Jetbird

The piercing sound of the alarm jolts my lifeless body into a catapult, with little to no remorse. Catching my balance, after tripping over a pile of dirty laundry, stacks of chocolate wrappers, couple tubs of ice cream, and a bottle of 2019 Jetbird, a Merlot I drank the night I lost my long time career. It's been a downfall to say the least. I can't remember the last time I felt this low, maybe in middle school, when I was a tad bit big? "Jennyroll", they'd call me. I hated it.

I make it to the bathroom and look into the mirror. My eyes have dark circles, red and bloodshot. Like after a night of endless drinking. The wrinkles and lines begin to set in on what was once, a well cared for and time spent beauty regimented, smooth, and shimmery face. I don't have the time or patience to even consider those things now. I wash up and throw myself together as presentable as possible. I've been working non stop to keep afloat since the downsizing happened. It eliminated my career at a firm I worked my way up through. Now, I work as a waitress/bartender. Coincidentally, at the local spot, I used to stop at, for lunch. And, at night I deliver pizzas for the local chain in town. Both pay decent tips. But, when you go from a six figure salary to serving six crackers on a plate with some tuna; maybe a lettuce leaf (for decoration), ends don't always exactly meet.

I thought I had gotten lucky! I had found a used Honda that was within my budget and looked great! Jumped on that baby! Little did I know, I should have had a mechanic take a look. Lesson learned the hard way.. I ended up taking out a loan for more than I paid, just to keep the dang thing running! After selling my dream Mercedes, I tried to sell my high rise, high mortgage, condo; but once the figures came in, I couldn't afford to sell. I just bought the place, less than six months before I was fired.

On my two off days, Monday and Tuesday, I have been working on a local farm, right outside the city. The old farmer's wife passed, and his daughter hired me and a few others to help out with household chores. Oddly enough, I became close to Mr. Jones. We both recently lost someone. He lost his wife of 72 years. They were wed when he was just 15, and she was about four months shy of him. "It was a wonderful ride," he often cheered. When he was talking about her, he just lit up! My boyfriend of 14 years walked out after I was fired from the firm. So that's where I'm at. Tired, struggling, but surviving.

I put on my black uniform pants and a cute peach top. Pull my hair into a tight bun and head for the door. Today is Sunday, so I head towards the restaurant preparing for lawyers, upper class families, and the occasional celebrity guest. Here goes nothing.

As I'm walking towards the door of the restaurant, I remember I forgot my apron in the car. "Crap", I say out loud, as I turn around to go back for it. I bump into this tall, dark hair fellow. He's handsome, sporting green eyes, and a radiant smile. Goosebumps shimmer up and down my arms. I notice his arms, strong and very comforting yet firm. I back away, muttering stammered apologies, aching for the chance to run and hide. He chuckles as he gently places me on my feet, balanced, secure. I regain my head, somewhat, and halfway grin with this dorky look on my face. He is laughing now. A wholesome, deep, rich laugh. Like he has won the lottery or something. He excuses himself, and apologizes. I stay glued to the pavement for what seemed like eternity as he disappears into the restaurant.

Tricia leans out the back door, leading to the kitchen. "Come on Jenny! We need you girl, we are packed and you're the best we got. Get that little behind in here." "Yes ma'am, just getting my apron", I replied half way waving it in the air, as if surrendering. Don't need this boss lady mad. She's one red-headed whip when things aren't smooth butter.

"Take the balcony and halfway bar dining, we're a little short handed again today." "Whoa, Tricia, that's like 18 tables! I can't handle that many on a Sunday brunch and lunch." "Yes you can. You are one of a kind, honey. Now wash up, and get going. There are already 5 tables seated."

Without a reply, I wash and head out to the middle bar. It's an indoor/outdoor seating area. For the ones who want fresh air, but not the direct sun hit. The walls are glass and open to the outside allowing the breeze to blow through. I take the four table's drink orders and fill them as quickly as possible. Then, go outside to the patio bar. I'm thankful the sun is shining, and the breeze is mild, not a force field challenging my tray and balance.

Upon approaching the party table, to the side of the building, I realize there are about 8 people already. I give a quick intro and start at the head of the table. I hear the door to the bathroom close and someone sits in the seat opposite the Whiskey Man's end. I continue going down the chairs, taking drink and appetizer orders, finally making it to the end. I freeze when I hear that deep voice. I shake it off as best I can, look up (my face probably as red as a tomato), and practically spit out the words, "excuse me". I just hope playing as if I didn't hear, instead of becoming temporarily paralyzed works. He chuckles, smiles ridiculously huge, and repeats the order. I jot it down and rush to the back, without a word. The goosebumps and trembling are having an all-time throw down over who's going to win, while I try to type it all into the system and make 9 waters, coffee, tea, and juice. The head of the table already ordered a scotch on his way through the halfway bar, which the bar-back brought to him, as I was taking their order. It starts getting busy and just about every table is filled. I don't really get to stop by and see the mystery man table that often, but realize they have been here for almost 3 hours. While I'm changing out some tables three, up to five time, here they still sit. Kind of nice, as every once in a while they will order more coffee, tea, mimosa's, scotch, dessert. Keeps the tab running, and they are basically cared for, at this point. It's almost one. Another hour, and I'll get a small break.

I'm starving and my feet are aching, already. I stop by the table to check on everyone. Scotch man, requests the bill for the table, and proceeds to tell his story. There are 17 people at this table, by the end. Their bill reaches over $2,500, without a doubt. Everyone at the table ordered an entree, main course, multiple drinks, lots of top shelf alcohol, and dessert (couple people ordered multiple of these too.. but, I'm not saying I haven't eaten 2 or 3 slices of the dessert myself.) He hands me the thick, black card of status. The tab is paid, I lay the receipt book beside him, and get busy filling orders.

I stayed so busy the rest of the shift, I didn't have time to type in any of my closeouts until the end of shift. As I was typing in the statements, I came across the mystery man's receipt. I typed in the tip amount of $2000. What?! I back up and look again. It already includes a 20% gratuity added to the total, with the party deck. It clearly says $5000. $2,500 for the meal, $500 for the 20% gratuity fee, and $2,000 for an additional tip. Making the total $5,000! On the back, in neat penmanship, "Haven't seen him smile or laugh like that in over three years. Thank You," signed, T. Branson.

That table almost paid my mortgage this month. I felt like crying! Instead, I got in my car, and drove to the pizza shop. I was a few minutes late, due to staying over at the restaurant, and then the tip craze. I stopped by the bank and deposited the cash too. I didn't feel like taking the chance. So, by the time I got there, we had started picking up for the evening. It's finally the end of the night. As always on a Sunday night, an order came in at the last minute. My boss tells me to run it, she'd clock me out when I got home. As I get to the address, I realize it's the next farm over from where Mr. Jones' homestead was. I drive through the open gate and down the beautifully crafted driveway. I came upon a massive wooden cabin, breathtaking view of the lake down below, fields stretched out wide as they are long. Sheep, goats, cows, and lines of fruit trees, vegetables, and other flowers grew in their own sequence, yet seemingly came together to make the most inspiring picture.

I park the car and walk towards the house. It has windows from floor to ceiling, captivated as I was immersed in the light. A beautiful handcrafted door towers over the entrance breezeway. I find the doorbell and give it a deep push. You can hear the melodious tune floating through the air, as if welcoming home those from afar. After a minute or two, I can hear footsteps approaching. As the door opens, I turn to face my client. It's him, in all of his glory. Just showered, wet hair freely bouncing, with just a pair of gym shorts. Mesmerized, I barely choke out, "um, B. Branson?" "He laughs with the same laugh I heard earlier that day, when I ran into him. It's genuine, deep, from the soul. "Sorry about it being so late. I needed a midnight snack, and pizza sounded like it would hit the spot!" "No, no problem at all," I whisper. He turns back inward and I turn to walk back to the car. He stops me. "I know this is probably out of context and a little forward, but would you join me for a slice of pizza?" I'm back to the paralyzed version I had displayed earlier in the evening. I know what my mind is telling me, but my gut is saying stay. So, after a second, of staring into space, he holds out his hand. "I'm Brady. I'm sorry, I don't usually do this. I lost my wife three years ago. It's been a minute since I've been down this road. But, you. You caught my eye, reminded me what it felt like to smile, to laugh a real laugh. So, please come in and join me for a slice of pizza. I won't keep you too late, but the conversation would be nice."

He reaches for the wine cabinet and withdraws the same bottle laying on my floor at home. A 2019 Merlot, Jetbird. "Will you join me in a glass of Merlot?" This was my sign, the end of one journey. He holds up his glass, "shall we toast? To new beginnings. Filled with good health, happiness, and laughter to fill the soul." Maybe it was the Merlot, but I knew. And, I think he did too.