FLOOR
CLEAN COUNTERS
CLOSE AT 5 PM
CUSTOMERS WILL TELL YOU WHAT THEY WANT - JUST GIVE IT TO EM!
-PAPA :* '
I sigh in relief. It doesn't sound too difficult. I quickly begin acquainting myself with where things are in the kitchen. I find the grills, the mix, and utensils with ease. Where's the powered sugar I wonder? I open and close several cupboards before I find a large container hand labelled 'powdered sugar' in scratchy handwriting. Oh Papa I found it!
I don't find the scale, so I do my best to eyeball measure it. I taste sine if the batter with a clean spoon. Doesn't seem too bad! Definitely a little bitter, so I add a bit more of the powdered sugar and mix it in. Should be fine now.
I await opening hour with anxiety. Pickle keeps me company. As the clock nears 7 am, I see a short line if people form at the door.
I practice saying "Welcome to Papa's Pancakeria! How can I help you?" Out loud.
I grow almost excited for what's to come. I can't help but be filled with energy.
I hope to make Papa proud!
new beginnings
Beginne am Anfang
