Intense Desire

MELISSA

Hell!

I grumble mentally for the tenth time, feeling all the muscles of my body begging for rest. I feel my feet and legs ache from hours of standing and working.

I take a deep breath before meeting the next customers who have just arrived at the restaurant, put a forced smile on my face, and walk close to the table where a couple is settling. My curious eyes run over the person in front of me. The blonde woman is dressed in elegant clothes that I assume cost more than a month of my salary, which I think is a tremendous exaggeration given the simple environment around us.

“Good evening,” I say, handing the evening menu to the couple, who don’t even bother to look at me.

The middle-aged man rummages through the menu in silence, his light eyes shining, while the woman, perfectly made up, looks at him with a disgusted expression.

The restaurant where I have worked for only six months since I came from Brazil is simple. It is a decent job, though all work is. I try not to complain since there are people out there who have no place to sleep. The salary is little, but it helps to pay the bills for the apartment that I share with Maggie. The bad part is that my workload is very hard since Ralph, the restaurant owner, is having trouble hiring someone else.

“Have you chosen what you are going to order?” I ask, trying not to show anxiety about finishing my shift, which ends in two hours.

“Baby, I told you it wasn’t a good idea to come to this dump. There’s nothing to my liking here!” I want to roll my eyes when the petty woman shakes the menu in front of the man, who snorts.

“What did you want, Mary? Our car broke down in the middle of nowhere, and we need to wait for the damn tow truck to arrive. If you do not want to starve to death until we can leave, I recommend ordering something and stopping this nonsense!” he says in an angry tone before ordering the dish of the night. Grudgingly, the woman obeys and does the same.

While I write everything down and take the requests to the cook in the kitchen, I think about how I should have a life like that woman. Of course, I would not have the same behavior, but I wonder how my life would revolve around so much luxury to enjoy.

I spent my adolescence striving to learn the English language and understand how Americans live and act, all to be able to change countries and live my dreams, the first of which was to attend college, but even now, I have not succeeded.

The reality I’m living in is different from what I imagined when I was living in Brazil's interior of São Paulo with my mother, my sister, and my only niece.

“Hold on, Mel, it’s just a short time before the shift closes,” Tobias says, seeing the discomfort dominating my body.

“That’s what I want most, Toby!” I say, seeing my coworker smile when a yawn escapes my mouth.

I spend the last hours of work in automatic mode, and gradually, the last customers leave. With Tobias’s help, we clean the dirty tables and arrange everything for the next day. I change out of the social white shirt and black linen pants with the restaurant logo into my own clothes before saying goodbye to the rest of the few employees.

Damn!

Even with rain pouring heavily outside, I face the downpour and walk through the darkened streets. I curse myself internally for not bringing an umbrella, pull the hood of my jacket over my curls, and hurry along. The trip to the apartment is not long. I could have taken a ride, but with money short, I decided that braving the rain would save me greater expenses at the end of the month.

In the busy streets of Seattle, people walk quickly under their umbrellas, and cars honk at each other in the fog of the rainy night. I’m drenched but thank God when I’m just a few streets from home. With my backpack on my back, I quicken my pace when I see some men drinking near an alley. I hear whistles but ignore them and continue on.

“Come here, cutie, let us make your night more fun!” one of the men holding a bottle of some drink says, stepping in front of me. By reflex, I dodge him but bump into someone else instead.

The impact is so great that I’m thrown into a puddle of water on the ground. I’m wet, but now I’m soaked in the dirty puddle.

“Shit!” I grunt, annoyed, and soon see a hand outstretched to me. I raise my head, coming across a tall man dressed in a black overcoat that reaches up to his knees—the kind of clothes that rich American people usually wear.

“Are you blind? You didn’t see me in front of you, damn it?” I grumble, ignoring his help and standing up on my own.

“Sorry, lady. You’re small, and I didn’t see you. Got hurt?” he asks, but I shake my head before facing him. At night, I can only visualize his wet blonde hair. I also realize that he holds an umbrella.

I ignore the stranger and walk briskly back down the sidewalk, sighing in relief when I finally get to the apartment. I climb to our floor, and as soon as I enter, I find Maggie lying on the couch watching something on TV.

“My God, what happened to you, Mel?” she says, scanning my dirty clothes with her eyes.

“An idiot bumped into me, and I fell into a puddle,” I explain, leaving the backpack on the floor.

“I was not in the mood to cook, so I ordered a pizza for us, which should arrive at any time,” she lets me know, checking the timestamp on the phone on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Maggie. I’ll take a shower and then meet you here,” I say, going to my room.