"So that's one shepherd's pie, one portion of chips, a diet coke, one cheese and ham panini with a green salad and a glass of water?" I asked in confirmation with a fake smile on my face to the man and woman seated in front of me.
"Yep, that's all." The man replied, handing me his menu before turning back to who I assumed was his partner.
With one last strained smile, I made my way through the row of tables and customers scattered across the cafe, nodding my head and smiling at those I had seen before, until I reached the opened window at the far back that led to the kitchen.
"Derek! One shepherd's pie, one portion of chips, one cheese and ham panini and one green salad." I shouted while placing the written ticket with the other orders that were still being prepared.
"Got it kid." Derek, the main chef at Tops's cafe, echoed back as he emerged from the hidden right-hand side of the kitchen.
Derek was an older man, not nearly as old as Eileen, mind you, but still in his mid-fifties, not that you could tell by looking at him. He stood at around six feet and three inches, with more muscle on one arm than I had in my entire body, with every inch of his dark skin covered in a multitude of tattoos of all different shapes and designs. Tattoos he said he had acquired during his long career in the navy. The only exception was the smooth, bald surface of his head that was currently hidden underneath a hairnet, something I constantly joked with him about wearing.
When I first started working here a month prior and had met Derek, I assumed from his appearance that he was a man of few words, stern and cold, just like my father. Thankfully, I was swiftly proven wrong when, upon introducing myself, he proceeded to slap me forcefully on the back with a grin plastered on his face, wishing me good luck as I stumbled forward. Ever since, Derek had helped me more times than I could truly count, second only to Eileen herself, and boy did I need a lot of help. I still remembered my first day at the cafe; one second, it had been calm and relaxed, the next, it became frenzied and disorganised, with customers flowing through the door at a rapid pace. Derek still loved to laugh at the comical look of horror on my face as I experienced my first rush hour.
Suddenly, I heard the familiar ring of the door. A noise that I was starting to despise more and more with each passing day. It's high-pitched wail grating on my last few nerves. I quickly rushed back to the front just as the new customers found themselves a seat and took their order. The day continued in a similar, monotonous fashion, constantly taking and serving orders with the fakest and cheeriest voice I could manage, until finally the clock high up on the wall announced it was five o'clock and I was thankfully done for the day.
The moment the clock struck five, I immediately left the front of the cafe and rushed to the staff room located in the back, grabbing my backpack and wanting to escape as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, it seemed I wasn't quick enough, as just as I had grabbed my backpack, a loud cough resounded from behind me. I immediately jumped in surprise, banging my head against the inside of my locker, forcing out a long groan in pain as I slowly turned towards Eileen with a scowl.
"Oh quit ya groanin' ya baby. I swear I've seen mice less twitchy than you," Eileen muttered, a small feral grin plastered on her face showing just how much amusement she found in scaring the ever loving shit out of me. "I just came in to ask ya if you wanted to do any extra shifts next week."
"No, I think I should be alright." I muttered, rubbing the back of my head.
"Alright. If ya change ya mind howeve', just let me know. Ya know ya can always talk to me." Her tone turned slightly sombre as she spoke, her eyes quickly glistening with tears before she abruptly exited the staff room, leaving me once again alone and reminding me of how she had first reacted upon hearing the news of my fate.
After the fight I had with my Dad and the second night out with Clark and the others, I realised, since I was going to die, that I might as well spend the rest of my limited life just having fun. However, the problem with such a decision was that I simply didn't have the money for such a lifestyle. That was when I remembered the offer Eileen had made, that if I was ever in need of help, I could go to her. When I did, I thought she was going to smack me right then and there, hearing that I was planning on quitting school to work instead. Even when I told her I had reasons, she still didn't budge, adamant on knowing what they were if she was going to help me. Suffice it to say, the moment she heard about my condition, she hired me on the spot, something I was beyond thankful for.
Snapping out of my memories and returning to the present, I quickly grabbed the rest of my stuff from my locker before I left the cafe, happy I wouldn't have to see it for two whole days, allowing me to enjoy my weekend. While walking down the busy high street, I opened up my phone to check the group chat and see where everyone wanted to meet up, despite already knowing it would be the exact same place we always ended up meeting at. As I did so, I ignored the missed calls from Sam that had accumulated during my shift and were appearing with more frequency and volume as the days went by.
I had still not spoken to Sam after the fight we had a month ago. However, around a week after our fight, Sam had started to try and get back in contact with me, sparingly at first, only a single message or call every few days asking for me to message him back. But as time went by and I still didn't respond, not knowing what exactly to say, the calls and messages became more and more frequent. Until it came to the point where I expected to see a missed call or message every time I checked my phone.
It also wasn't just Sam who I hadn't spoken to this past month; the same applied to Helen, who, besides a couple of texts over a month ago right after the fight, hadn't said a word. A fact that left me feeling melancholy, despite the hypocrisy of such a feeling, knowing I hadn't messaged her either. Every time I tried, just like with Sam, I would find myself not knowing what to say. I would simply stare blankly at the phone, trying to find the courage to profess my inner thoughts and feelings, until eventually giving up.