April 2024 Short Story of the Month
Hannah
Hannah reviewed the menu one more time before confirming that night's specials. She shrugged and figured using the old stand by would be fine. It hadn't been featured in a while, and she wasn't feeling very creative at the moment. Perhaps she'd been doing this too long.
She didn't feel the same excitement that she used to when she'd set a new menu or try a new dish. She didn't really care anymore if the customers raved about her food. She set the menu, made sure the kitchen ran smoothly, or as smoothly as it could, and she went about her day without giving it much thought.
Tonight would be blackened chicken, fried plantains, black beans, and white rice.
She entered the information in the computer, which checked the recipes against the food inventory. There were no issues. She checked her email. Nothing of note there. She had a meeting with the owner in ten minutes, so she tried to kill a little time by thinking about tomorrow's menu. All she needed to pick were the specials again. The seasonal main menu had been set months ago.
She hadn't decided in the ten minutes, and there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," she said.
The owner of the restaurant walked in and plopped in one of the chairs across from Hannah's desk.
"You okay, Joe?" Hannah asked. If she had to guess, something was wrong. Joe was usually very carefree and walked around with a permanent smile plastered across his face. The plop into the chair alone was a sign something was off.
"It's not important." Joe waved a hand in front of his face as if he was brushing away a cobweb.
"You sure?" asked Hannah.
"Yeah. It's not restaurant related. It's marriage stuff." Joe shrugged.
"Ah. I see," said Hannah. "Not really my area."
"Yeah, don't worry about it." Joe sighed. "So, let's talk restaurant. I need a distraction."
"Okay." Hannah tried to smile and convey sympathy, but she really was the last person to discuss marriage troubles with. She'd never had a long-term relationship as an adult. Her job was her life. The only long-term relationship she'd ever had was with her cast iron skillet and her knives.
They talked for the next couple of hours about all the important things they needed to, but honestly the whole conversation also felt routine. Nothing Earth shattering was discussed, and no major changes or decisions were needed. The restaurant was established enough that it was running smoothly by this point.
Charlie
While Hannah and Joe had their meeting, Charlie arrived at the restaurant and started prepping anything that needed prepped for that night's shift. Charlie basically ran the kitchen because Hannah seemed like she wanted less and less to do with the actual kitchen.
Charlie looked over the menu and tackled the items she knew Hannah was more particular about. As she was chopping some summer squash, her phone rang. She tried to ignore it. She didn't like to deal with personal drama while she was at work.
The ringing stopped. Charlie let out an audible sigh even though she was the only one around to hear it.
She kept chopping, getting lost in the rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the cutting board. She quickly chopped all the squash she needed to. She went to the fridge to get something else to prep when her pocket started buzzing again.
She glanced around the kitchen and could see Hannah and Joe still talking. No one else had arrived yet. She didn't want to stop the prep, but she needed the phone to stop buzzing. She knew who would be on the other end without even taking it out of her pocket.
She went to the opposite side of the kitchen away from the office door. She looked at the screen and took a deep breath before she pressed answer.
"Tony, you have to stop calling me. I'm at work," she said. She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt.
"I just want us to talk about this," Tony said. "I think you're overreacting."
"I'm not overreacting," Charlie responded trying not to let her voice become shrill. She didn't want to draw attention from the office.
"Charlie, we've been together for too many years to let this break us up," said Tony.
Charlie rubbed her forehead. She didn't want to have this argument again, and she definitely didn't want to have it right now. "Tony, this is really something we can compromise on. It's either a yes or a no, and for me, it's a no."
"You don't know that for sure," said Tony. "You might change your mind."
"I don't appreciate you thinking you will somehow magically change my mind about this. I don't want kids, and if you do, or might, we shouldn't be together. It's that simple." Charlie had already said these exact things to him this morning, last night, and yesterday afternoon when the argument had started. "Tony, Tony. Please stop." She hadn't heard his response, but she didn't really want to keep arguing in circles. "I don't have time for this now. I'm at work." She didn't usually give in to the drama, but she hung up on him.
"Everything okay?" asked Hannah.
Charlie turned around. She sighed. "Drama. Don't worry about it. I'm turning off my phone now." She made a point to press the off button and shut the phone all the way down before putting it back in her pocket.
"You need some help out here," offered Hannah.
"Sure, you and Joe done talking? I don't want to interrupt. I can handle it out here." Charlie was surprised that Hannah was offering.
"We're done. It's all good." Hannah started chopping veggies and humming to herself.
Charlie hadn't seen her like this in a while, and a happy chef was rare. Charlie was going to ask but decided not to jinx it.
As they went about working, others arrived and joined in the routine prep for the night. As the kitchen filled up, everyone settled into their routines and things were underway without any drama or hiccups.
Morrison
Morrison was late. Again. This time he might actually get fired. He went quietly through the back door at the restaurant. He stopped at the lockers and changed into his uniform. He double checked that he didn't have any stains on his apron and tied it in a double knot in the front.
He stopped on one side of the door to the kitchen to listen. He was trying to discern where Hannah or Charlie was before he stepped in. They would be furious at him.
He didn't hear his name, which was a good sign. He took a deep breath before he pushed the door open.
As he stepped into the kitchen, no one even looked up from what they were doing. Everyone just continued chopping, stirring, sorting, and all the other tasks for the night.
He went over to his normal station and started prepping his area. He was in charge of getting some of the meat dishes started. Some of the dishes cooked low and slow. The prime rib should have already been in the oven, but it was going to be late that night. Hopefully none of the first customers ordered it.
He got to work and acted like he'd been there the whole time. It was his third day in a row being late this week, and his seventh time in as little as two weeks. He needed to get his act together.
Charlie walked behind him and patted him on the shoulder.
"We'll talk later," she whispered as she walked past.
He knew he wasn't lucky enough for it to go unnoticed, but he hoped he wouldn't get fired. He needed this job.
He'd only been late all those days because he was having trouble leaving his apartment. His wife and son were struggling. Both were sick.
And today had been another day at the doctor's office, which meant he'd been late again, and more bills that he couldn't afford to pay.
He tried not to think about it while he was cooking. He worked through his prep list and tried not to think about his wife, not think about his son, not think about bills, not think about his own rotten luck.
Hannah, Charlie, and Morrison
Hannah poured them each a glass of wine. Hannah and Charlie both sipped theirs. Morrison didn't even pick his up. He felt like it was a trick. They were just softening the blow before they fired him.
"Tell me what's going on, Morrison," said Hannah. She knew something was wrong, something that he hadn't told them yet. He wasn't acting like himself. He'd been working here for four years and had never been late until the last two weeks.
Charlie pushed the wine glass towards him. "Tell us what's going with you."
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