Waiting For Her Turn

Grace Thatcher worked at a restaurant.

A romantic restaurant, to be specific.

People came in couples, spending hours at a candlelit table, and most of the time someone proclaimed their great love for the other, ending in tears and celebration.

Grace was awfully happy with her job. She was also awfully good at her job. But at her job, she was awfully lonely.

You see, she saw smiles and love and romance every day, but she herself had never experienced it. She waited for tables of starry-eyed couples, but she had never been quite starry-eyed herself. She looked upon lovestruck faces and engagement rings, but she had never done that herself. Especially since it was Valentine’s Day. Especially since she wanted to feel loved. More than anything, Grace longed to be a part of all of this.

She spent long hours fantasizing her true love, writing love poems, and scribbling pictures of her own wedding. She longed to be loved, to feel loved.

On this particular day, Grace was working her usual shift, just to ask for orders and to present them to the kitchen. On this love holiday, the restaurant was busier than usual. Earlier that day, she had come across:

1. A sad-looking boy and a clingy girl
2. A man who had stormed out of the restaurant after a whispered exchange
3. A couple who had ordered nothing but two glasses of water, then proceeded to spend three hours staring at each other awkwardly

These things were quite typical, and Grace wrapped them up in her melancholy of monotone voices and stored them in the back of her mind. She did note, however, that the tables were pristine, the napkins a shining white, and customers were filing in faster than ever. She repeated her signature line over and over again in her head, daydreaming about a fascinating conversation she’d have one day.

“Hello, my name is Grace; I’ll be your server today. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Of course! But all I need is you. Here, I even brought you flowers!”

“Wow! I didn’t expect that.”

However these thoughts barely skimmed the surface of her mind; she scoffed at herself for imagining something so impossible. In the meantime, Grace continued to serve tables. She did, however, take note of a conversation she’d had so far.

“Hello, my name is Grace; I’ll be your server today. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yes, please!” *glance at each other* “I’d like… what do you recommend?”

Grace would force a smile on her face as she would reply: “The strawberry lemonade; as it’s Valentine’s Day. The Pink Mocha would also be nice.”

Then she would continue to plaster a smile as they took another six minutes deciding.

But some conversations went rather quickly.

“Hello, my name is Grace; I’ll be your server today. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“No thank you! But we’d like an extra-large smoothie with two straws, please.”

“No problem!”

She would burn red with envy as she imagined if she could be in their place.

But that afternoon, a strange person had come in while she was setting up the usual romantic dinner setup- a wine glass engraved with hearts, white linen napkins, fancy utensils, and a plate lined with red and pink designs- and sat down right at the table she was cleaning. Startled, Grace had immediately picked up her polishing cloth and moved to another table. She looked nowhere but at her feet for the next ten minutes.

Twenty minutes later, the man still had not left. The restaurant was small, so the only waitress was Grace, and she did not want to bother the man. Flustered, Grace thought, He’s probably waiting for someone.

However, an hour later, the man still had not left. And no one had joined him.

At this point, Grace put away her embarrassment and decided to openly confront the man, still sitting at the table.

“Excuse me, sir…” her voice trailed off as he looked at her with a skeptical expression. “Would you like to order anything?”

The man hesitated, then laughed. “That took you long enough,” he said. “But no, I’m just enjoying my day.”

Grace wished there was a sign saying you had to order or you were out.

“Yes, sir,” she replied hesitantly, then added, “Would you like me to finish setting up the table?”

The man didn’t say anything.

Grace was about to walk away when he said, “Sure,” and then spontaneously did a peculiar dancing motion to cover her steps up. She continued to set up the table without giving the man any eye contact. Grace fiddled with the napkin in her hands, trying to create an intricate knot. She did not know why she was stalling. She also saw that most of the people that had arrived that morning were now gone, and there were now few people left in the restaurant.

Oh, how she hoped the man would leave.

Finishing, Grace nodded at the man and walked off. She went to the counter, and continued serving tables for the rest of the afternoon.

Just then, she remembered the man again. Keeping a close eye on him, who still had not left, Grace shimmied across the other tables, trying to not be noticed.

However, after a while, her curiosity was getting the better of her.

“Sir,” she inquired, walking slowly up to him, “If you are not ordering anything or meeting up with anyone, then why are you here?”

The man sighed deeply. 

Grace waited.

It was silent.

Finally, he said, “I think it’s important to show others that we should love ourselves.”

Grace froze in the middle of polishing the second wine glass.

“You don’t need someone to be happy. You can be happy with yourself. I wanted to do this to show some people who might need to know that,” he finished, then stood up.

“I think I’ve done just that.” He saluted her. “Have a great Valentine’s Day!”

Grace waved awkwardly.

***

Four years later, Grace and Henry, the man whom she met, sat together, happily, looking upon their wedding photo taken in the restaurant where she had worked for most of her life, laughing heartily as they recalled the place at which they met.