I Wanna be Your Last, First Love

Shimmering and bright, the sun slipped down behind the skyscrapers giving the isle of Manhattan an eerie shadowy look. Pink, blue, and purple swirls covered the sky which set a calm feel on the island which many people never took the time to embrace. Whenever it was six thirty on the island, and the sky turned into the beautiful swirl of pastel colors, the normal business women and men never took the time to look up and smile at it. Instead they chattered away on their phones, and rushed home even if they were ahead of their air tight schedule. Many people took the pastel swirl of a sky as a sign that it was night time. It was time to start dinner, homework, and other various before sleep rituals. Then there were a few, maybe the point six in the one million point six people that lived in Manhattan, that would be just waking up at this time to start their day. Many of these people were either night cops, the really strong ones that used their guns more than any others. Then, there would be some that were going in for the night shift as a security guard at some bank or unimportant place. Finally, there were the many young teens –or early twenties- that were just waking up to go to their waitressing job at some ’open 24/7’ restaurant.

The last bit, waitressing, that was where I found myself categorized (instead of where I wanted to be categorized, as a well paid artist) on the isle. Trying to find a well-paying job in Manhattan during the day for a nineteen year old girl right out of a small town in Ontario, Canada was basically impossible. Many restaurants gave good hours, but little pay. Some others gave little hours with a lot of pay, but during the most annoying time of the day, twelve and six, and my social skills were not up to qualification. Lucky for me, there were those restaurants that decided that using the horrible phrase ‘open twenty four hours’ were necessary, but they had amazing pay. The horrible hours of eight at night to four in the morning meant absolutely nothing when you were informed you keep your tips (since they believed not many people would come to eat at this time, which was a horrible assumption) on top of the amazing twenty dollars an hour. At the end of the shift you got to take the tips received, which totaled well over two-hundred do to the high priced food, and thought of making 180 dollars for the day home to sleep on.

A loud buzzer was screaming from the room over signaling that a cup of coffee was finally brewed up for me to take to work. Unfolding myself from my couch, I dragged my body into the tiny kitchen and grabbed my plain black travel mug off of the counter. Unscrewing the cap off and pouring the coffee into the mug I shut my eyes and took a long inhale letting the strong smell of coffee bean fill my head. Opening my eyes, I put some milk and sugar in the mug, stirred it, and then picked it up. It was a little after seven thirty which left me less than a half hour to walk six city blocks.

Shrugging into my short black pea coat, slipping into my chucks, and grabbing my purse, I walked out of the front door of my apartment. After I shut it quietly behind me, I followed my normal route. Down the hall, into the elevator it was time to press the worn out number five button. Like usual, I was the only person in the huge metal box. The doors slowly shut and shielded me from the rest of the hallway, which was completely vacant. A low rumble was followed by the small table of numbers above the doors lighting up. The first number was five, and as the elevator descended, so did the number lit.

When the light hit the uppercase ‘L’, the doors slid open and as I walked out, a group of people walked in, talking on their Bluetooth devices stuck to their ear. To that, I simply sighed heavily and took a sip of my coffee letting the hazel orbs in my head inspect the people around me. Many of them wearing suits, other wearing still somewhat fancy clothing, and then there was me, in a pair of black skinny jeans, a white v-neck covered by my coat, and a pair of chucks. I never minded sticking out of a group of people, and in the big city, no one really gave a shit what you wore.

Strolling through the lobby, I dodged a few mindless people on the phone, and made my way to the huge revolving door. Letting a few people walk in, I slipped into one of the slots and pushed the door until I was out on the sidewalk. A welcoming chilly night breeze hit my face and my reaction, like every other night, was to take a sip of my steaming hot coffee. After a painful swallow, my legs kicked into autopilot. Not a thought ran through my mind on where I needed to go, I did it so often it slipped into one of those subconscious things you do, like breathing.

A few more strong cold winds hit me in the face in the next six blocks. People would cut in front of me, my shoulder would hit another, but nothing broke my walk or the other persons’. In the city, there was no “I’m sorry”, people were just scene as obstacles, like traffic cones and if you hit one of those, you weren’t going to apologize to it. Another thing that I fell in love with when I came here was the walk or don’t walk signs. When the small white figure lit up, no one walked, but when it was the bright orange hand, people flooded the streets and caused more traffic than originally there. But after all of that, the hectic and nostalgia of walking through the city, it always relaxed me and put a smile on my face. No one knew anyone here; you could walk down the street and not recognize a single face something very uncommon in Stouffville.

Even the mention of my hometown brought a whole round of unwanted emotions. The one that hurt the most was regret. With thoughts of what kind of a relationship I tore to shreds, tears would fill the rim of my eyes and my stomach would knot in a painful way. I was sixteen and extremely stupid. Not in the way that I just broke off a friendship like that over something unimportant, but because I couldn’t read my own emotions. Months after everything had changed, as in Michael and I not even acknowledging the others existence, I realized as I stared at him one day that those feelings in my stomach when we were hanging out alone or lying on the bleachers under the stars on Saturday nights weren’t because I was happy to be around him. That emotion was love, love for another human being, the kind of love that starts relationships, not friendships.

It took me six months after the fact we made believe the other didn’t exists to each other to realize that I was madly in love with Michael Del Zotto.

Maison’s came up on my left quickly. The chalk board outside has the nights specials scribbled down on it and the prices in tiny print next to the names. The door was wide open and the strong smell of French food filled my head. After a year of working here you would think the smell wouldn’t affect me anymore. After two steps into the restaurant, I felt someone grab my shoulders. A small shake and I was spun around to face my ‘shift –buddy’ Elise, better known as Ely. Her crystal clear blue eyes connected with mine, and I suspected something was wrong. Instead of the normal glitter that made almost anyone smile, the blue around her pupil was dull. With a deep inhale she coughed into her elbow and then looked back at me.

“I have to get home”, I nodded in agreement with her. “Can you fill in with me tonight?” her voice was strained and cracked a few times. Her face, now that I took the time to look at it, was pale and tinted with a little bit of green. The smile was wiped clean off of her face, and large unusual black bags to place under her eyes like she had not slept in days.

I nodded and gave her a hug and pushed her out of the door telling her to go home and I would give her the tips she made. When she told me to keep them, I really knew she was sick. Ely was an amazingly nice person, but she knew how to live in the city, and that was not letting anyone borrow money or take what was hers. Offering me the tips she would get on the tables she would wait, which would total up at least to three hundred since tonight was Friday, was something the normal minded Ely would never do.

Once I made sure Ely was on her way home, I walked through the casual part of the restaurant and back into the ‘Employee’s Only Room’, where shrugged out of my black pea coat, and placed my things in my little locker. When I first realized I had a locker it reminded me of high school, and when the memory flooded my mind, I felt sick. Sure enough, as I shut the locker my stomach rumbled and a wave of sickness washed over my body. Even taking a few steps, I would feel dizzy and have to hold onto something to keep myself up. When I explained this to Ely, she told me I had to go back and settle everything with the boy that was going to be the only way to stop this. Instead of taking her advice which was almost always right, I rolled my eyes and informed her she was insane.

The slim green card that I had to swipe under the clock when I got here and left was in its normal slot. Sliding it under the clock, a few red numbers were now on the little slot next to Friday, and once I made sure it read a time before eight o’clock, I nodded and put the card back into its slot and grabbed my apron already equipped with my check pad, pen, and straws. I decided it would be to annoying to put everything in the apron when I got here, especially if I was running late, and when my shift was over, I wanted to go home, not clean out my apron.

Tied tightly around my waist, I walked out of the back room and was immediately caught by Joey, the host, also my boss. “You’re taking over for Ely?” I nodded and watched him roll his eyes out of frustration which I understood. It was Friday night in Manhattan. Even better it was the time for of all of the sports to end like Hockey, Basketball, or even Baseball. And what would be better after a great win or a horrible loss than to drown your emotions in food and alcohol? Nothing.

He informed me that tonight was basically going to be hell. We had two reservation parties, both in my portion of the restaurant. One was a bunch of businessmen discussing, in Joey’s words, “Corporate Shit” way to loud which would annoy the others around them. Then, there was going to be a bunch of women for some weird club coming here, who were probably going to get drunk and be just as loud as the businessmen. That wasn’t even the best part; the best part was I had to serve both of them. Oh, and they were scheduled for eight thirty, which was just the cherry on top. They were going to be here for a huge portion of my shift, and tonight was one of those nights where I wanted a few customers and some alone time to hang in the Kitchen with Philippe and share a huge plate of cheese fries with Ely and him. Obviously that was not going to happen.

All of the tables in my section were clear. Instead of sitting down and twiddling my thumbs or doodling on some of my check pages, I walked over to the bar and sat down ordering myself a club soda from the bar tender Jerome who was a good friend of mine. Well, a good work friend, other than now we never hung out. “No customers tonight?” He asked sliding the glass to me and glancing up at the screen above him. It was a hockey game, A New York Rangers game to be exact. I watched the small players skate around in bright blue jerseys. The score was four to one and the announcers were going on about some new rookie defensemen. Once the Rangers scored again, I directed my attention to the cheering people around me all high fiving, and then there someone screamed ‘a round on me!’ That was my cue and seconds later, I was back into my section of the restaurant observing my empty tables. Sitting down at one of the two seated tables against the wall, I put my glass down and took a long sip letting my thoughts run wild.

The first thought, like any other time I decided to let them run wild, was about none other than Michael Del Zotto. I wondered how he was doing, if he ever made it to the NHL, or he’s still leading the Generals in Oshawa as one of the best offensive defensemen that place had ever had the pleasure to sign. I could call Steve and ask him, but we had not spoken since the last day of senior year when him and Laura went away on vacation. When they came back, I was gone already settled into some shitty apartment in Downtown Manhattan. I knew they would be angry, and my suspicions were sealed when I never received a worry phone call or text message. They left me alone, and although it hurt for a few days I realized I didn’t call them either. And there was the overbearing thought that I wanted to shake my small home town off of me and start fresh, and you could say that was starting new on the good friends page do.

Don’t get me wrong, there are days when I wish I never left Steve and Laura, and even Michael, but I had to. In New York, I had a chance. In Stouffville, I was going to be stuck working as a cashier in the local supermarket for the rest of my life. I needed to try, plus New York being one of the most beautiful things I had ever laid my eyes on didn’t help me wanting to go home.

”Here you go”, my eyes drifted from my glass over to the small corner table. A young couple was seated and Joey handed them their menus. As he walked passed me, he rubbed his fingers together, giving me the universal sigh for ‘that guys got a lot of money’. Nodding my head, Joey picked up the pace and walked back to the front of the restaurant. Taking a deep breath, I quickly pulled my hair into a ponytail, making sure my side swept bangs were in front of my eyes. Pushing my drink to the side, I got up and stuck my pen behind my ear and walked over to the table.

Smiling, I introduced myself as their waitress. “Can I get you some drinks to start you off?” I remembered the points to good waitressing and large tips. Eye contact, smiling, perkiness –like you enjoyed your job-, and kindness. The man went to speak first, and I jerked my eyes to his. Smiling, I took down that he wanted a Pepsi, and then I looked over at the girl who looked at me and smiled. She ordered a seltzer with a lime, not a lemon. Nodding, I took a deep breath and stuck the pen back behind my ear. “I’ll be right back with your beverages”, I said smiling and turned on my heels and headed toward the bar which was right next to the bar. Grabbing two glasses, I walked over to the machine and placed the cup under the ice.

Here we are with our youngest defensemen since… The sound of the machine crushing ice drowned out the interview. Once the glass was half filled, I put the next glass under the ice and hit the button. As the sound of grinding ice filled the room, I received a few glares from men at the bar, but I ignored them. How does it feel getting you first NHL goal M- I hit the button for the soda, and even though it should have been a smooth sound, it was just as loud as the ice. The soda machine here had to be from a good thirty years ago, just updated with the new labels for the drinks. When the cup was filled to the top I walked over to the end of the bar and called Jerome over. Now you can go celebrate your first NHL goal the announcer said with a chuckle. The player muttered a mall thank you followed by a fake laugh. With a roll of my eyes I told Jerome I needed a club soda. Nodding, he quickly filled the cup up and handed it to me telling me that I missed some hockey player that would probably make me drool. He seemed like the kind of guy I would go for. To that, I flipped Jerome the middle finger and walked out listening to him laughing from behind the bar.

When I reached the table, I noticed that another table in my area was now occupied by a family. Sighing heavily, I walked to the couple and set down their drinks. “You ready for appetizers or need a few more minutes?” Smiling, I looked down at them. They shared a glance then looked at me and said they needed a few more minutes. “Alright, I’ll be back in a few” Trying to keep the smile on my face I walked over to the next filled up table and smiled at the father who was holding a tiny new born girl. “How can I help you guys tonight?” Pen in-between my fingers and check pad in hand, I took down the drinks that he wanted and the kids, when I turned to the mom and she smiled weakly at me. “Is it possible to get me a Long Island Ice Tea?” My eyes bulged a little, but then I nodded and quickly scribbled it down. Informing them I would be right back with their drinks I walked back to the bar for what felt like the eight time that night.

“Taylor!” My eyes jerked to Jerome who was on the other side of the bar leaning against it looking up at the screen. “Come over here, they’re going to interview that kid I was telling you about!” Rolling my eyes I walked over to the other side of the bar and took the empty seat right next to him. With a yawn, I told him I needed a Long Island Ice Tea. In reply, he told me to stop worrying about everyone else and watch the damn screen. Chuckling I shook my head and directed my full attention to the two old announcers on the screen. and here’s Stan with our young defensemen, again the screen made a quick transaction to an old man with grey hair and a grey beard and who I assumed to be the young defensemen. His face was tilted down as his hands pressed his hat to his head. “How was your first NHL goal?” Slowly the boy brought his head up and looked up at the man who was out of the picture. Brown eyes, that adorable smile, and untamable brown curls filled the screen and I immediately grew sick. “I knew you’d like him”, Jerome said sliding me the drink. With a small shake of my head I got off of the chair and walked back over to the soda machine. His voice was the only thing I could hear in the room, even when I pressed all of the buttons on the machine. Once the drinks were done, I put them on a plate and walked out of the bar area as quick as possible.

The smile was wiped clean off of my face as I handed the family their drinks and asked if they were ready to order, when they said no, I walked over to the other table, they were ready. The man got a steak, the girl got a salad. Nodding with a forced smile, I grabbed the menus and took them back to the front by Joey who caught onto the new look on my face of shock and confusion.

“What’s wrong, Tay?” I cringed, grinding my teeth together.

“Don’t call me that”, I snapped back quickly. Joey simply put his hands up and shook his head, his eyes now wide. “Please, don’t call me that ever again”, I shut my eyes tightly for a moment trying to erase the sound of Michael calling me that whenever he saw me. Once it faded a little, my eye opened and a pounding headache formed behind my eyes, and what felt like in my nose. With a heavy sigh, my feet brought me to the kitchen where I hung up the paper with the orders on it and then walked back out into the restaurant and over to the table where my club soda sat untouched. Sliding into the chair, I grabbed the cool glass, the small beads of condensation melting under my fingertips. Placing the straw between my lips, I shut my eyes and held back the urge to cry.

Thirty NHL teams in America and Michael Del Zotto had to get drafted to the New York Rangers. Out of all of the days to interview him, they interview him now, when I’m going to be constantly going to the bar. Out of all the places in the world he could be, he had to be on the same Island as me. With a heavy sigh, I tried to think of things to cheer me up. Maybe he wouldn’t remember me. Maybe we would never see each other, he is a hot-shot Hockey player now and I am only a lowly waitress. I mean there are 1.6 million people on the island of Manhattan, what are the chances that Michael Del Zotto, best friend of ten years, crush for ten years, and I are going to ever run into each other. One out of One point Six million.

Smiling I leaned back in my chair and took a long sip of my club soda. 1 out of 1.6 million, that had to be the most comforting thing I had heard since I moved here. Placing my glass back down on the table, I looked down and put my finger on the ring of water the bottom of the glass left on the table. Letting my finger trace it a few times, I listened as I heard a loud group of people enter in the small room. Eyes jerking up, I came into contact with four men all in suits, chattering away with angry expressions on their faces. Those must be the businessmen, and with my experience of them, they were going to be sending me back and forth from t the bar all night, which I was supposed to do, unless a cop was around. If this place got caught having a nineteen year old here serving alcohol, the owner would be in, let me state this plainly, deep shit.

Once Joey had them seated he walked over to me and told me that the other group cancelled. A real smile surfaced on my lips and I sprang out of my seat and gave Joey a hug. “Miss Bi-polar today aren’t we?” He asked still obviously a little angry about my sudden bitchy attitude toward him. With a sigh I told him I would tell him all about it later. With a nod, he told me to go make some nice tips and left me alone to work on the three tables I had at hand.

The rest of the night played out to me as a blur. I took the families order for food, and then took the businessmen’s order for drinks. After a few minutes, a new couple had taken a seat in the back, and as soon as the first couple had their food and the newest couple had their drinks, another group of people came in, and from there I was on autopilot. Rushing from here to there did a good job erasing most of what had happened between nine and one in the morning. One in the morning was when the businessmen finally left and I collected my biggest tip of the night. One hundred and thirty dollars.

After one in the morning, I would mostly have no one at the tables. If I got lucky, a few late night cops would come in for a nice diner, but that was usually on core weekdays, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Now I would get lucky if I got a couple to come in.

Bored out of my mind, I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a wet rag and a dry one. Walking back out into the restaurant, I went around to every empty table, which was mostly the section I worked, and cleaned the tables and seats off, then dried them off. When every seat was clean, I took the rags back to the sink and then walked over to Philippe. His eyes were tired as he leaned against the sink counter, munching away on a Italian sub he made for himself.

“Care to give a poor girl some nice grub?” I said giving him the best puppy dog face I could muster. With a chuckle, Philippe nodded and pointed over to the white bag on the counter. After he finished chewing the huge mouthful of sandwich, he informed me that sooner or later he was expecting me and that half of the sandwich was all for me. Then he went on to say that tomorrow if Ely was in, we would have out cheese and gravy fries that he knew I was dying for.

Taking the white bag in my hand, I gave Philippe a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek as I grabbed a bottle of Poland Spring water and walked back out into the table area. The smell of the sandwich was getting to me and I rushed through the tables back to the table I was sitting at in the beginning of my shift. Sliding into the chair, I set the bag down and uncapped my water. After taking a much needed sip, I pulled the half of sub out of the bag and held it under my nose, taking in a long inhale.

Just as I took the first bite and smile from the foods exciting my taste buds, loud male voices echoed from the hallway and no more than five seconds later, four boys were getting seated in the table in the corner of the room, the only table that had the curve booth seats. As Joey walked passed me he gave me the symbol for money again and I quickly took a napkin from the bag and wiped off my face. Taking another sip of water, I made sure my hair was nice and took the pen and stuck it behind me ear.

Getting up, I took a deep breath and walked over to the table. I stood behind the two boys I the seats and decided I would just keep my eyes on the two men in the bunk, they seemed a little rowdy and I didn’t feel like dealing with cheesy pick-up lines. “Hey guys how can I help you tonight?” I said smiling widely.

“I told you this was a great idea, Brian!” The boy in my view said hitting the other boy sitting next to him. Letting out a small laugh, I pulled my check pad out of my apron and took a deep breath. “What can I get you guys to drink?” My eyes landed on the first boy who I could not consciously identify as Brian, he ordered a vodka n’ tonic which wasn’t a surprise. The next boy, who from small conversation going on while Brian had to stop staring at me and chose a drink, was Ryan, he ordered a jack and Coke. I nodded scribbling it down. With a deep inhale, I took a step back and looked at the next boy in the chair; he had dirty blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. He gave me a sweet smile and ordered a Corona. After a few insults from the two guys across from him about ordering a ‘chick drink’, I turned to the last chair. He didn’t turn around at first as he tried to defend himself against the other four guys for being a baby, as in not old enough to order alcohol like the other three had which meant I had to go back to the bar. Oh, I hope they are not showing that interview again.

Finally, the boy turned around in his chair and went to speak when he stopped. My eyes were on the check pad, and as the silence from him lingered, I looked up from my check pad and stared, mouth ajar. My mind could not comprehend the situation I was now in. He was sitting right in front of me. His eyes were the same chocolate brown, his hair was the same unruly mess, and he looked exactly like he did when we were sixteen, except his face matured a little and he was noticeably more muscular. My mouth was dry and no words came to my mind as he stood up and kept his body maybe a foot away from me.

“Tay?” Once he whispered that, I turned on my heels and ran back into the kitchen. Once the door swung shut, I took my apron off and threw it on the ground. Some of the money flew out, but I ignored it. I had bigger problems, much bigger problems.

The one person I knew well in Manhattan, one person out of one point six million, the only one I never wanted to run into. And I run into him. Within five hours of finding out he was on this island, I run into him. Even better, he remembers me. Even better than that, I am the only waitress to serve that table which means I was going to have to go back out their eventually.

I pressed my fingers into my eyes and stopped the flow of tears. Sadly, I knew someday, somehow, I was going to have to face him again. I just didn’t suspect that time to be so soon.