hands like they were directing the plane traffic on a tarmac. All that was missing were those orange lights and headphones.
“It’s nice,” Pete murmured. Louder, he said, “Give ‘em a break. It’s the first time they’re seeing you after the last deployment. They’re glad to see your ugly mug is still attached to your worthless body.”
“Yeah, but it’s embarrassing.” Then without another word, he hopped off the bottom step of the escalator and sprinted to his parents, rucksack bouncing on his back, nearly knocking them over as he enveloped them in a hug.
“Embarrassing, huh?” Pete laughed to himself.
He hung back, not wanting to spoil the happy family moment. But he was taken by surprise when Mrs. Miller slipped around her son and came to give him a sweet embrace of her own, whispering, “I’m so glad you’re safe,” in his ear before releasing him. Then Tony’s father stepped in with a handshake and a back slap, thanking him for coming along.
Pete floated through life without a worry, enjoying the lack of familial responsibility, the duty to return home every so often to prove his love. But at that moment, he felt a ball in his throat, keenly aware of what he was missing without a family. He swallowed it down and forced out, “Thanks for having me.”
Mr. Miller tossed an arm around each of them and walked toward the luggage carousel. “Let’s go get your bags, boys and then head out for some good grub. Bet you’re starving.”
* * * * *
Sarah Donovan Cassidy bumped her hip against the cash register and watched it slide shut while she grabbed the next drink ticket. Bartending was never about how to pour a good beer. It was about having an open ear and the ability to multi-task…usually in that order.
Unfortunately she’d been hopeless at both when she first came in, begging for a job. Her worthless, cheating, delusional husband had dumped her and taken off to finish his “rock star tour”. In reality it was one step up from a traveling karaoke group. But at nineteen, Sarah had seen only a hot guy with a guitar and a way out of the state. She’d followed him like a puppy, married him in some courthouse in Ohio and turned a blind eye to his infidelities. First she told herself it was because he was a god with a guitar and it was natural for women to want that. A man’s resistance was only so good.
God, that made her want to vomit now. How could she have ever been so weak? She wised up quickly and told herself to hold on as long as she could to save cash and make it on her own.
“Sarah, can you take this drink order to table seventeen? I’m seriously behind on my chores,” a server asked in passing. Poor guy. Brand new and still five steps behind everyone else. She nodded and began to put the glasses she’d set out for runners onto a tray. Whenever possible, she helped the new servers. She’d been the new kid once too.
Her husband’s band played some open mic night show at Buffalo’s and then ditched her with both the tab at the restaurant and the hotel bill. The debt set her way back in the plan for independence. He’d moved on without her. Sick of having a wife cramp his style, no doubt. She had begged—for the first time in her life—for a job from Buffalo’s manager. For whatever reason, he took pity on her and gave her a shot.
Sarah hefted the tray over her head, using muscles honed from long years on the job. She was agile as a cat now with a drink tray. It made her laugh to think how clumsy she’d been back in the day.
Sarah probably cost the place more in broken glass that first week than she made in tips. But with some kind words and patient regulars, she caught on quickly. Nothing quite like the threat of not eating that week to help the learning process.
She’d been twenty-one when she started working at Buffalo’s and four years later she’d been offered a job as a manager. But she was content as head bartender. More responsibilities weren’t her
“It’s nice,” Pete murmured. Louder, he said, “Give ‘em a break. It’s the first time they’re seeing you after the last deployment. They’re glad to see your ugly mug is still attached to your worthless body.”
“Yeah, but it’s embarrassing.” Then without another word, he hopped off the bottom step of the escalator and sprinted to his parents, rucksack bouncing on his back, nearly knocking them over as he enveloped them in a hug.
“Embarrassing, huh?” Pete laughed to himself.
He hung back, not wanting to spoil the happy family moment. But he was taken by surprise when Mrs. Miller slipped around her son and came to give him a sweet embrace of her own, whispering, “I’m so glad you’re safe,” in his ear before releasing him. Then Tony’s father stepped in with a handshake and a back slap, thanking him for coming along.
Pete floated through life without a worry, enjoying the lack of familial responsibility, the duty to return home every so often to prove his love. But at that moment, he felt a ball in his throat, keenly aware of what he was missing without a family. He swallowed it down and forced out, “Thanks for having me.”
Mr. Miller tossed an arm around each of them and walked toward the luggage carousel. “Let’s go get your bags, boys and then head out for some good grub. Bet you’re starving.”
* * * * *
Sarah Donovan Cassidy bumped her hip against the cash register and watched it slide shut while she grabbed the next drink ticket. Bartending was never about how to pour a good beer. It was about having an open ear and the ability to multi-task…usually in that order.
Unfortunately she’d been hopeless at both when she first came in, begging for a job. Her worthless, cheating, delusional husband had dumped her and taken off to finish his “rock star tour”. In reality it was one step up from a traveling karaoke group. But at nineteen, Sarah had seen only a hot guy with a guitar and a way out of the state. She’d followed him like a puppy, married him in some courthouse in Ohio and turned a blind eye to his infidelities. First she told herself it was because he was a god with a guitar and it was natural for women to want that. A man’s resistance was only so good.
God, that made her want to vomit now. How could she have ever been so weak? She wised up quickly and told herself to hold on as long as she could to save cash and make it on her own.
“Sarah, can you take this drink order to table seventeen? I’m seriously behind on my chores,” a server asked in passing. Poor guy. Brand new and still five steps behind everyone else. She nodded and began to put the glasses she’d set out for runners onto a tray. Whenever possible, she helped the new servers. She’d been the new kid once too.
Her husband’s band played some open mic night show at Buffalo’s and then ditched her with both the tab at the restaurant and the hotel bill. The debt set her way back in the plan for independence. He’d moved on without her. Sick of having a wife cramp his style, no doubt. She had begged—for the first time in her life—for a job from Buffalo’s manager. For whatever reason, he took pity on her and gave her a shot.
Sarah hefted the tray over her head, using muscles honed from long years on the job. She was agile as a cat now with a drink tray. It made her laugh to think how clumsy she’d been back in the day.
Sarah probably cost the place more in broken glass that first week than she made in tips. But with some kind words and patient regulars, she caught on quickly. Nothing quite like the threat of not eating that week to help the learning process.
She’d been twenty-one when she started working at Buffalo’s and four years later she’d been offered a job as a manager. But she was content as head bartender. More responsibilities weren’t her
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