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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book... “6 Feet Under” Down in the Dirt (v136) (the May 2016 Issue) You can also order this 6"x9" issue as a paperback book:

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Burning What’s Left Of The Castle

Joseph Randazzo

    “Tom Brady’s a cheat and still a hero. You believe that about this country,” the fry cook Juglio said to the left of Antoinette speaking over her. “You know what’s crazier Juglio? If Brady didn’t get off, they were only gonna give him 4 games. 4 games? You believe that? Kick him out. Take the food out his pretty mouth,” Marco said to the right of Antoinette, also speaking over her.
    Each guy started throwing their hands in the air wasting more time, which, in-turn, ensured Antoinette was going to get yelled at by some bourgeois woman, her emasculated husband and sociopath child that thinks it’s okay to throw boards of wood at the geese. It was another miserable day at the lavish Vanderlay restaurant on the tip of Long Island in Montauk, New York.
    Back in her small town of Wasquehal, France Antoinette was a hopeful woman. She heard stories of American writers leaving home for France for a chance to hopefully feel literacy course through their veins. She thought she’d find similar success others did by doing their opposite. Antoinette was not offered the same kindness by America that her people gave to the Hemingways though. To the people she worked with, she had no dreams. She was nothing more than a piece of ass that talks funny and is only okay at setting tables. This broke Antoinette.
    In France she always had a smile on her face. She was published weekly in her town’s little paper and the people at church said she was a better writer than Burroughs. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t world renowned or decorated with accolades. To them, Antoinette’s spirit to become an author and leave the farm life made her bigger than Hemingway, Burroughs, Bukowski or Jim Morrison - the rock star who may or may not have a few grandchildren walking around the village.
    In America Antoinette was angry and hope died in the land of dreams. She worked 60 hours a week and was often too tired to write. She looked at these fry cooks arguing about sports in disgust. They had fire for this man they’d never meet - someone they’d probably worship if he walked through the doors of this restaurant - but when it came to their own lives they allowed themselves to be on a path that meant certain death in the hot kitchen of Vanderlay. She hated them and hoped they’d drown in their child support bills, or the ocean down the road. More than she hated them, she hated having these thoughts. They inspired her to feel this.
    Today was intended to be a better day for Antoinette though. The head manager, a woman who ran the restaraunt for only three months and made four times the pay of most of the patrons filling their stretched out jaws with the overpriced food, was going to assess whether Antoinette was getting a promotion. This meant less hours but more pay. To Antoinette, this wasn’t the best-case scenario but it was an improvement. Now she could write more. Maybe if she is lucky she can buy a better-woven sundress for the summer, she thought.
    Antoinette was finally able to deliver the food when the Brady talk died down and she was of course yelled at by the woman. “This Octopus is overcooked miss,” the woman said. “Miss, do you hear me. Excuse me miss.”
    Antoinette only heard half her complaint. The rest of it was spent wondering whether a drop kick would send her flying off her seat. She wondered if the husband would think of Antoinette as a hero for this or was he too deep into his Institutionalized Syndrome to notice the good deed? Would he hang himself like Brooks when he realized she would no longer yell at him? Antoinette left when the woman said she’d eat the food anyway. It was a success in the sense that she wasn’t forced to go back and forth from the kitchen to the obnoxious beast.
    Waiting by the kitchen window for Antoinette was the manager’s assistant. “Lois wants to know if you’re available.” Antoinette thought that was a silly being the manager should know at all times whether her underlings are able to answer her beckon call but she answered as if it wasn’t a dumb question. She caught herself being negative in her head and sighed again. The country was weighing down on her.
#
    Antoinette waited in front of the manager’s desk while her boss, Lois, read a magazine about local Long Island restaurants. She had a shit-eating grin when she made her way to one page and finally put it down.
    “What was eet you were looking at Mees Lois,” Antoinette asked politely.
    “Look at this page right here,” Lois said. She showed Antoinette what she was looking at. “We are 48 on the list of 100 home caught seafood restaurants on Long Island.”
    Lois pushed the magazine to the side, keeping it open in front of Antoinette, and then reached down into a drawer on her desk. She pulled out a folder. It had Antoinette’s name on it. She looked through it and didn’t speak for a bit.
    You know I have had fun working here,” Antoinette said. “Theese place ees a blessing. They do not have places like thees where I am from. So luxurious.”
    “So I’ve heard,” the manager said coldly as she looked through Antoinette’s file. Antoinette was surprised there was so much written about her. Other than the few moments where the manager yells, “Not to fuck up the night,” she didn’t get the impression the manager knew who she was. Then last week, when she said she is a candidate for a managerial position, an announcement Lois said with a surprisingly rare smile, she was even more surprised. Now there are no smiles - just cold answers and questions.
    “Where are you from again,” the manager asked.
    “Wasquehal, France,” Antoinette said brightly.
    “Oh right,” Lois said. “Thought you were from Spain.”
    Lois closed the folder up, stared Antoinette in the eye and clenched her hands together on it.
    “This job here. This promotion. It’s similar to one I had as a girl. In three months they moved me from cashier to manager and I ran that place. You gonna run this place like that? Give me a break,” Lois asked.
    “Oh yes, yes, yes of course,” Antoinette said. Lois replied with a “good.”
    “You gonna make sure we run up this list from 48 to top 10,” Lois asked next.
    “Oh yes, yes, yes of course. Thank you so much Mees Lois,” Antoinette said. There were tears in here eyes. Finally, she was going to be able to write more. She thought of all the free time. There were going to be days off. She was going to be able to sleep in a little more. She’d be able to spend some time at the beach.
    “Hold on,” Lois said. “I didn’t say you had the job. I asked if you were ready. You say yes. I say no.”
    Antoinette didn’t flinch. She sat in her seat quietly. Now her hands were clenched together politely in her palms. Across from her Lois started picking up the magazine. She opened it up and pointed to the number 48.
    “It takes a certain type of woman to run a place like this. It’s the type of woman who values success over the menial pursuits of having a family. The type of woman who works an extra half hour so she can pay for an abortion, take a day off to tan, then get back into work and be up everybody’s ass.”
    Antoinette still sat quietly. She wasn’t sure what to say to any of this.
    “You wouldn’t do that. Some guy who just started making 100k a year is gonna knock you up and we’ll have to foot the benefits. Not happening. At least not now,” Lois said.
    “Not now why? Why not now,” Antoinette said.
    “I’m giving you a six month trial to smarten you up miss. No raise. No position just yet. Maybe in six months but not now,” Lois said.
    She stopped talking and waited for a response. In Antoinette’s head she shifted the thought of the dropkick from Octopus Lady to her manager. She thought of all the short stories she planned on writing and there her dreams went. It was as if the Nazis mistook her aspirations for books.
    Antoinette hated Lois but simply said, “Oh yeah, okay.”
    The manager spoke once more before sending her out. “Please come back in six months Antoinette. Maybe by then this position will be more suited for you.”
    Antoinette asked for an earlier break and her wish was granted. It was a Vanderlay mercy killing. She didn’t feel defeated as much as she felt broken. Hemingway had been in the war but the war didn’t allow him to rot under the scent of overcooked octopus.
    It was a chilly night for May so Antoinette grabbed her coat and walked outside. She looked at the beach and walked toward it. She lived in Montauk but didn’t spend enough time on it.
#
    The sunshine faded into the distance to make room for the moon. Antoinette sat on the beach without a towel and watched as phone call after phone call buzzed at an unnerving pace. Hell will fight hard for you to burn inside it without any gift or reward. She was afraid to answer for just this reason. What if one of those calls made sense and she gave it another six months?
    Back at the restaurant groups of workers, fry cooks, chefs, maitre de’s, servers and the bakers, all came together to spit on Antoinette’s escape. All of them sat there tired, disheveled, underpaid and secretly wishing they could afford to do the same. For whatever reason each man and woman had their reason for staying whether it was because they needed the money or they were too weak to fight off the hells of screaming children throwing temper tantrums at their birthday cake.
    On some level Antoinette knew what was going on at the restaurant so she decided against making her return there. Instead she packed a bag from her apartment and made her way to the Long Island Rail Road. The phone continued to buzz and she started laughing. Vanderlay weighed on her and she wondered why she didn’t do this sooner. Now the weight was gone.
    The thought of drop kicks were also gone. She thought of Lois and saw this cartoonish sad woman who had one too many run-ins with wealthy businessmen throughout her life.
    The train stopped at the Babylon line and she decided to go further. From there Antoinette took the train to New York City and hoped for the best.

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