A Special Relationship by Yvonne Thomas

asked her, but she was gone before Carrie could answer.
      Alphonso, the manager, came into the kitchen holding two drinks he’d just picked up from the bar, and he called for Carrie.   Carrie, always the diligent worker, hurried to his side.   “Take these drinks to table twelve,” he told her.   “Take their order, but then I need you to go and clear off for Lizzie.   She’s backed up big time.”
      “Yes, sir,” Carrie said as she grabbed the two cocktails, placed them on a tray, and then hurried out of the kitchen.   Her plan was to avoid Robert’s presence as much as possible, even if it meant walking in an around-about way to get to where she was going.   But when she realized who was actually sitting at table twelve, she stopped in her tracks, causing another waitress to just miss bumping into her.   
      The female was doing all of the talking, Carrie noticed, while Robert seemed to be only mildly listening.   His mind seemed somewhere else, as if at any moment he was going to glance at his watch and suddenly excuse himself.   But when he looked toward the kitchen area, and ended up looking directly into Carrie’s face, her heart pounded once again, and any composure she thought she was gaining by stopping before proceeding, was shattered.
      Robert’s chest tightened when he looked into those big green eyes again.   They weren’t as terror-filled as they had been when he first saw her, but there was still that sadness there.
      Carrie garnered enough nerve to walk up to the table and began placing down the drinks.   She even managed to smile.    “Here we are,” she said as she sat down one then the other drink.   She decided against asking Robert if he remembered her, since chances were he hadn’t even given her a second thought.   Besides, his wife would probably not appreciate the inquiry in any event.
      Tyler was still talking to Robert, her mouth going a mile a minute, so Carrie pulled out her pad and waited patiently for her to finish.   Tyler, however, suddenly stopped talking and looked at this woman, this intruder at their table.   And she wasn’t even attempting to hide her displeasure.    “May we help you?” she asked.
      Carrie nervously tucked a few strands of her bob-styled hair behind her small ear before she spoke.   Robert exhaled.
      “Yes, ma’am,” she said so nervously that she then cleared her throat.   “I was waiting to take your orders.”
      “Then why didn’t you say that?   You don’t just stand here getting all into our business like this.”
      Robert looked at Tyler, who had a reputation for being disrespectful to service workers.   It always bothered him, but never to this degree.   “Let’s just order,” he said.
      “No, now Robert, this is important.   I want to know why she felt some grand need to just stand here hovering over us like—”
      “That’s enough, Ty,” he said firmly.  
      Tyler stared at him as if she wanted to fire back.   “Anyway,” she said, knowing not to push Robert too far or he’d leave her in a heartbeat.   “What are we ordering?” she asked him.  
      Carrie looked at Robert too, but as soon as his gray eyes so much as glanced her way, her heart fluttered.   What was it about this man, she wondered, that caused her to have all of these crazy kinds of feelings every time he just looked at her?   Yes, he was impressive.   Yes, he was unbelievably handsome.   Yes, he was a kind, respectful, good Christian man.   But so what?   He wasn’t even available, and even if he was there was no way, Carrie knew, that she could even see herself with some white guy like him.
      “We’ll have the baked Tilapia, both with baked potatoes,” he said.
      “Butter and sour cream?” Carrie asked, writing intently to avoid looking at him again.
      “Yes.”
      “Salad, cole slaw, or mashed potatoes?”
      “Salads.”
      “Dressing?”
      “Ranch.”
      “For both?”