My Waitress.
A café in nowhere Nevada.
I’d only seen her once before, maybe I hadnt even seen her. On the road I think, in some café in the middle of nowhere Nevada, on my way to California with my brother. For a meeting. But ever since then, she was all I could think about. Every minute of the day.
She had black hair, beautiful black hair, no really long, but not obscenely short, just right. Black and messy, as if she had just woken up and gotton out of bed. Her skin was pale, really pale. It contrasted completely with her hair. She looked so beautiful. Her lips were red, like blood. Lipstick I guessed, no ones lips could be that shade naturally.
Her arm had been covered in a tattoo sleeve. I shuddered when I thought about the needles. My biggest fear. Needles. I didn’t know where it had come from, an injection as a child probably. But I couldn’t be sure.
She had served me coffee, with lots of sugar. It wasn’t the best I had ever tasted. Nor was it the worst. I remembered her hand has touched mine when she handed it to me. And I felt as if sparks had flew. Fireworks had exploded in my hand, and I felt as if I had opened my mouth to say something I would have spewed verbal vomit everywhere. She had smiled. A big beautiful smile that had made my stomach jump.
He had noticed it all, said I should talk to her. But I couldn’t. I was too afraid, a girl as pretty as her would never have liked someone as plain as me. A twenty five year old artist who still lived at home with his parents. Compared to me she was like a queen.
Lindsey.
Her name fitted her completely. It was as if she were made for the name. Or the name for her. Either way, her parents chose perfectly. From her hair and face, to her arms, legs and voice. They just screamed Lindsey! Lindsey, Lindsey, Lindsey, Lindsey!
Too bad I would probably never see her again.
I had wanted to go back there. The next day, but he wouldn’t let me. We were on a tight schedule. We had to be in California the next day, there was no time to go back and look for her. I’d protested all the way there, but no matter what he did, he wouldn’t turn back for me…..
“Can I get you something?” comes a voice interrupting me from my thoughts.
“Oh uhm, yeah. A coffee please.” I mutter in response, angry that someone had roused me from my thoughts of her. “With lots of sugar please.”
“Sure thing hon.” comes the same voice. I hear the squeak of rubber soled shoes on the tiles as the waitress walks away. To get me my coffee.
I wait several minutes, wondering where the hell Mikey is, he should have been back from the bathroom by now. My coffee comes.
“Here you go.” says the voice, different from the first.
I look up from the table, where I had been busy sketching something. A cartoon. Of her. What I see makes my stomach jump.
“Oh, er, uhm, thankyou.” I manage to choke out after a minute of acting like a fish, just opening and closing my mouth.
“No problem.” says the waitress, my waitress. Lindsey.
She had black hair, beautiful black hair, no really long, but not obscenely short, just right. Black and messy, as if she had just woken up and gotton out of bed. Her skin was pale, really pale. It contrasted completely with her hair. She looked so beautiful. Her lips were red, like blood. Lipstick I guessed, no ones lips could be that shade naturally.
Her arm had been covered in a tattoo sleeve. I shuddered when I thought about the needles. My biggest fear. Needles. I didn’t know where it had come from, an injection as a child probably. But I couldn’t be sure.
She had served me coffee, with lots of sugar. It wasn’t the best I had ever tasted. Nor was it the worst. I remembered her hand has touched mine when she handed it to me. And I felt as if sparks had flew. Fireworks had exploded in my hand, and I felt as if I had opened my mouth to say something I would have spewed verbal vomit everywhere. She had smiled. A big beautiful smile that had made my stomach jump.
He had noticed it all, said I should talk to her. But I couldn’t. I was too afraid, a girl as pretty as her would never have liked someone as plain as me. A twenty five year old artist who still lived at home with his parents. Compared to me she was like a queen.
Lindsey.
Her name fitted her completely. It was as if she were made for the name. Or the name for her. Either way, her parents chose perfectly. From her hair and face, to her arms, legs and voice. They just screamed Lindsey! Lindsey, Lindsey, Lindsey, Lindsey!
Too bad I would probably never see her again.
I had wanted to go back there. The next day, but he wouldn’t let me. We were on a tight schedule. We had to be in California the next day, there was no time to go back and look for her. I’d protested all the way there, but no matter what he did, he wouldn’t turn back for me…..
“Can I get you something?” comes a voice interrupting me from my thoughts.
“Oh uhm, yeah. A coffee please.” I mutter in response, angry that someone had roused me from my thoughts of her. “With lots of sugar please.”
“Sure thing hon.” comes the same voice. I hear the squeak of rubber soled shoes on the tiles as the waitress walks away. To get me my coffee.
I wait several minutes, wondering where the hell Mikey is, he should have been back from the bathroom by now. My coffee comes.
“Here you go.” says the voice, different from the first.
I look up from the table, where I had been busy sketching something. A cartoon. Of her. What I see makes my stomach jump.
“Oh, er, uhm, thankyou.” I manage to choke out after a minute of acting like a fish, just opening and closing my mouth.
“No problem.” says the waitress, my waitress. Lindsey.
♠ ♠ ♠
Enjoy. :]