Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: GLUTTONY (overindulgence and overconsumption) (01/15/15)
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TITLE: Check, Please! | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jennifer Champion
01/21/15 -
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ADD TO MY FAVORITES
I am just hungry.
The yellow cloth barely covers the two tables my sweet waitress put together for me. I believe her name is Marlene. What a sweetie! She was confused at first when I requested an additional table since it is only me but then I ordered my lunch and she understood.
“Yes,” I told her, “I would like the two appetizers and my salad now, please.”
She smiled, flipped her order pad to the next page and continued to write as I ordered.
“I’ll have the country fried steak with white gravy. I’d also like an order of catfish with tartar sauce. For my sides, I’ll have the squash casserole, mashed potatoes with brown gravy, turnip greens, and fried okra. I’d like two corn sticks and one yeast roll with honey butter. Oh, and I’d like a sliced tomato and fresh onion, too.” For Marlene, my order would have normally fed two or three people but for now, it will satisfy only me.
I am just hungry.
The clink of my spoon stirring the three sugar packets I poured in my already sweet iced tea grabs the attention of a statuesque man sitting at a booth across the room. He is a pleasure to look at with all his wavy brown hair and smooth skin. His red t-shirt molds perfectly to the contours of his muscular arms and chest. Darn! He is now uncomfortable because I caught him looking at me and now all I can do is look at him, for reasons much different I am sure. Needless to say, he is now staring directly at his freshly served plate of Cobb salad and probably hoping I am not looking at him anymore.
I am just hungry.
Upon the arrival of my fried mozzarella cheese sticks, Buffalo wings and garden salad, I notice a little red headed girl no more than five years old looking at me now. She is having a sensible lunch with her father and his new girlfriend whose rear end is probably no bigger than a grain of salt. Her father touches her tiny freckled arm and shakes his head letting her know that it is not nice to stare. Then, he offers to me a polite yet condescending smile.
Marlene and a helper reappear with my feast on two trays. They sit it all in front of me along with a bottle of pepper sauce and Tabasco and quietly asks, “Do you need anything else?”
I smile and roll up my sleeves. I place my napkin on my chest since it seems to be the catch-all for whatever I ingest. Then, with a wink, I say, “In fifteen minutes come on back with a slice of chocolate lava cake, vanilla bean ice cream with caramel sauce and a hot cup of coffee with five creamers.”
They fold up their canvas and plastic serving tables and retreat to the kitchen with order in hand. I hear the woman at the table behind me chuckle and tell her friend I am a pig. I am not a pig.
I am just hungry.
Thirty minutes later as I scrape the last of the caramel sauce from the plate, I see Marlene looking at me from the server’s line. I throw up my hand and say, “Check, please.” She comes to my table with her black poly-vinyl pay folder and sets it on the table. Then, she does something I am not prepared for at all; Marlene sits down in the chair across the table from me.
She is about forty five if I had to guess and by the lines on her face, she has lived a hard life. She smiles and reaches out to hold both my hands in hers.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“You ate an awful lot of food and I want to pray with you if that is okay.” Marlene told me in the most direct and polite fashion.
“I am just hungry.” I tell her.
“I believe you are hungry for much more than food.” Marlene says.
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