You'll Never Know

Sometimes I really hate my job. And by sometimes, I mean all the time. The Sand Bar is right in Boston, just by the water. A total tourist trap. The food is alright, if you like seafood. "Grace?" A hand waved in front of my face. Oh shit. I blinked back into reality, a tray jabbed my side as May, the manager, tried to shove it in my arms. "Sorry," I grumbled, grabbing the tray and leaving the break station. I'm the most reliable waitress around, and I'm constantly kicking myself about that. Reliable. I don't know how to be anything else. "Deliver that to Table 5," May ordered and then disappeared to shout orders to other employees. Table 5 is on the huge deck outside. This area is the most popular one with the customers. I had to admit, it has a great view. I shielded my eyes from the bright sun and searched for Table 5. I saw Greg, the awkward 15 year old we just hired. He struggles remembering the specials and drops the menus a good 3 times. I shook my head as I made my way over to him. Did I have to do everything? I put on a smile and whispered the specials to Greg, soon tiptoeing away. Table 5, okay. It's hard to see with all the people moving their heads, raising their arms to take pictures of the view, but I finally get there. "Here we go!" I plop down the tray and smile at the family before me. Two little kids slurped the last of their drinks and threw them at me, demanding new ones. Their parents didn't tell them to mind their manners and dig into the appetizers I just served. My smile fadesdand I walk away to get them the drinks. I feel my phone in my pocket, feel it vibrating. I know I shouldn't check it. Heck, I don't even want to check it. But I do. "When r u coming home?" Caleb. I rolled my eyes but also felt a chill run up my spine. "idk busy day" I texted back and quickly turned my phone off. Work was better than dealing with him and that's saying something. I grabbed the drinks, resisting the urge to spit in them, and gave them to the rude family at Table 5. I expected to have to work a few more hours, especially since May caught me daydreaming, but she quickly took me aside and said I could go home. "Grace, you deserve a break!" She then took my apron and notepad away from me, and shoo-ed me out the door. I stepped outside the restaurant, the chilly air making me freeze. I didn't want to go home. I was shaking more from the thought of Caleb than the actual weather. I stuck my hands under my armpits to keep warm and yelped, forgetting of the bruise there. Shit. I then quickened my pace and rushed to my apartment.

Caleb and I didn't technically live together. He just never left. I was known as kind of a tough girl, but Caleb was tougher. I knocked on the door. Of course he locked it, mad that I wasn't texting him the whole night. The door opened the smallest amount, enough to just show Caleb's face. "Why're you home?" He sneered. "I got out early!" I smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. He was mad, but what for? "Get in," He grabbed my upper arm and yanked me into the apartment. I yelped again. That bruise. "Where'd you get that?" He asked, rolling his eyes at the tears in mine. What kind of boyfriend was he? "You know how," I angrily replied, locking myself in the bedroom. He then turned the volume on the TV up as high as it could go, drowning everything out. I cursed and punched the pillow. Why did I let things get like this?