I walk behind the counter to prepare Sam's order. One large cream coffee, and a coupon, for later. Something in my gut tells me I might never see his face again. He's just not the type to come dine at Blue's often.
I stare at the small rectangular piece of paper in my hand. It looks like the typical thing you'd find in the pocket of jeans you haven't worn in years. The thing you keep in your pocket to try to remember, but you always end up forgetting. How wasteful. Yet it reminds me of something, or more like someone. But let's not get into that right now.
I'm jerked from my thoughts as the sound of boiling water rips through the almost silence, which was disturbed only by a light voice, singing a song that everyone seems to know, yet nobody recalls where from.
I quickly reach the boiling pot, pour it into the mixture.
"You seem distracted" Alicia points.
"No, I'm just tired" I answer quickly, without thinking about it. At this point, it's become a default answer.
"Mhm, yeah, okay" She grits, unconvinced. I'm glad she doesn't press on it.
I prepare everything, except the coupon. I stride to the table, and hastily put the order on there. He gives me a small nod mixed with a smile. I smile back.
I need to prepare that coupon. It's not that hard. It's really just a name, on a paper. I also need to mark it, for the first visit. The paper still sits on the counter, untouched. I feel like it's waiting, staring at me. To be honest, I haven't done this before. No one's been interested until now. I don't know why, I feel if I fill this coupon, something will happen. Something bad, or something good. I'm not certain. My gut never likes being clear with me. It just says:
"Be very thoughtful about what you're about to do. Something important is at stake".
"Well great," I say every time, "Care to elaborate?"
"Nah, don't want to" It answers back.
Well, it's just a coupon. I should just do it. It is my job after all.
I take a pen with me and step to the coupon. In hesitation, I twirl it just the once around my fingers, before manually forcing myself to write the three letters that compose the name of the young man a few feet away from me. I quickly glance at him. He's sipping his coffee, his face scrunched up. I look back down at the coupon.
S...A...M...
There we are, why did I freak out? It wasn't so bad anyway.
I release a breath I didn't know I was holding. I put a hole through the small paper, and swiftly deliver it to the table.
Sam looks up, smiling once again.
I smile back, of course.
I always do.
Who am I if I don't smile back every time a stranger grants me a glance? When you're in my position in life, the only thing you have is being a nice, polite person. And I'm not sure I'm even that. I don't understand the people that do things just out of the goodness of their hearts. Doesn't everyone have a benefit in everything they do? Even if it is just for the smile on the receiving end's face, it is still not out of pure kindness. People help others to be happy themselves, to feel something tingle inside of them. To fill the void that haunts them their entire lives. Others do it for the recognition, the credit. Imagine doing something genuine just for the spotlight, the sheer feeling of being seen as the good person you pose as, because you're that of an empty shell, not able to live without others thinking you're a kind spawn, when you're not even able to do something remotely right, without the credit of having done it.
I'm neither of those two. I'm kind because I can't be anything else. If I'm not pleasant, I'm nothing. I have no personality, no talent, no skill. I have nothing but my ability to be a decent person. To be polite, respectful, considerate. But I force myself to do it. No matter how deep I dig, I still cannot find a single ounce of genuine inside. Being good is an ability of mine, not a quality. I'm able to be pleasant, but I'm not. I don't know what I am. Without my façade, I'm nothing, no one. That's what this all is. A façade.
Maybe I should just drop it. Maybe if I do, then I'll find who I really am. I've never gotten the chance to let my real self out. Maybe that's why I haven't found a thing I'm good at. Yet alone passionate about. Maybe one day I'll see my own real side. Maybe one day I'll get to be truthful about my qualities in job interviews. Maybe one day I'll learn about my so called dream job. Maybe one day after that I'll do it.
Maybe.
Well, this maybe is for sure not in the near future. Not soon. I want this, but not right now. I'm not ready. I might sound like I don't like it - and I don't- but I'm not ready to let it go. It's all I know. It's all I'm familiar -or better yet- comfortable with.
-
Sam pays and rushes out with long strides. After I gave him the coupon, he barely uttered a word. I guess he was just focused on whatever he was doing. Who even strikes up a conversation with a random waitress in a worthless diner while being there only to work on some university project or assignment?
All the while, Alicia kept making funny faces at me every time I looked in his direction a fraction of a second longer than I should've.
Whatever. I'm pretty sure I'll never see that man again so what's the point.
-
I saw that man twice again in the same week.
I never could've been more wrong.