All I'll Ever Need

I leaned against the bar as I finished wiping away the last greasy stain while Mr. Johnson finished tallying up the sales for the night. It was almost the typical Tuesday night after hours, but Trevor had called in sick, so it was just the boss and me.

He counted and recounted, as per usual, while I went back into the kitchen and shut all the lights off. Everything was cleaned and ready for the openers to start tomorrow, so it was time to get home, out of this stupid dress, and away from Mr. Johnson.

Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. The moment I headed towards the door to clock out, Mr. Johnson shut the cash register and looked up at me.

“Hang on a second, Mika,” he said. “I noticed you working really hard on your shift, and I wanted to commend you.”

“Uh, thanks,” I mumbled.

He was a heavier man, which on any other occasion wouldn’t have even caught my attention. I could hear him, though, as he moved from behind the register and came over to stand behind me. “I didn’t make a mistake hiring you. You’re the most talented and beautiful waitress we have.”

I pierced my bottom lip with my teeth and nodded. “Uh, thanks, Mr. Johnson.”

“No, no,” he smiled, shaking his head slightly as he pressed his hand against the time-clock. “It’s Sam, remember? We discussed this last time.”

Yeah, last time you tried to get me to come into your office “for a little chat.”

This place wasn’t so bad, really. There were very rare occasions I was alone with him, and when I was, I wanted to be anywhere else.

Everyone else made it worth it, though. There were genuinely good and caring people working here, something you didn’t find often in the world nowadays.

“Sometimes, I wonder what other talents you’re hiding,” he whispered. “I’m sure they’d merit a pay raise.”

Every part of my being hoped it was just my worst fears that heard him say that, but I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, feel his gut press against my back.

I swallowed hard and tried to reach for the time-clock, but he stopped me. “Uh, I have t-to be up early in the morning, sir, I need to get home.”

“Well, let’s have a quick chat back in my office first, shall we?” he murmured, and his breath pulled chill bumps on the back of my neck.

I could just smell the onions from his triple cheeseburger and wanted to vomit. “I can’t. I really need to get home.”

“You know, I’d hate to have to fire such a wonderful waitress,” he said, drawing out each word a distinct amount to add to the threat. To add to the fear, he put his hand on mine and started rubbing sensual circles around my palm

Instinctively, I pulled my arm up towards my collar and held onto it. I swallowed back my fear and closed my eyes, not really sure how to get out. Of course I wasn’t going back in his office, and my next move was a kick to his groin if he touched me again.

A miracle occurred in the form of a phone call, however, so he didn’t even get the chance.

I pulled it out of my pocket and answered far too quickly. Like my friends, Mr. Johnson knew I had to answer my phone more times than not. This time, I didn’t have to see who it was to know that I had to answer.

“Hello?”

The unmistakable laugh of Sidney Crosby was never more beautiful. “Well, that was fast. What are you up to?”

I exhaled sharply and bit down on my bottom lip. “Um, not much. Just leaving work.”

“While you’re at work, you are not allowed to make social calls,” Mr. Johnson growled.

I took the opportunity to clock myself out, and I scurried out the front door. Because I wasn’t sure if he was gonna come out and yell at me or not, I quickly hurried into Sidney’s Range Rover and locked the doors.

Sidney had been shockingly quiet on my pursuit out to my car, but he heard the doors lock up. “Uh, am I getting you in trouble?”

“No,” I sighed, and the relief of my safety was intense. My cheeks burned and my eyes felt like they had been open far too long, but I was still able to smile. “You’re saving me.”

I think it made him happy to hear that. He didn’t laugh, but the noise he made resembled a laugh, yet humor wasn’t laced in with the sound. It was joy.

“From what exactly?”

I bit down on my lip a little harder and started up the Range Rover. “My creepy boss. He likes to hit on the young waitresses any chance he gets.”

“And you still work there why?”

His concern was actually touching—and surprising. Any time I mentioned Mr. Johnson to Suzie, she just said, “Don’t worry about him. That’s how all guys are.”

Her lack of concern always irked me. It wasn’t like I didn’t have reasons to be concerned, but sometimes, she got frustrated when I was. “I told you, Mika. That’s just how guys are.”

Maybe it was how guys were, but that didn’t make it okay.

“Well, I mean, normally, I’m never alone with him,” I admitted. “When I close, my friend, Trevor, always closes with me. He doesn’t leave until I do, so he looks out for me. He was sick today, however, and I was the last one there.”

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, and there was no more traces of happiness in his voice. Now, he was on full alert. “Are you okay? Do I need to call the chief?”

The shock I felt from his concern didn’t relent, but I felt good about it. Sidney Crosby, the asshole who ran the stop sign and totaled my car, was concerned about my creepy boss.

I smiled. “Uh, no. He didn’t do anything to me. Just tried to get me to come back to his office for a ‘chat’ to talk about my ‘special talents that merit a raise.’ Look, Sidney, you don’t have to pretend it’s a big deal. Guys are just like that.”

“You clearly haven’t met any good guys then,” he scoffed. “I think that’s utterly horrible, and no one deserves to be treated like that. You aren’t some piece of ass, Mika, and he shouldn’t treat you as such. What makes you think all guys are like that?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I mean, that’s what my friend Suzie says when I tell her about Mr. Johnson. I thought she knew more than me about them. I don’t really deal with most guys. The guys that come into the diner are either really nice elderly men or really obnoxious teenagers. You get the occasional creep, but most of them, you don’t talk to enough to get to know them.”

“Well, Suzie’s wrong and needs to meet better guys herself,” he said. “A real man isn’t like that.”

I didn’t know what else to say on the subject, so instead, as I pulled out and started the journey home, I changed the subject. “So what is the real man I’m talking to up to?”

He laughed. “Well, if you must know, I’m standing on the balcony of my hotel room.”
“Is Sochi pretty?”

Another laugh pushed through his nose, and I imagined he was smiling. Sidney seemed like the kinda guy who smiled a lot, based on how happy he always seemed to be. “Yeah, real pretty. It’s best at night when the sun goes down and the city comes alive.”

Just the thought of a snowy, well-lit city made me smile. Of course, I lived in Pittsburgh. Snow was common, as were lit up buildings in the dark hours of the night, but I imagined somewhere different than Pittsburgh, somewhere with even more snow.

If I was gonna dream, might as well dream of something different.

I found myself smiling again. “I bet it is.”

I didn’t know what it was about Sidney that made me smile more in a ten minute conversation than I usually did in a week, but I also didn’t think too much about it. Even in my own vehicle, I didn’t take chances with car accidents, so when driving, I was on full alert, all the time.

“So how did your brother’s doctor’s appointment go today?”

Another surprise . . . he remembered that?

I paused for a second to gather my thoughts so I didn’t say something stupid, but my thoughts were all over the place. How did he remember? Why did he remember? Did he genuinely care?

He must care because he called in the first place. We had discussed the plan to meet back up once he got back from Sochi. I would pick him up at the airport, take him home, and we’d talk about getting me a new car. There was nothing left to discuss, yet he called again.

“It was as good as it can be,” I finally said. “He, uh, isn’t showing signs of weakening bones or muscles, so there’s still a chance he can walk again.”

“How did it even happen?”

I didn’t wanna go back there, but I never wanted to do anything that went outside of my comfort zone. In all actuality, I hadn’t really talked to anyone about what happened with Matty. Matty didn’t wanna talk about it, and though he insisted he was okay, I knew he wasn’t.

A part of him blamed himself. He would never admit it out-loud, but I knew he did. He hated himself because he got hurt, because he couldn’t provide for me like he used to do.

It was the sad truth. He had no reason to blame himself, but I knew he did.

Suzie didn’t wanna talk about it either. She insisted it was the past, and the only way I would move on from it was to erase it from memory and take care of Matty like he deserved.

So some random person I barely knew asking me to talk about something no one else would . . . why wouldn’t I do that?

Many reasons. He doesn’t need to know about you. You don’t need to stir up old feelings.

But . . . feelings didn’t just sit down in your heart like stagnant water forever. Eventually, they would resurface much stronger than before, and sometimes, it was at the worst timing.

So maybe, just maybe, I needed to control those feelings for once in my fucking life.

That’s why I just spit it out. “He was the captain of the Muskegon Lumberjacks. It was the year he was asked to come to the NHL draft. He was in the championship game, fighting for the Clark Cup, and . . . you know as well as anyone that hockey isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. Tensions rise, and people get mad.”

Sidney snorted. “That’s putting it lightly.”

“Well, someone got mad at Matty,” I said, and I shrugged. “He was ‘just trying to turn,’ but he stuck his leg out and knocked Matty flat on his back. It broke his hips and leg, and it fractured his lower spinal columns. He hasn’t been able to walk since, much less play hockey.”

Sidney didn’t have something cute and funny to say. As a matter of fact, he didn’t have anything to say until I pulled into my driveway and shut off the Range Rover.

“Will he ever walk again?”

“It’s possible,” I said. “He just doesn’t have motivation anymore. Any time he makes progress, he gets discouraged and can’t keep it up, so he gives up. I know there’s still hope because his legs haven’t started weakening. His bones and muscles are still strong enough to walk. Hell, if he got walking good enough, he could probably play hockey again.”

“Would he want to do that?” he asked.

I quirked my lips to the side and shook my head. “It’s . . . complicated.”

“I have a feeling complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he sighed. “Were you at the game when it happened?”

“Of course I was,” I whispered, and this was the part where the emotions hit me—when I was alone with my memory of the incident. As terrible as my short term memory was, my long term was precise. I could remember it like it was happening. It played like a bad movie in my head, and it hurt. Just like when it happened, the tears brimmed over the sides of my eyes and fell down my face. I had to hold my nose so I didn’t cry too loud, but it hurt. My heart hurt, my lungs hurt, my head hurt . . . sorrow wasn’t a feeling that needed to be repressed.

I knew that all too well, yet I tried to repress it anyways. Now I was paying for it, and it sucked.

“That couldn’t have been easy,” he murmured. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

I let out a breath and bit down on my bottom lip so hard that I was almost certain it pierced the skin. “No, Sidney . . . don’t be sorry. It was almost six years ago.”

“Six years?” he breathed. “You were sixteen?”

I nodded. “Sixteen.”

“That couldn’t have been easy on you and your dad,” he whispered.

“My dad has more problems to worry about,” I scoffed. “Doubt it bothered him much. I, uh, I’m home now, and everyone’s asleep, so I should probably let you go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. On the other end, I heard him groaning, but I didn’t know why or about what. Almost as quickly as the sound came through the receiver, his voice did, too. “I, uh, just wanted to call and see how things went. I’m glad they went well.”

“Thanks, Sidney,” I said. “I can’t believe you actually remembered.”

“I remember things pretty well,” he said, and he let out a soft laugh.

No matter how half-hearted and tired the laugh was, it felt good to hear him laugh again. It brought a tired smile to my face as I hopped out of the Range Rover.

“Well, thank you.”