● above is a photo of Sophia at her most recent art museum visit●
"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, sir!" I exclaimed as I stared in terror at the mess I just spilled all over the man's pastrami melt sandwich. It was once a warm, beautifully plated dish but now, my weak arm couldn't handle the weight of the water jug and pouring the ice cold water into a glass didn't go so well, for my apron or for my customer's meal.
But to my luck, the man was kind to me. "Oh, don't worry about it. You didn't mean to," he replied calmly. I could feel the daggers of my boss's eyes digging into the back of my skull and I tried to stay calm and polite. I apologized once again as I whipped out a rag from my belt loop and immediately starting soaking up the water on the table. "I'll get another sandwich for you going as soon as possible," I said out of breath, I was frantically cleaning what I could. "It'll be on the house, again I am so sorry." I handed the customer a pile of napkins as he gave me a reassuring smile that I did not deserve.
I quickly walked back toward the kitchen double doors, avoiding eye contact with my boss. "Joey!" I called as I entered the kitchen, "I need another pastrami melt as quickly as possible."
My coworker tipped his head up in my direction, "I just served one ou-"
"I know, I screwed up; just please, I need another one," I interrupted.
Joey sighed and wiped the sweat off his forehead with a rag and nodded. He slapped some meat onto the stove to the left of him and didn't ask anymore questions.
I grabbed a towel from the rack near the employee bathroom and started to pat my green apron dry before I went out to take orders again; before I went out onto the main floor and embarrassed myself again.
I groaned out in frustration. This was only day six after completing my training here at the Shrimp Shack and I've already proven myself clumsy twice within 3 days. Last Tuesday, I didn't see the wet floor sign and slipped into another customer's bar stool and his raspberry margarita went flying into his barbecue chicken wings. And now today, although not as bad of a situation, I spilled something else. All within 72 hours.
I wondered what my mom would think if she was sitting at a table while I spilled that water. She probably drop her chin down and creak her neck towards my father and exchange frowns with him. She then would pull out her phone, tap on my sisters contact and type, "We miss you, hope you're doing well. It's probably better than how Sophie is doing," then add a few disgusted emojis and hit send.
I sighed at my daydream and tried to focus on the now. Mom wasn't here and Penny wasn't here to make me look like a piece of garbage compared to her shining personality and success. After all, thats why I was here, in this city, in this restaurant, to get away from my family.
Back home in Broken Hill, things were never in my favor if my sister was around. Especially when I announced to my family members that university wasn't something for me. My mother's mouth gaped open, my father crossed his arms and his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose and my sister just shook her head. I had disappointed my family in the worst way I could have and they honestly weren't even surprised. They never expected anything good out of me. Not when someone like Penny was my sister. She was the perfect child; had straight A's all through high school and uni, she was confident, she met the love of her life in school, and is going to be a doctor soon. She was everything my parents wanted me to be, but she was something I couldn't be.
I tried to be, though. I started university with a major in Medical Technology and made it to my second year until I realized I couldn't lie to myself or my family anymore. I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to live by the ocean, not in a red desert. I wanted to paint, not take temperature. I wanted to do everything my parents didn't want me to.
So now I'm here, in the back of the kitchen of my new job in Queensland. I was finally away from my family's cloud of disappointment raining over me and I was surrounded by rainforests, beaches and new people who don't expect me to be something.
Well, maybe a better waitress.
I snapped back to reality and gave my apron one last pat down. I picked up the plate with the new pastrami sandwich and thanked Joey. I headed back onto the floor and placed the dish in front the customer I recently spilled on and gave him a smile.
I didn't spot my boss, Scarlett, anywhere so I continued with my duties and sat a couple parties down. This time, I'm not going to mess up.
☼
Eight o'clock rolled around and my shift was over. It was successful, no more slip ups. I assumed that my work effort after the whole incident was enough to avoid a lecture from my boss and I promised myself I would never have that talk with her.
I said goodnight to Joey and walked outside. The Shrimp Shack was only a block from the beach but the ocean was still in sight once you walked out the door. The sunset was gorgeous, it always was. Streaks of pink and white captured my eye and the sun was tucking into the horizon. This was a wonderful way to end my day. And I looked forward to every other day ahead of this one.
Apparently, I was still standing close to the door because I was pushed over a little bit once it opened.
"Oh, my bad," a familiar male voice popped. I looked over my shoulder and recognized my co-worker Noah. He was the bartender at the Shrimp Shack, but that was on the other side of the restaurant so I never saw him much. Which was an absolute tragedy because Noah was total model material.
He was tan and built tall. His hair was a golden brown with natural highlights, something I wanted to achieve when I dyed my hair brunette a few weeks ago, and he pulled it back into a low bun. Noah also grew a nice beard, it was cut sharp not too long, not too short. His eyes were a captivating blue that any girl could easily get lost in.
"Are you alright?" Noah asked, closing the door behind him. I laughed forcefully, "Yeah, I'm okay. Don't worry about it."
He smiled in return and my heart melted. I really needed to start hanging out with him in the break room.
Noah noticed the sunset I was observing seconds before and he seemed to stop and take it in too. I joined him, we stood shoulder to shoulder and soaked up the beautiful sight in front of us. We stayed silent for a bout a minute or so until Noah spoke up, "Kind of a tough day, huh? Joey told me about the spill."
I winced at the memory and sighed, "Yeah, it wasn't good. I was surprised that Scarlett didn't drag me by the ear into her office though."
He only scoffed at my joke, "Yeah well, don't let it happen again."
I was taken back by that. I turned my head toward him with a confused look displayed across my face, but he didn't seem to notice. Did he seriously just act like my boss? What was with the attitude? This was the first time we've ever talked.
With that, he turned around and walked the other way. I was so confused, Noah was so handsome and dashing, but he definitely didn't have the charming personality to go with it, at least with my experience. I expected him to say, "Hey, well it's okay. You'll start to get the hang of things," or "Yeah, you got lucky, nice job playing it off." Not some bossy remark.
I shrugged it off, I didn't have to get along with everyone. I stayed to watch the colorful sky fade into a dark blue canvas then decided to head home. My apartment was only about a block and a half from work so the walk was easy.
As my black vans stomped against the cement sidewalk, the city of Carins was still alive. Florescent lights of a small supermarket gleamed on the cars parked by the curb, some surfers had their boards in hand ready for a night surf, the bar next door was loud with the shouts of fans watching the latest game of football, and the pier was bright with lights. And I loved every sight and smell there was, this was nothing like home. In Broken Hill, all there was to see was a bunch of red rocks and red sand and beaten up Jeep Wranglers. I had brought my own burnt orange one with me, although I never used it because work was within walking distance. But I used to drive all the time. When Penny showed up on weekends from uni, I hopped in the drivers seat and just drove. I would blast my favorite music and take a left onto the sandy road. Offroading was close to me. What my parent's wanted for me would be like a brand new paved road, not a crack or bump anywhere in the tar. But what I wanted, would be fast and unpredictable and I looked forward to any rock I'd hit because I knew I could handle it myself, not with the help of my parents.
I wouldn't consider myself a rebel towards my family. I still respected them and loved them, but sometimes it didn't feel like they felt the same way about me.
Penny was always the favorite, when it came to everything. She took the harder classes and excelled, she woke up early and did her makeup, she picked the boy of my parent's dreams: rich and charming, and she drove a polished white Ford Focus. I took the easier classes and barely got a B, I slept in and brushed my hair, I dated the boys who caused trouble and smoked cigarettes and I drove the orange, dirt drenched Jeep Wrangler.
I sighed and reminded myself that I was somewhere better than I was before. I approached my apartment complex and clicked my keys toward my Jeep. The headlights flashed in response, confirming that it was locked. I was 5 floors up, so I decided to take the elevator.
As the small screen on the wall flashed my floor number, the door slid open. I glanced down the hallway and took one step. A familiar body figure opened the door to room E7 and disappeared into the room. I felt like I recognized the person, but I didn't think anything of it.
I strolled past the door that was sealed and pulled my key out once I reached room E10, I clicked my key to the left and stepped inside. I took a big whiff of my apartment, it smelled of dried paint and this morning's breakfast. It smelled like home.
Scattered around my living room was about six canvases, two of them completed works of art and the other four lacking details. All over the floor were off-white bed sheets I'd brought from Broken Hill and they were splattered with magentas, ambers, sapphires and emeralds. Paint brushes laid in random places, on the kitchen table, on the couch, on the wood flooring. The place was a mess, but it was a beautiful one. This was what I dreamed of, this was what I wanted for the rest of my life. The oder of pigments, the stains of all kinds of color and canvases filled with the outcome of the mess.
I smiled softly as I walked through the clutter of my apartment and into my bedroom, which was actually pretty tidy. Usually, I would dress myself into grungy clothing so I could paint but tonight I just wanted to sleep.
So I put on my pajamas, crawled into my bed, turned to look out the window and took a deep breath.
This wasn't a mistake, coming here. I was going to be okay.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
yay! first chapter is complete!! I know this is the chapter that's the hardest to get through (especially for a writer) but it'll all be worth it. i'm soooooo excited for this story. i've been dreaming about it for two years now and it's finally coming alive.
thank you for reading!! remember to comment and vote! i'd love to hear some feedback.
♡ nicole robinson