Wasted: a short story

More than ten years ago, I published a short story collection called Evolvement. I’m going to republish the stories from the collection here. The book is available at all ebook retailers and the paperback version is available at Amazon

“Wasted”

Blaine and Jared stood in the kitchen, watching customers enter the mall restaurant. The steaks sizzled on the large grill behind them, smoke curling against the walls and ceiling, turning whatever it touched the brown color of dirty grease. Dull green and red colors smothered the restaurant’s walls and carpet. Bob the Manager had chosen green and red to make trash on the walls and floor harder to see. Blaine and Jared held long, black spatulas in their hands, like grilling warriors standing proud in a fiery battle.

“Look at that guy,” Jared said, pointing to a young man in a blue shirt and yellow tie who had just walked in. “What do you think?”

Blaine studied the young man. The man’s short hair looked as though it was trimmed often. His shoes shined. He wore a red cell phone on his brown belt. “He wants a burger, no tomatoes, with a side of onion rings instead of fries.”

Blaine and Jared turned towards the grill, almost in unison. They gripped the spatulas tight and flipped the cooking meat. They liked to catapult the meat in the air as if they were circus jugglers, or Tom Cruise in Cocktail, so that the meat flipped twice and landed on its opposite side.

A waitress, Suzy, handed the cooks the yellow-tied man’s order. Jared read it aloud. “One burger, no tomatoes, side of onion rings.” He laughed.

“Are you laughing at my boobs?” Suzy asked. The question was no longer strange. Suzy was obsessed with her breasts. They were large and quite amazing. But after a while, the amount of attention they demanded from onlookers lessened, until they became hardly noticeable. To Suzy, they were everything. She spent spare moments adjusting them in restaurant corners so that the massive breasts appeared as perky as possible.

“We weren’t laughing at your boobs, Suzy,” Jared said. “Blaine’s done it again.”

She leaned close and whispered, “You guessed again?”

“Yup.” Blaine smiled proudly.

“How did you know this time?” Jared asked.

“Just looks like a burger guy. He’s clean-cut, trimmed hair, well-dressed. Looks like he could use a little messiness once in a while. Let’s face it – burgers are messy.”

“The tomato?” Suzy asked.

“He is so careful about his appearance that he doesn’t want tomato slime dripping onto that yellow tie. My guess is that he’ll leave off the ketchup too. Only mustard for this man.”

Jared gestured as if he was going to speak, but Blaine cut him off, “The onion rings? I knew about the onion rings because he is eating alone. Onion rings are, by far, better than fries no matter where you go. But onions don’t tend to have the best effect on a man’s breath. This guy isn’t going to be kissing anyone; it doesn’t matter what his breath is like.”

“Brad!” The sharp voice came from behind Blaine and Jared, who turned to see Bob the Manager standing in the common manager pose: hands on hips, neck poked out like a rooster, clenched lips.

“It’s Blaine,” Blaine corrected.

“I don’t care if your name is Jesus Christ. Stop blabbin’ and get back to work. You and Josh here are always runnin’ your gums. I’m about sick of it.”

Blaine and Jared turned and stared at the grill until Bob the Manager left the kitchen. Luckily for them, Bob the Manager always had more important people to yell at, or someone’s money to take; he never stayed in the kitchen long.

Jared opened his eyes wide and bent down close to a New York strip. “I guess we’re just supposed to stand here and watch this meat cook without any human interaction.”

“Shhh,” Blaine said with his hands on his hips, mocking Bob the Manager’s rooster pose. “No talking – cluck. There’ll be no having fun – cluck cluck cluck – as long as I’m in charge – cluck cluck.”

Suzy brought the cooks another order: ribeye, medium well, with Cajun spice, smothered in white gravy.

“Who eats this stuff?” Jared said.

Blaine didn’t hear him. He was too busy scouring the dining area with his eyes, searching for a familiar, female face. He knew that order well. He saw her at the salad bar, covering her salad with creamy Italian dressing as if the salad were dying of thirst.

Jared saw Blaine staring. “You know her?”

“We had a date once.” Just once. They had bumped into each other as they passed on a staircase at the mall. She was short and slender, wearing a lavender sweater. After cordial apologies, they agreed to meet for dinner that night. Her name was Sherry. She ordered her Cajun ribeye and doused it in white gravy. They talked, and laughed, and ended up at his apartment, where they talked and laughed some more. Then they kissed, and undressed, leaving her lavender sweater hanging on the bed post. After having sex, they fell asleep embracing. When Blaine awoke, she was gone.

“One date? When was that?” Suzy asked. She was standing in the kitchen adjusting her breasts.

“Six years ago,” he said. Six years ago, Blaine had just finished college and was looking for a permanent job, working at the restaurant to get by. He went to the mall on his day off, something he rarely did, to buy a birthday card for his mother, whose birthday was two days prior. Sherry wasn’t his first woman. In college, Blaine actually thought he was in love with a girl he met in World Literature. When he told her he was in love, he found out that the feeling was not mutual. They broke up on his mother’s birthday. Which explains why, at first, Blaine was relieved when he awoke to find Sherry gone. No burdens, or questions, or saying I love you.

A week passed after his encounter with Sherry. He had thought about her from time to time, but it wasn’t until he bumped into another woman on the same mall staircase that he really missed her. This woman wasn’t wearing a sweater and really wasn’t very attractive, but Blaine recalled a movie in which a character said that there are signs everywhere and, if two people are supposed to be together, the signs will say so. Blaine thought bumping into this other woman was a sign, telling him to find Sherry.

For a year, Blaine devoted every spare moment to looking for Sherry. He visited the mall often and one time thought he saw her there, but it was only a skinny man in a lavender polo. He finally gave up looking. Before long, he met another woman and dated her for a year. They talked, and laughed, and kissed, but it just wasn’t right. The signs pointed to the woman he had shared just one night with a long time ago. Blaine began telling himself that he and Sherry were soul mates: there really were signs everywhere if he could just find them, and find her. He thought Sherry must be “the one.”

And there she was, standing at the salad bar, topping her creamy Italian dressing with a mound of bacon pieces. The signs led him to her, or her to him, or them to each other, and now was his big chance to be with “the one.” The past six years had culminated in this moment and what he would say to her. Blaine dropped his spatula on the red tiled floor with an echoing clang. He untied his grease-stained apron and let it fall beside the spatula, all the while unwilling to let her out of his sight for fear of losing her again.

Behind her at the salad bar, Blaine opened his mouth to speak. Before he could utter a word, she left and headed for her table, not noticing him there. Blaine looked at Jared, who laughed with Suzy. Apparently, they were watching his every move. “Some friends,” thought Blaine. Blaine followed Sherry and waited for her to sit down. She was with a group of friends – about six of them.

“Sherry,” he said. She looked at him and he noticed a red sweater draped over the back of her chair. For a brief second, he considered the possibility that he had the wrong person. That second disappeared quickly as Blaine waited for Sherry to say something. She just looked at him. “Do you know who I am?” he asked.

She continued to stare. It was perfect, he thought. She couldn’t even speak. He figured she must have been following signs for the past six years as well, looking for him. He figured that he was also her “one” that got away. Then she squinted her eyes and cocked her head to the side.

Bob the Manager tapped Blaine on the shoulder, “Bart, get back to work.”

The members of Sherry’s table chuckled. She stood and walked to Blaine slowly. It was exactly how he had pictured it. She would walk to him and they would hug, kiss, and get out of this place – wherever that would be. They would find a big house and have two dogs, then two children, then they would retire, die together holding hands. It was all happening.

 “Look, Bart.” She softly held his hand. “I’m sorry. Whatever it was, I’m sorry. It’s over.” She let go of his hand and it fell hard on his leg, like a smack. As Blaine walked back to the kitchen, Bob the Manager followed him with his rooster’s stare, as if Blaine were a piece of dried corn bouncing away on a farm’s dusty field.

“Tough break,” said Jared. His words sounded genuine, but he still smirked a little.

“Yeah,” said Suzy, “tough break.” 

Blaine picked up his spatula, washed it quickly, and stood silent in front of the grill. It sizzled and smoked just as it had been doing for six years.

“What about them?” Jared pointed at an elderly couple. The man wore a dressy blue, button-up shirt with a red bow tie. His hair was trimmed close to his head. The woman had on a white dress, which matched her hair. Glasses hung on a gold chain around her neck. Suzy took their order, stopping only once to fix a breast. “What are they eating?”

Blaine stood silent as smoke from the grill rose, hazing his vision: “I haven’t the slightest.”

More than ten years ago, I published a short story collection called Evolvement. I’m going to republish the stories from the collection here. The book is available at all ebook retailers and the paperback version is available at Amazon