CHAPTER ONE
“W here's my order for table nine?" I ask in the kitchen.
"Give me another thirty seconds, Lisa," the trainee answers. He's putting the final touch on a plate. When he's happy with the way he's nested the baby tomato in a tiny bouquet of pesto, he looks up at me and winks. "It's nice to have you back. How did the finals go?" he asks.
"It's nice to be back, too. Believe it or not, I find this lunch madness relaxing after two weeks of exams," I tell him. I realize I've not answered his question, but I'm not really sure how my finals went, and anyway, even if it's no longer the busiest time of the lunch service, it's still not the perfect moment to chat.
I bring the plates to table nine where a law professor is chatting with a man his age who's a partner in one of the most prestigious law firms of Manhattan. This is business as usual in this place. The restaurant is located between two law schools. The entire block is strictly office space rented out to law firms. It's no accident my boss called it The Law School.
I ask my two patrons if there is anything else that I can bring them, and just when they tell me they're all set, Lyv calls me. Her face is grim, which is unlike her. She looks mad or upset. It can't be with me because I've been away for two weeks, and I just came back today. She signals me to come to her office, and when I enter she asks me to sit down.
"Lisa, I'm so sorry," she says as she crouches in front of me and takes my hands in hers. I look into her big chestnut eyes and wonder what she's sorry about. Did she find out through her law school connections that I have flunked my year? No, it's too early—not enough time to grade our tests yet. Is she going to fire me? No, she always says I'm one of her best waitresses, and she'll be sad to see me graduate.
"I just got a call from the Point Lookout police," she says softly, holding my hands tighter. "It's your brother…" She stops for a second, shakes her head, and for one second I think I see tears pooling in her eyes.
Now I know it's got to be really bad because Lyv's tough. Lyv doesn't cry; no matter what happens, she always smiles like life's a stupid toothpaste commercial.
"You've got to go back to the dorm and pack a bag, then I'll drive you to LaGuardia. I've made a reservation for you on the four o'clock flight to Fort Lauderdale."
I try to process what she's implying, but part of my brain is refusing to do so.
My brother, David, is larger than life and indestructible. He can survive anything. First he went through army training, and then he graduated top of his class at the police academy. David can't be dead.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I don’t know, they didn’t give me any details,” Lyv whispers.
"I need to call my mother," I say. I'll speak to Mommy, she'll confirm that it's been a horrible mix-up, and we'll laugh about it. I try to free my hands from Lyv's to reach for the phone on her desk, but she doesn't let go.
"You won't be able to speak to her before you get home," Lyv says. "I understand the doctors have given her something to put her out for twenty-four hours." She pulls our hands to her chest and sighs. "I'm so, so sorry, Lisa."
There's a knock on the door. It's Megan. She's the evening shift manager. What she's doing here so early? Why is she holding my handbag and my raincoat?
Lyv goes over to her, and they speak in hushed tones while Lyv puts on her own coat. She comes back to me and makes me stand up. She dresses me like a child and takes my hand. While we walk through, there's a strange silence. They don't know what's happening, but the look on Lyv's face is such that no one says a word. For an instant I feel like the world is in slow motion around me, but this changes the second we leave the restaurant through the kitchen door and hit the street. Life in Manhattan never stops. There are people passing by, and there's loud traffic. Everything seems normal.
Lyv walks me to the dorm. Once we're
“W here's my order for table nine?" I ask in the kitchen.
"Give me another thirty seconds, Lisa," the trainee answers. He's putting the final touch on a plate. When he's happy with the way he's nested the baby tomato in a tiny bouquet of pesto, he looks up at me and winks. "It's nice to have you back. How did the finals go?" he asks.
"It's nice to be back, too. Believe it or not, I find this lunch madness relaxing after two weeks of exams," I tell him. I realize I've not answered his question, but I'm not really sure how my finals went, and anyway, even if it's no longer the busiest time of the lunch service, it's still not the perfect moment to chat.
I bring the plates to table nine where a law professor is chatting with a man his age who's a partner in one of the most prestigious law firms of Manhattan. This is business as usual in this place. The restaurant is located between two law schools. The entire block is strictly office space rented out to law firms. It's no accident my boss called it The Law School.
I ask my two patrons if there is anything else that I can bring them, and just when they tell me they're all set, Lyv calls me. Her face is grim, which is unlike her. She looks mad or upset. It can't be with me because I've been away for two weeks, and I just came back today. She signals me to come to her office, and when I enter she asks me to sit down.
"Lisa, I'm so sorry," she says as she crouches in front of me and takes my hands in hers. I look into her big chestnut eyes and wonder what she's sorry about. Did she find out through her law school connections that I have flunked my year? No, it's too early—not enough time to grade our tests yet. Is she going to fire me? No, she always says I'm one of her best waitresses, and she'll be sad to see me graduate.
"I just got a call from the Point Lookout police," she says softly, holding my hands tighter. "It's your brother…" She stops for a second, shakes her head, and for one second I think I see tears pooling in her eyes.
Now I know it's got to be really bad because Lyv's tough. Lyv doesn't cry; no matter what happens, she always smiles like life's a stupid toothpaste commercial.
"You've got to go back to the dorm and pack a bag, then I'll drive you to LaGuardia. I've made a reservation for you on the four o'clock flight to Fort Lauderdale."
I try to process what she's implying, but part of my brain is refusing to do so.
My brother, David, is larger than life and indestructible. He can survive anything. First he went through army training, and then he graduated top of his class at the police academy. David can't be dead.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I don’t know, they didn’t give me any details,” Lyv whispers.
"I need to call my mother," I say. I'll speak to Mommy, she'll confirm that it's been a horrible mix-up, and we'll laugh about it. I try to free my hands from Lyv's to reach for the phone on her desk, but she doesn't let go.
"You won't be able to speak to her before you get home," Lyv says. "I understand the doctors have given her something to put her out for twenty-four hours." She pulls our hands to her chest and sighs. "I'm so, so sorry, Lisa."
There's a knock on the door. It's Megan. She's the evening shift manager. What she's doing here so early? Why is she holding my handbag and my raincoat?
Lyv goes over to her, and they speak in hushed tones while Lyv puts on her own coat. She comes back to me and makes me stand up. She dresses me like a child and takes my hand. While we walk through, there's a strange silence. They don't know what's happening, but the look on Lyv's face is such that no one says a word. For an instant I feel like the world is in slow motion around me, but this changes the second we leave the restaurant through the kitchen door and hit the street. Life in Manhattan never stops. There are people passing by, and there's loud traffic. Everything seems normal.
Lyv walks me to the dorm. Once we're
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