The Bigger Picture

Emma marvelled at the knife’s blade as it sliced through the lime with ease. She wondered why she didn’t give it to the kitchen to sharpen earlier. She would have finished prepping this bucket of limes half an hour ago. She glanced at her watch. Only 11:30. How could she have only been here an hour? It felt like twelve.

The day bar shift at Savvy’s Kitchen and Bar wasn’t how she preferred to spend her Sunday’s, but with this month’s rent due in a few days, and Emma spending a bit too much last Friday night, she was forced to pick up the shift from her friend, Claire; it was never difficult to find a shift up for grabs on a Sunday at Savvy’s.

Laura, the general manager, came around the corner and stepped behind the bar.

“Hey, Emma. Your first table of the day is coming in. He’s just grabbing something from his car. I’m going to put him at table seventy-three. He wants a view of the sun today.”

Emma put the knife down before turning to answer Laura. She’s had a few close calls wielding that thing around during prep. She blamed it on the early mornings.

“Okay. Do you need me to bring him a menu?” Emma asked.

“No, it’s just Dean.” Laura turned around and Emma watched her walk back to the host stand to greet the next table.

She didn’t need anymore explanation than that. Dean was a regular at Savvy’s. He had been coming in everyday for lunch for the past eight years as far as she remembered. Emma has only worked at Savvy’s for four years and usually night shifts. She had only served Dean a few dozen times. Enough to know his name and that he comes by on his lunch breaks while running a fortune five-hundred company that he built from the ground up.

He always orders the same thing every day. A pint of Strongbow dry apple cider, and a chicken caesar salad. Sometimes he’ll mix it up and get different seasonings on the chicken, but he typically sticks to grilled. The servers usually have bets on which type of chicken he’ll order each day.

Dean waved at Emma as he walked over to table seventy-three. He was wearing a gray peacoat and had his white hair nicely coiffed today, but it wouldn’t be Dean without his thick-rimmed black glasses making an appearance. Emma had always thought he would look like such a silver fox if he ditched those glasses back in the nineteen seventies where they belong.

Dean draped his coat over the back of the chair and placed his laptop and tiny black notebook on the table. Emma began pouring his pint of Strongbow before his butt landed on the chair.

“Psst,” she heard a voice.

Emma placed the pint on the bar top and spun around. Jenn, who was serving in the dining room today was waving at her.

“What?” Emma said.

Jenn came closer. “I got lunch on cajun chicken for today. You want in on this?”

Emma would have loved to get in on the fun, but all she could do was picture her bank account tin her mind and had to give Jenn a sheepish nod. “Not this time.”

“Fine. Let me know.”

Emma gave her a thumbs up and grabbed a tray, placing the pint on it and walking over to Dean. “Afternoon, Dean,” she said in a very overly excited tone. “Nice to see you again, as always. Strongbow here for ya in case you get thirsty, and are we perhaps feeling peckish today?” The only thing Emma enjoyed about her job was purposely sounding like a lunatic because guys like Dean ate it up.

This was the part where Dean usually flashed his pearly whites, but there was no trace of them. He only shrugged and said, “I suppose. I’ll get my usual. Mango chicken today, though.”

Emma could mentally hear Jenn crying and she smirked. “Mango it is.” Emma turned from the table and shook her head a few times. That had to be the strangest encounter she ever had with Dean. It had been a while since she last served him, so maybe he just… changed? Emma decided not to poke at it and punched his order in on the screen, going back to her bucket of limes.

Every so often she would pause from slicing limes and glance at Dean. He seemed different today, but Emma couldn’t put her finger on how. He could be stressed out. Maybe his company was doing poorly. Emma realized she couldn’t ask him when she dropped off the bill since she didn’t even know what his company sold. For working at Savvy’s as long as she had, that was embarrassing to admit to their most frequent regular.

After not long, Dean gave his customary wave and Emma knew he was ready for the check. She printed and signed it before bringing it over.

Dean took the check in his hands, studying it. Emma had to resist an eyeroll; like he didn’t already have the totals memorized down to the penny at this point.

“Emma,” Dean said. “That’s a nice name.”

He was so quiet Emma wasn’t even sure if Dean was talking to her directly. She pretended to not hear him as she passed the card machine to him. Dean took out his credit card and entered in the pin.

“I don’t need a copy,” Dean said.

Emma frowned. Dean always took a copy. “Are you sure?”

Dean nodded and Emma slowly backed away from his table and went behind the bar. Dean started packing up his things and Emma ripped off the receipt and stared blankly for a moment at Dean’s strange behaviour.

Emma put the receipt in the cup she had behind the bar and heard Jenn whispering her name.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Jenn said.

“Mango.”

“Damnit!” Jenn’s eyes glanced over to Emma’s cup. She was always nosy about other people’s tips. Emma tried to not let tips bother her for her sanity’s sake, but no matter what Laura might believe, she wouldn’t be working at Savvy’s if tips weren’t there to pay her bills.

Jenn pulled out the receipt Emma had just put in and dropped her mouth open. “WHAT!”

Now curious, Emma pulled it out of Jenn’s hand and looked at the amount. The bill amount read: 32.98. When Emma’s eyes reached the tip amount, her stomach did a backflip. 20,000 dollars. There was no way. Emma rubbed her eyes. It was still there. Underneath that the total read; 20,032.98.

“What the…” Emma’s breathing became shallow.

She snapped her head in Dean’s direction. He was getting up from his chair and putting on his jacket. Emma ran from behind the bar and slammed the receipt on the table so hard, the empty pint glass on it almost toppled over.

“What the hell is this!?” Emma exclaimed.

Dean shrugged like nothing was wrong. “What? It’s a tip.”

“No, it’s not. It’s excessive. What the hell are you trying to do?”

“Something nice.”

“Then help an old lady cross the street or give it to your favourite charity. I’m not accepting this.”

“Well, I’m not taking it back, so you can do those things.”

Emma’s frustration reached the tipping point. “NO! I don’t need this. I don’t… I won’t do anything good with it.”

“Who says you have to anything good with it? It’s your money now. Treat yourself. Do whatever you want.”

“I dunno, I can’t.” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I would love to take your money, Dean, but I wouldn’t feel right. It’s like, cheating.”

“Cheating? At what? Life isn’t a game.”

“But it’s pretty similar.”

Dean shook his head. “There’s no way to ‘win’ at life.”

“I haven’t figured my shit out yet. That’s part of the game. Your money is like, dirty. I didn’t earn it. Give it to someone who really needs it.”

Dean ignored her. “Do you think I’ve won the game then?”

“Basically, yeah.”

Dean sat back down in his chair. His fingers tapped the tiny black notebook. “What do you want to do?”

“What?”

“Like, if you could do anything for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

Emma had been asking herself that same question for the last four years. Since she graduated high school, it seemed that’s all anyone ever cared about. The most annoying part is that she didn’t have an answer. She wasn’t necessarily unhappy with her life as it was now, but she felt inferior to all her friends and family who seemed to have a path, a purpose.

“I don’t know. I-I can’t imagine doing the same thing over and over again and still liking it forty years from now. I have no hobbies besides partying and watching TV – both of which require no skill, and I don’t spend any of my money to anything beneficial. Honestly, I’ll admit, I’m pretty selfish.” Emma looked Dean in the eyes. “So, take your damn money back.”

“You know, just because it looks like some people have it ‘figured’ out, doesn’t mean they don’t get lost too. I gave you all that money, and I don’t even know why. It’s weird. Money is like this thing that everybody wants a lot of, but once you get it, you’re like: okay, now what?”

Emma nodded. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“I really don’t know. I think I’m just trying to make myself feel good.”

“Did it work?”

Dean smirked. “It might have if you just thanked me, and we went on with our days.”

“Next time start out with two-hundred dollars then.”

Dean picked up his notebook and pulled off the thin black strap that held it shut. He flipped it open to the bookmarked page. “I actually wrote it down in my to-do list today. To do something good. I think I got a bit ahead of myself when you handed me the machine.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry I’m gonna get Laura to reverse the transaction.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’re really not going to take the money?”

“No. I’m serious. You’re being ridiculous trying to give that much away.”

“I’ll give you less.”

“No. In fact, I’m going to pay for your meal, so you don’t even have the chance to give me anything more.”

“Emma-“

“Nope. Thanks for coming in today. I’ll see you around.”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“No, but don’t ask my mom.”

Dean got up and stuck his notebook and laptop in his bag. “It is really unfair how much pressure we put on ourselves to always be chasing the next thing. No one is ever okay with enjoying what we’re doing right now. Slowing down isn’t okay anymore. I think that kind of thinking has aged me by ten years. Just enjoy where you’re at, so you don’t end up like me.”

“If ending up like you is the worst thing that can happen, can’t be too bad of a path. Take care, Dean.”

Dean waved. “Bye, Emma.”

He was out the door and Emma looked at the receipt. The thought of all the things she could do or buy began racing through her mind. Would those things really make her feel better? She grabbed the debit machine.

She marched into the kitchen. “LAURA!”