Wicked Prompts

FLYING MAN

As if in a dream- the wind blasting through my hair, over my body, I am flying faster and faster, in perfect form. The horror is gone. There is nothing but certainty now, and though awful, there is relief in certainty.

I was working at the restaurant today, helping with a special brunch we were hosting for some bank execs. Lucy asked me to fill in for her because her kid is sick. She's a sweet girl and her kid is always sick. I try to do whatever I can to help.

Anyway, it was going to workout well for me today because I could get off early. I still had to buy Grace something for our anniversary and I could pick up Nathan after his first full day of pre-school.

In the early morning, I was taken by the skyline with the sun rising over the harbor and the warm yellow light that bathed the dining area. I was never up there in the mornings, so while I'd seen a hundred or more sunsets, the sunrise was a new experience. In my forty short years I'd come to value new experiences the same way I valued a good bottle of wine or glass of scotch, or taking Nathan anywhere for the first time.

Sasha was calling about something from the kitchen so I broke my trance and ran in to see what she needed. Apparently, the platters of fresh fruit hadn't arrived yet from the warehouse downstairs. I offered to run down to the basement levels to try and hurry them along, but she needed me to stay put, to make sure all the place settings were in order. The morning staff were mostly new and she wanted to make sure they didn't screw it up. I grabbed a stack of plates from the dry bin and turned right back around for the dining hall.

People were bustling, I was busy doing something I do well, which is make sure things looks nice.

I'm good at my job. It only takes me an hour to memorize an entirely new menu and I haven't used a notepad since I was twenty-three. I can manage five to seven full tables at a time and my average tip is twenty-five percent.

I haven't served in years but when I did I could balance a forty-two pound tray in one hand and hold five plates in the other. All with a smile on my face and a quick-lipped joke at the ready.

Maybe it was the change-up of the shifts or the new faces or leaving Nathan at school for the first time, but I felt uneasy. I tried to identify the source of the anxiety, to shift it out of my mind, but it kept returning between brief lolls in the work.

I walked past Axel, a young man who would be waiting for the first time this morning. He'd been a server for over a year and looked a bit nervous, gazing over the empty dining tables like it was a gladiator arena. I had put a reassuring hand on his shoulder as I walked past.

I'm still flying, though my mind wanders the hills connecting the before with now. The before when everything was normal, routine, and full of hopefulness that years left to do things tend to embroider, with the now of finality.

My posture is like Superman with my right arm extended in front and my left leg tucked up high as if ready for a soccer kick. The posture seems to stabilize me, make me more aerodynamic, more perfect.

Earlier this morning, Sasha was calling from the kitchen again and I realized I'd left my cell phone at home.

Another pin in the anxiety cushion, but not really a big deal. I'd be off work by three, and Nathan's school finished at four. Plenty of time. I had just spoken to my parents yesterday, so no worries there.

Sasha had gotten a call from the service level. The fruit was ready but they needed someone to go downstairs to sign for it.

It was a hundred floors down but the elevators are fast. I glanced at my watch, it was eight forty-five. It should have taken me about fifteen minutes round-trip, including the inventory and sign-off. I told Sasha I'd be back and asked Gerald, one of the senior waitstaff to keep an eye on things. I took my apron off and threw it on one of the counters in the outer corridor, hoping the cooking crew didn't throw it on the floor in their haste to ready the entrees.