tables, adjust the seating, and shine the glasses.
The work is a nice distraction and helps me to
forget about what I’ve got to do in the next few
months and years. Worrying about what’s going to
happen makes me nervous and the bile goes
straight to my throat. The retching starts right on
time, forcing me to run to the bathroom in back
where Aaron and Jay are loading the fridge.
I close the door behind me and kneel down and
allow my stomach to empty what little it contains.
We’re just at the beginning of my pregnancy and I
have no idea how all this is going to go.
I rinse my mouth out and splash my face with
cool water before looking at myself in the mirror:
not my best look. I’m starting to wonder if I’m
going to make it through this evening.
Then I open the door and find myself in front of
two guys with their arms crossed across their
chests.
I swallow with great difficulty and hope they
haven’t understood anything, that they don’t tell
me to go away and not come back to work because
I might puke on the customers.
“Everything okay?” Aaron asks.
I nod and lower my glance and start fidgeting
with my hands.
“Maybe you shouldn’t work tonight.”
‘I’m fine,” I say, side-stepping past them.
“I don’t think so,” Jay interrupts. “Your face
doesn’t lie.”
