“It’s so busy I think I might pass out. We just got a table of six guys up to the second floor for dinner, and we’re running out of side dishes.” Greta comes sweeping into the kitchen where I’m heating chicken wings in a flash fry for an order and leans over me to stick a paper tab on the order line over my head. The new group seems to have enormous appetites and is going for a four-course in one sitting.
“All six want the scallop starter…” that’s easy for me to handle alone.” she is red-faced and sweaty and starts pulling out the necessary ingredients to get on it. Even with both of us cooking and serving, we still struggle to keep waiting time down. We should start thinking of a kitchen part-timer if this summer progresses like this.
“I don’t think we can take many more people in if this keeps up. How many boats have docked today?” I’m feeling the pressure after boats started swarming into the harbor at five pm, and we got a heavy stream of new faces coming in the door on top of the midday rush from scheduled boats. We’re not equipped to keep up with the sheer volume of people.
“Too many. One of them was a mini-break cruise boat. Like …. where they even came from is beyond me. They serve food aboard, yet we got at least thirty of their passengers here for lunch. I’m not complaining because it’s cash…. but can they not spread it out a little.”
“It’s new scenery and a change from eating on their boats. I would come to try out a new island too if I owned a yacht.” I point out, catching her weird slight eyebrow raise because she always assumes that my once lavish and decadent self probably owned everything from yachts to airplanes. I never. I never had time for anything like vacations.
“Well, the new guys are hot but wreak of money, so I have a feeling they’re going to be picky and demanding. I don’t think a single item of their clothing costs less than a grand.”
“Do you want me to serve their table? You know I can handle the upper class in my sleep.” I volunteer, having dealt with the spoiled and wealthy many times before. My accent and demeanor usually impact keeping them in their place, while Greta gets too sassy and doesn’t handle catty-rich people.
“Yeah. Although, if they offer phone numbers, the tall dumb looking one is totally my style. He’s in a white Louis Vuitton tee and a total dreamboat.” She grins at me, and I shake my head, laughing at her shamelessness. Greta isn’t sexless by choice, just the sheer lack of men she’s attracted to on this island. She has expensive taste and an aversion to letting her guard down and trusting the male species.
“Always a silver lining, huh.”
“Hey, you haven’t seen him. They look around our age too. I’m deprived living here. I’m not against having a sexy sugar daddy.” This is an ongoing joke, but I know Greta isn’t swayed by money. She’s too independent and self-reliant to let a man pay for anything.
“You’re shameless.” I giggle at her before scooping out the two servings of wings onto the plates I have ready with salad and sides. Scooping my basket of fries from the fryer and plate up as precisely and artistically as possible. “Who comes to an award-winning seafood shack by the sea and orders chicken?” I smirk as I pull the two plates up and move to take them out to my waiting table.
“Locals.” She laughs after me, and I burst into a proper laugh because she’s right. Two servings for some of our boat boys treating themselves to dinner and making my way out into the restaurant.
I hand them over in quick timing, a pro at navigating out the maze of tables, and wander back to our center aisle, where we keep our chilled water and such for setting up tables. Readying a tray of complimentary breadsticks and rolls to take upstairs to top up waiting tables with no food yet. I should check if anyone needs anything while I’m at it. We’re at a thirty-minute wait on main courses as it is.
We have music playing, and the chatter is loud, so the place feels hectically full, and it boosts my mental mood and morale as I head across the busy floor, dodging tables, and climb the stairs to the lounge. I get a bird’s eye view from here as I ascend and happily hum to myself at seeing all the merry chatting faces, enjoying our wares, and bringing our place to life.
I have learned from experience always to have one eye on all tiny people when they come in. They can’t help themselves from running around, especially after serving the dessert. I have to dodge some running kids and manage with expertise to lift the tray up and away as I twirl by them and carry on as though I didn’t miss a near disaster.
“Waitress…. can we have more orange juice over here?” A female voice calls out from behind me on this level, and I turn my head. I was aiming for the far left table at the furthest corner, so I’m still moving that way while looking backward and smiling brightly. Pasting on the perfect hospitality face.
“Sure, just give me five. I’ll be right on that.” I’m still too engrossed looking their way and don’t see the tall man who’s gotten up and heading mine, with his eyes glued to his phone while going for the bathroom, and we catch one another shoulder to chest in passing. A mild ‘ooft’ and I’m knocked for six by his solid muscle mass.
I’m spun just enough with the collision that my tray tips off one side of my hands, and as I try to right it, everything slides that way, and I lose its balance. I immediately dive after it to catch what I can and end up on my knees, scrambling to scoop everything into one place before feet trample it. Dropping it all on the floor. Thankfully it’s dried goods and minimal mess.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Let me help you.” A low husky voice comes level with my ear as smooth tan hands and a muscular set of legs in jeans kneel in front of me and overtake my line of vision. Hurrying to help, I’m frozen stiff, my heart hammering through my chest, and my body refuses to cooperate. It’s like I just got zapped with a taser that freezes time and space, and I forget to breathe.
His voice was so spot-on for the memory that I refuse to allow myself to wander back to that it shocks me into stillness for a second. I'm dazed and have to shake myself mentally for spacing out like this.
“It’s okay… I can do it.” I stammer, trying to pull my head out of my ass and move to keep picking things up, avoiding the poor guy’s face because I know I just weirded out on him for sounding so much like Jyeon. It feels shitty to have his voice ingrained in my head, and I’m so lost in my thoughts that I fail to see he’s not moving anymore. Breadsticks in one hand, yet he’s holding them in mid-air without handing them to me.
I spot them as I scoop most onto my tray in a haphazard manner and move to take them from him when a lightning bolt strikes me out of the blue.
“Sohla?” A breathy, almost non-existent question aimed right at my face, and my world comes crashing down around my ears. As though my brain stammers, and I flinch at the shock of hearing it after so long.
My head snap reaction brings my eyes to a set of wide-open, startled, and familiar dark browns, locked on me as though he’s unable to blink. Set in a face that still haunts my dreams most nights for a million different reasons. I don’t know which of us is in the worst state of disbelief because it feels close to both. My body turns to liquid at being three inches away from the man I never wanted to see again, and my hands start to tremble, swallowing hard as my insides crumble.
“It’s…… it’s really you?... Sohla….” He’s breathy, obviously in a state of shock, and staring at me like he can’t process it. Still kneeling here in the middle of my crowded restaurant, it’s like we’re caught in a bubble where noise and the presence of others have faded away. Oblivious to our surroundings. His eyebrow twitches, and pupils dart from one of mine to the other in quick succession. He has the shocked, stiff, and gawping of a man who’s just seen a ghost and doesn’t know how to react. It’s obvious he’s having a hard time taking this in and believing what he sees, and I thankfully pull my head out of my ass quicker than he does. Knowing my life might depend on my ability to get out of this fast.
“Anna… My name’s Anna. Anna Tarry.” I scoot up to standing fast, getting away from him as his aftershave follows and near suffocates me with his unchangeable scent and memories. He hasn’t changed it in all these years, and it’s like I’m transported back to a time when he used to get close enough for me to live in that smell. It used to be a source of comfort, and now it causes acute agony.
His eyes follow me, and he, too, scrambles to his feet awkwardly, sticking close, his breathing labored, and his skin pale from what I guess is a reaction to seeing a dead wife, and I curse myself for getting caught this way. Never in a million years would I think he, of all people, would walk in here. He must have come from one of the boats. Jyeon never used to do anything like that, and it hurts me in my heart to know his life has changed dramatically if he now takes time to go on vacations and hang out with his friends. It’s like me being gone was for the best.
“Soh……. Ummm, I’m sorry. I just……. You look so much like… You really look like her.” he’s having trouble formulating words, and the loud happy chorus of men chatting among themselves while being boisterous makes me cringe as I pick out familiar voices behind him. They must be the group of six Greta was talking about, and my hands start to sweat while nausea swirls up and suffocates me. I hear Bryant and Avery among them all, and I step backward, aware this will get messier if I don’t move. The internal flight or fight taking over and telling me to run far away.
“So, your starters won’t be long. I’ll take this and clean it up if you want to head back to your table, sir.” I force the local dialect and keep my voice upbeat and friendly, acting like I don’t know him and ignoring what he says. Being flippant and breezy. Pulling out the acting ability I used to rely on to get through my feelingless life and hating that I can’t do it the same way quite so well anymore. I turn on my heel to walk away, with my heart hammering through my chest at a hundred miles an hour, and know this will be brutal not to look back.
“Wait… Sohla, wait.” He catches me by the wrist, tone strained, instantly frantic to keep me by him, and my stomach lurches into my mouth with the familiar touch of his skin on mine. A touch that ruins my composure and makes me hate the human body’s ability to remember things like this. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been; it’s right back to the past with one little touch. Warming my skin, tingling, and catapulting butterflies through my internal organs.
Using my willpower, I slide free from his touch, keeping my face straight and not outwardly reacting, and force all my strength to hold my voice steady.
“I’m sorry, sir, I told you… my name is Anna. I don’t know anyone called Sohla. I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.” I make my accent heavy and thick and try to mimic Amber’s lazy way of talking to throw him off. Pained by the desperation in his expression and the moisture that seems to be filling his eyes. The way he tenses his jaw to keep his emotions under wraps. His reaction feels like being sucker-punched because I don’t expect it, and I have never seen him like this in relation to me in a long, long time. If I didn’t know better, he seems like he’s had a hard time while I wasn’t there. That he so achingly wants me to be Sohla.
“You live here? I mean….. for how long? Is this where you’re from?” He doesn’t seem to want to believe me. The questions flow out as he grabs hold of some sanity again, and I curse him inwardly for not letting it go. His eyes rake my face, searching for signs of the woman he knew. I can see it, knowing him so well. It hurts my heart to see him this way when I know the reality is that it’s probably shock and nothing more profound. He wanted me gone, and I need to remind myself of that. He even played a massive part in making me so.
I can’t believe that Jyeon, of all people, is standing here in our place, and I try and edge away, pasting a smile on my face. Physically I don’t know how I’m still standing and holding all this in because my limbs turn to flimsy paper. It’s taking everything inside me, and I’m not sure I can keep it up if he follows me again.
“Her whole life, she’s my sister. Is there a problem?” Greta’s voice seeps in, and I exhale with relief as she appears next to me. Balancing plates of scallop starters and eyeing him like he’s a threat. I can see how she looks him over from head to toe, and I know she’s seen only vague images of him a long time ago on the internet and probably didn’t click at all that it’s Jyeon when they came in here. She wouldn’t expect it either.
Jyeon looks to her, then me, his brow lowering in confusion as he appraises us side by side, as her words filter through. There’s a definite crumbling expression of crushed hope and disappointment, and he looks away as though trying to compose himself. He swallows hard, inhales a couple of times, slowly turns back, and stares me dead in the eye once more.
“I’m sorry, Miss…… Anna.” He reads my name badge as though trying to confirm it for himself. “Mistaken identity. I apologize for weirding you out. You look so much like someone I lost. I’m sorry.” He gives me a slight nod to apologize and doesn’t move away from me. He seems rooted to the spot, so I go instead. Not able to take any more of this, and my face is aching with keeping it blank. I turn on my heel and walk away towards the stairs while breaking the urge to speed up or run, or it might look suspicious. Leaving Greta with him and acting like I’m not phased at all.
My legs are shaking, my hands are icy cold, and it feels as though I just got hit by a train with the way my emotions are crashing about inside of me. I’m shaking and letting out my breath as I scale the stairs and cling to the rail, so I don’t fall as my body gives up on me.
He’s still as gorgeous as I remember and deadly to my weak soul. Smooth, well-spoken, and mature. Dressed nicely and emanating that particular type of charm he always had. It’s more than wealth and a good education; it’s something stable and warm about him that used to feel like safety to me. Familiarity. Jyeon’s always been of another league compared to most men.
I hate that one little sighting brings it all bubbling up inside me, just how much I missed him all this time. How much it still hurts. How badly and deeply. How, when I should hate him and be afraid of him, all I see is the man I love … even still ….. and it messes with my head.