The brown envelope eased the exhaustion away. I bowed as I held it in my hand. A hand almost covered by band-aids. It did not matter anymore so long it kept putting food on the table.
I slipped it into the backpack and left the eatery. A small rundown restaurant crowded with abandoned buildings and derelicts. I put my hoodie on. The street man hiccupped and whipped his gaze off my face.
It was not that dangerous residing in the countryside neglected by the government. Anyone needed to have a strong stomach and sharp senses to avoid them.
I stepped on the concrete, steep stairs. The lights from the landlord's house were turned off. Nice. The rusty wooden door squeaked annoyingly. I stopped opening it halfway and fit my body into the gap.
"You came back late." I halted and nervously smiled at Grandma Vienna. She prodded the air with her cane, pointing it not to the person she was scolding, with her face on the sky. "You think I won't catch you, huh? So rebellious like his mom." I waited till she turned off the lights, ensuring she went to bed.
I scanned the house—no doors besides the entryway and a single window in the bedroom. Mom moved in her sleep and laid her back on it, lifting her chin to look at me.
I failed to come in like a ninja.
"Why are you still awake, mom? Have you eaten?" I took the bills from the drawer. Crossing my legs on the cold floor, I did not idle and computed the expenses, scribbling them down on the pad.
Clanked and rattled in the narrow kitchen, Mom put down the food on the table. I smiled in appreciation. "I told you. I ate dinner at work. You shouldn't save any cooked food, or they'll get spoiled."
"Then, eat it." Mom brought a glass of water as well, then returned to bed.
I plucked the piece of broccoli and chewed it—Frei's favorite vegetable. I looked at the picture frame hanging on the thin wall. Three look-alike faces; the mother, me, and the older daughter, who chose to live in the city despite the odds.
It had been a year since I ran away from school. The friends I lost along the way and the comfortable life I once took for granted. I crunched the paper I took on the pad. I hissed as I returned to the reality that the dues were written in it. Unfolding it, then flattened it with my palms.
"It's better this way, Louisa," I mumbled, cheering myself up till a faint smile formed on my remorseful lips. After taking a quick shower, I scooted over to the bed on the floor and snuggled at my mom's warmth. I could not see any solution how long we hid.
These past few nights, continually, as I closed my eyes. I visioned the dark tunnel underground as I crossed the chilly space with a bit of light coming from the moon along the wild, tall grass. My foot tapped on the black water that rose from the canal. A dream, perhaps. Even so, I could smell the familiar pungent scent stuffing my nostrils, the tapping sound of water as it waved under my shoes. The hand I tried to move while I never took my sight off the distant light.
"Two dim sums, one garlic rice!"
"Bring new plates here!"
"Aish, it never gets out of mouths," mumbled Rosita. She scooped a plate on the hollow sink and swung her hands vertically, reducing the water to come with her stride on the service section. "Louisa, fill the tableware!"
"On it!"
A dishwasher was my first job in an intersection bustling with blue-collar workers who worked at the biggest dump site, the small stores that kept the town with necessities such as clothing and food, and what was confounding were the delinquents. Rosita, the eatery owner, welcomed them with open arms. She was looking forward to serving them the most.
Rosita was a skinny woman. She had no brawns to fend off people wanting or born-disaster messing around in the 'Budgetarian Eatery.' Her ace was her cheap, delicious food that anybody, even a grumpy stray cat, could have. In this neglected town, helping each other survive seemed like a treasure more than gold.
"Blegh! This tastes like my shit!"
Here's one of those entitled thugs, a regular with piles of negatives to pay yet asking for a change.
His cloudy eyes darted at me. I sigh, coming to him. In no way he remembered my hands were not for making him the crap he liked to have.
I mean, was that how he always tasted them, so logically speaking, that was what he liked. He tutted, giving me the accusation I put something on his food.
"What did ya put in here, newbie?"
I was not exactly a newbie at work. Since I started my first day, I'd seen him for ten years. He tapped the table, calling my attention. "It's so bland! No salt! Soy sauce or, or-" The shaker thunked as Rosita placed it in the old man's view.
"Chili powder," she said, which Old man Rick nodded in delight as if he was presented a cake for his 80th birthday. That was his age alright, and he would keep getting snappier from then on. He gazed up. I cleared away my nature of describing people in my head. The clanks on his teeth as the spoon scraped on his mouth heightened. I casually rubbed my earlobe.
"This is what you need, kid. For strong bones and teeth, chili! Ya like to eat with me? Hey, Rosita! Serve this girl what I ordered! I still have a change!"
"I need to help in the kitchen. Enjoy," I replied, sauntering off. My body halted. It moved backward, taking the sudden pull on the lace of my apron. I quickly tugged it off him, frowning.
"What? Ya wanna get fired? I'm being nice to ya, and you're ignoring me too??" My feet leaped backward as my system followed the table grazed at the wooden floor. The old man's grip was on the edge of it. He then tossed it upside down.
The tableware shattered, crashed, and scattered all over. Old man Rick was breathing heavily, scanning what he had done.
"Look at this old man," uttered Rosita. She dusted the rice she was bathed on the shoulder. "Have you come to your right mind? Food is not something you can throw away in here."
The three male delinquents, eating at a random table, stood up. The old man cried, begging for forgiveness as they took him outside. I would not see the old man around again.
"Louisa, man the counter for a sec." I obliged. My eyes followed Rosita exiting the place. Coins thudded at the wooden surface. A man wearing a black cap; thus, I could not see what he looked like. A growing curly goatee would soon cover his pointy chin.
Slowly slid a thousand bucks at the rim of the counter and dropped them on the cash register.
"Thank you."
What the heck? I swiftly gathered his change, hid it on a folded paper made of a carton, then glid it on the counter.
He tilted up his chin, taking a glance at my face. He was a tall, lean man holing up in a thick coat. By the looks of the banknotes peeking in his pocket, he had ka-ching.
I controlled my urges not to check his shoes, or other people would wait for him outside. Weird, no sign of turning around. All the more, didn't he have a good sense of danger coming into this town? "Do you wanna order take-out?" He lowered his head more—no way to see his head anymore.
"Do you know where I can stay the night?"