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The New Girl

Copyrighted 2011 Leo Hines

    Barbie Louise was having a bad hair day. She darted about the cafeteria, taking orders at the various booths. Seemingly, she could not do anything with her frazzled strawberry blond hair, which kept coming undone.
    Then, the tall, slender blonde woman checked with customers sitting at the counter, before she clipped their orders to the revolving disk just inside the window, where Hank, the short-order cook, was busy preparing the food. The problem was the new waitress was going to be two hours late for her very first day, not a good sign.
    In the mean while, Dolly, the dish-washer, was doing a miserable job as a substitute waitress. The short, dark haired young woman was getting orders wrong and the sinks in back were stacked high with dirty dishes and pots.
    To make matters worst, Hank was also in a foul mood, since his favorite baseball team had lost a crucial game last night. All of his cronies had been calling to gloat and collect on his fool hearted wagers. He was not a gracious loser, and he was an even less reliable cook. Already, he had misplaced two customers’ orders. Barbie Louise should have been upset with him, but she felt sorry for the lanky Cuban.
    By seven, the small cafeteria was packed with customers, shouting to be heard over the two televisions. There was not a vacant seat in the restaurant. Barbie continued darting about, hoping to prevent another fiasco.
    Presently, she was setting down an order of pancakes, sausage and coffee to Fred Jacobs, a retired accountant. “How are you doing this morning, Barbie Lou,” asked the man, as he folded his newspaper.
    “Good morning, Fred.” She sighed. “We are kind of short handed, but I am not complaining. The new girl is going to be late. Well, enjoy your breakfast.”
    “Sure thing,” he said and took a gulp of his coffee. The waitress hurried over to a burly truck driver. “Hey, girlie, what does a man have to do—to get service in this joint?”
    “Sorry about the wait, Kiddo.” She smiled. “What can I get for you, besides coffee?”
    After taking his order, she sprinted back with a pot of coffee and a mug. Reluctantly, the big man smiled. “Thanks, ma’am. I apologize for being a little pushy, but I’ve been driving all night.”
    “Look, I am not upset with you,” she smiled. “We all get a little feisty sometime. Your order should be ready soon.”
    Next, she took an order for a family of five, and she hurried back into the kitchen, which was hot and teeming with the aroma of breakfast foods. Hank, a lanky Cuban man, wearing a dirty apron, was flitting about from the grill to the stove, busy preparing food. She had to shout to be heard over the noise.
    “Hey, Hank, any sign of the new girl?”
    “Not a word, Barbie Lou,” he shrugged. “She better get here soon! Otherwise, she will be history, if she isn’t here for the lunch crowd. Chef Retha has been calling the temp service all morning.”
    “I can image. Chef Retha is not a happy Camper right now,” smirked Barbie.
    “Your orders will be ready soon.” He smiled as he flipped pancakes.
    “Barbie Louise! Come in here,” bellowed a forceful female voice from beyond the kitchen. Hank glanced at Barbie as she headed to Chef Retha’s office. “She doesn’t sound very good; You better hurry, Barbie.”
    “Well, wish me luck,” smiled Barbie.
    Chef Retha was a full-figured, African American woman, late 40s, with her hair in short braids and wearing a crisp white jacket. She was sitting at a large cluttered desk. The woman was watching the Food Channel and sipping coffee, with a heavy laden of sugar and creamer.
    She motioned for Barbie to sit. “Hopefully, you will survive ‘til the new girl gets here. The Temp agency spoke so highly of her.” Chef Retha shook her braids. “It’s busy out there. If you need me, just give a holler. Okay?”
    “Chef, I am not complaining, at least, not just yet,” smirked the tall, blond woman. “I have had rougher days. Well, I better get back out there. We should be fine for the time being.”
    The black woman shook her head and smiled, getting up and walking with her down the corridor. “Barbie, I really appreciate your hard work,” said the chef. “I’ll make it up to you, with a nice bonus in your pay check. Just let this be our little secret. Okay?”
    “You’ve got a deal, Chef.”
    Chef Retha headed back to her domain, and Barbie ambled through the kitchen. Hank had several customers’ orders waiting for her. She gathered two trays of food and started to leave. However, the short-order cook stopped her. “Well, how did it go with the Dragon Lady,” asked Hank, as he flipped several golden pan cakes. Barbie smiled. “Well, I survived---and back to my public.”
    “Guess who I saw come in for breakfast,” the cook persisted. “You’ll never guess----an old friend of yours. Mrs. Josephine Flack.”
    Now the waitress was surprised. “This isn’t exactly her neighborhood. I wonder what she is doing in here?”
    “Maybe she came to remind you about coming to church,” he chucked. “You never made it to Sunday service at her church, as I recall.”
    “She is really a nice old lady, but I do not feel up to seeing her today.” She mumbled. “I feel so frustrated today, trying to do the work of two people.”
    “Just tell Mrs. Flack the truth.” He cautioned. “You aren’t interested in religion. You aren’t even a practicing Jew.”
    “That is just it, Hank,” she whined. “Mrs. Flack does understand me. I really need purpose in my life, but I am not ready for comitement. I better get out there.”
    Now customers were gradually heading off to work or their next sightseeing attraction. Barbie moseyed about with a pot of coffee, topping off the mugs of lingering customers. Unexpectedly, she glimpsed a tall, elderly black woman waving to her across the diner. “Over here, Honey,” she shouted.
    Reluctantly, Barbie walked over to the woman. “Good morning, Mrs. Flack, can I get you something?”
    “Not really. I have already had my breakfast,” said the older woman. “But I will accept another cup of coffee.”
    “I am so surprised to see you, Mrs. Flack. Usually, I meet you at the supermarket on my day off.”
    “I am attending a meeting on the second floor of this building.” The elderly black woman replied. “And I remembered that you worked here, so I decided to drop by. You’re probably busy so I won’t keep you.”
    Barbie Louise felt guilty, since the old woman did not confront her about church going. She poured her coffee and started to leave. “Mrs. Flack, Look about church, I still plan to come. I’ve just been so busy.”
    “Listen, honey, you don’t have to feel guilty,” she smiled. “You are always welcome, when you feel ready to come.”
    “Well, I’ve got to run,” mumbled Barbie Louise, as she hurried away.
    By eleven A.M., the new girl had arrived and she was doing an excellent job, making customers feel good, as she took their orders. Her name was Cillia Brooker. By this time, there were fewer customers, mostly tourists stopping for a rest stop from the hot tropical weather.
    Barbie Louise had expected to be upset with her new co-worker. Instead, she had felt sympathy for the slender, dark-haired younger woman. Maybe it was her response to Cillia’s thick, dark, horn-rimmed glasses and her big, nose and no make-up. She looked so plain and vulnerable.
    Cillia adjusted her glasses, took a deep breath and went to greet an elderly man, who had crept into a vacant booth. En route, she had gathered a mug, flatware and a pot of coffee. “Good morning, Mister. Would you care for coffee, while I take your order,” She asked, smiling awkwardly. The old codger simply nodded, as she filled his coffee cup. “You’re new. I haven’t seen you before,” he mumbled. “Where are you from, Missy?”
    “Oh, that’s a long story. I am from a lot of places,” she quipped. “What can I get for you?”
    “You can call me ‘Felix’ and cut out the ‘Mister business.’” He snapped. “I’ll have the usual, but I forgot —you’re new. Anyway, my usual is two eggs, over-easy, sausage and a stack of flapjacks. And what is your name, Missy?”
    “Oh, you can just call me ‘Cillia.’ I’ll have your order back soon.”
    “I appreciate that, Cillia.” He sighed as he leaned back in the plush leather booth. He took out his crumpled newspaper, as she hurried away. When she returned, he was preoccupied with the sports page. However, she did not have his meal. “What did you forget, Cillia?”
    “How did you want your eggs?”
    He motioned for her to come closer. “Hey, I don’t bite. I realize this is your first day, so I will try to be patient. I like my eggs over easy,” he beamed. “I understand and I know you’re doing your best. So pour me another cup of coffee, and let me see a smile,” the man said.
    He gave her a big hug and she smiled. “I promise to remember your order this time. You want your eggs cooked over easy. Thanks for not yelling at me.”
    “Look, I’ve got a reputation in this café,” cautioned the old man. “Let this be our little secret. I would hate for it to get around, that I am an ole softie. Okay?”
    “Okay,” Cillia agreed as she hurried away.
    Later, Cillia joined Barbie and Dolly for a much needed lunch-break at 2 PM. The cafeteria was empty. All three women sat at the counter, eating grilled cheese sandwiches and diet cokes.
    “Is it always this busy at lunch time,” Cillia asked, as she dangled her legs around her stool.
    “Oh, sometimes it’s even busier.” Barbie Louise said. “But today was about average. You’re a great little worker. And the customers seem to like you.”
    “I second that motion,” Dollie intervened. “You performed a miracle this morning. You got ole sour-puss Felix to smile. I’ve never seen that before.”
    “Oh, he is not so bad,” Cillia shrugged.
    “How long have you been in South Bay,” asked Dolly.
    “About six months, I came down with my boyfriend, Toby...He had quit his job and I had flunked out of FAMU, so we came here for vacation, since he had a buddy living here...we had a great time until me and Toby broke up...he and his buddy were doing something against the law...I moved to a motel and applied for this job...I feel bad being late on my first day.”
    “We’re just glad you finally arrived.”
    “I certainly need this job...I am stranded here,” said Cillia. I can’t go back to the university and I can’t go home to Live Oak. My parents have their problems, and I hate to bother my Grandmother Tina...I could always depend on her moral support and spending money...besides I like it here on South Bay.”
    “Welcome to the club, Cillia, most of us came here as tourists,” said Barbie Louise, “and decided to stay. The only draw-back is the outrageous cost of living and wall-to-wall-tourists.”
    “The tourists don’t faze me, but the rent is too expensive,” she said, glancing at her cell-phone. “Oops, Ladies, please excuse me. I need to call somebody. I’ll be back in the locker area.”
    “Take your time. You have another thirty minutes before we start the evening meal.”
    Meanwhile upstairs, Mrs. Josephine Flack was struggling to stay focused on her meeting upstairs. All the talk of retirement financial plans truly had gotten boring. Mrs. Flack was putting away her knitting bag, when the old black woman’s cell-phone sprung to life, playing Amazing Grace. Very relieved at this diversion, she quietly made her exit from the big meeting room.
    “Hello, Aeisha, I am so glad you called,” she said to her grand-daughter on the phone. “So tell me. What is your problem, huh?”
    “Grandma, where did you put the TO-Do list?” She asked. “I couldn’t find it anywhere. I apologize for disturbing your meeting.”
    “Honey, you just rescued me from the most boring afternoon,” Mrs. Flack assured her. “Oh, the list is on my bedside table. I was in such a hurry, that I didn’t put it on the fridge. Don’t worry about it”
    “What about the raffle for the trip?”
    “It’s at the end of the meeting,” the old woman sighed. “Well, I better get back. I should be home before you get out of school.”
    “By the way, did you hear about the counterfeit money being found near you?”
    “No, honey, I’ve been too busy, hearing about the joys of retirement, but I’ll see what I can discover. Well, bye for now.”
    Mrs. Flack closed her cellular phone and started back up the hall. At the end of the corridor, she glimpsed a slender dark-haired woman talking with a young, barrel–chest man. The closer she got, she could hear their conversation, actually their argument.
    “I didn’t agree to be a part of this,” shouted the woman. “This is the reason I left...You and your buddy can’t make me do this!”
    “This was understood when he let us move-in... deal is a deal,” the man sneered. “So just go along, or you’ll be sorry.”
    However, Mrs. Flack came closer, coughing to acknowledge her presence. The odd couple looked up and started whispering. The young woman retreated into the ladies room and the man hurried away. Mrs. Flack also went into the ladies room. The younger woman was still crying. “I am sorry, you had to hear us.” She said to Mrs. Flack. “But it just isn’t fair---what he wants me to do. Still, I have no alternative. My name is Cillia; what is yours?”
    “Honey, let me help you. My name is Mrs. Josephine Flack.” The older woman said. “Between the two of us, we should be able to find a solution. Do you trust me?”
    The young woman looked intently at Mrs. Flack, suddenly seeing compassion and hope. “Yes, I trust you, Ma’am, but that man has a pistol and a mean temper. How can you help me if he tries to hurt me?”
    “We have the police,” Mrs. Flack replied.
    “Right now, I am just as guilty as he is. He tricked me into delivering counterfeit money to several neighborhood stores. If I go to the police and confess, it would be my word against his. I could go to jail along with him.”
    Mrs. Flack gave the matter consideration. “Look, Cillia, I will go with you to tell your story. They can’t hesitate to both of us. And I have some friends at police headquarters. Still, that’s only part of the problem, Honey. You need a relation with God. Otherwise, you are going to continue to make bad choices.”
    “But how can going to church help me, Mrs. Flack?”
    “Look, I am talking about a personal relationship with the creator of the universe,” Mrs. Flack reassured her. “Tell me, honey, would you go to heaven or hell, if you died right now?”
    “Well, I don’t consider myself a really bad person, but I would probably go to hell,” she conceded.
    “What if you could have a second chance, right now?”
    “Right now, I don’t think that is possible,” the younger woman cried. “I am so guilty and frightened.”
    “That depends on you,” said Mrs. Flack. “It is possible if you honestly want to be right with the Lord. I will help you to study the Bible, to be certain of your Eternal destiny. That is more important than anything else.”
    “Okay, but first, how do you help me to get out of this dilemma with this man and this counterfeit money?”
    Mrs. Flack patted her on the shoulder and smiled. “Whenever you are ready, I will go with you to the police station. I will be your character witness. But now, Cillia, you better get back downstairs to the café and your customers. Barbie is probably wondering about you.”
    “Yes, you are right.” She agreed. “You are truly an amazing woman. You aren’t afraid of anything...you remind me of my Grandmother Tina.”
    “Your grandmother must be a fine woman..but why should I be afraid of anybody? I know the King of Kings,” she beamed. “When I feel discouraged, I remember my favorite scripture: Matthew 10:28, ‘Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but not kill the soul. Rather be afraid of the one who can destroy both the soul and body as well.’”
    “I better get back to my waitress duties,” Cillia said. She embraced the old black woman for several seconds. So much was crystal clear to her. All her fears were less threatening. They made an appointment to meet later. Then, she hurried downstairs.
    The cafeteria was buzzing with tourists, taking a rest stop, before heading to their hotel or their next tropical attraction. South Bay island was a dazzling place for sight seeing and soul journeying, Cillia decided. She was suddenly confident as she darted about the diner, taking orders.
    She apologized to Barbie Louise for being late, but the other waitress smiled. “We are just happy to have you. Is everything okay?”
    “Fine as apple pie...I met the sweetest old lady upstairs...Mrs. Flack, who is going to help me with a problem.”
    “Did she invite you to church, huh?”
    “Yes...she did but how did you guess, Barbie Louise?”
    “Because she has also invited me, but I’ve been kinda busy...are you going?”
    “Yes, I am going if she helps me with-- my problem...why come to church with us?
    I didn’t promise to join her church, but I going as a favor...If I like the service, maybe I’ll go again...will you come too?”
    “Let think about it, Cillia...Is this your idea or Mrs. Flack?”
    “No, it was my idea. I think it would be okay...just this once.”
    “Okay...just this once...now back to work, Cillia!”
    Barbie darted off to seat some new arrivals, and Cillia grabbed menus and a fresh pot of coffee, heading in the opposite direction. She was starting to feel that she belonged here, serving customers and making them feel at home. She no longer felt the new trainee. She recognizing familiar faces of returning customers from that morning. Among the crowd, she glimpsed her new friend and customer, Mister Felix, who waved to her and she acknowledged him.

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