Turning the Tables

I heard the drunk before I stepped out on the diner floor, to work my overnight shift. My best friend and fellow waitress, Mary, rushed by me to pick up another pie. She called over her shoulder, “The in your station, Ce. The good news is, so is the pretty, rich man.” I shuddered not knowing which one was worse. The pretentious snob rolled in every night with a different woman on his arm who could string two sentences together. I watched them come in after a night on the town for a late meal, piling out of a new orange McClaren. The adornment on the car was a Harvard Alum window decal.

He was beautiful, though. His collar-length blonde curls framed golden brown eyes. They set in an angular face with prominent cheekbones. His white linen dress shirt was open enough to hint at a perfect body beneath. I glanced back up and caught his eyes watching me, watching him. He smirked knowing I enjoyed the view. His arm candy glared at me while the drunk in the adjoining booth demanded service. Well, well. Wasn’t tonight going to be fun?

I trudged toward the drunk. “Hi, My name is Celia, what can I get you?”

“Well, you were worth the wait, baby. How bout you sit on papa’s lap, and we’ll talk about what I want?” I rolled my eyes in annoyance and turned heel when I felt something lock onto my wrist. It felt like my wrist was breaking. I looked back to see the drunk with a leering grin. “Now who said you could leave?”

As I tried to pull away I saw a flash of something white, and the drunk passed out cold. Harvard elbowed him between the eyes without even getting up, then ordered a number breakfast.

I glanced at the rest of his frame. Until now, it had escaped my notice that he was enormous. The drunk was standing when he grabbed my wrist and Harvard knocked him out sitting down.

“Sure,” I responded to his order, smiling. “And thank you.”

"You’re welcome, Celia. His rich baritone melted me as he looked up at me with hypnotizing eyes.

“And for you?” I asked his companion.

She glared up at me with her clown make-up beginning to smudge. “I’ll have an order of this is my man and you better look someplace else.” She trotted off to the restroom. I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help myself.

“Hey, Harvard, where did you pick that one up?”

He looked at me with a straight face but his eyes twinkled. “Harvard, huh? My name is Christopher Forbes, actually.”

I rolled my eyes. “Forbes? Well, don’t we scream money.”

He sighed disapprovingly. "You know, you're pretty lax about that attitude. I’ve been a regular customer here for weeks and I’m a generous tipper.

He was right. I bit my bottom lip as my stomach clenched. I was a twenty-eight-year-old widow with three little kids. His tips put groceries on my table. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

He never looked up from the open menu. “The lady will have a Spanish omelet with extra cheese. After all, I suppose I should feed the little street rat.”

I froze, not certain I heard him correctly. His face rose to meet mine with a grin that would have shamed the devil. I burst out laughing again as she made her way back to the table still glaring at me. I saw that her short skirt was tucked into the back of her thong showing the whole world her backside. Somehow, I didn’t have the heart to tell her. I gathered the menus. “That’ll be right out, Harvard.” as I headed toward the kitchen I heard him bellow, “Christopher!”

For the next three weeks, Christopher came into the diner alone. He asked me to take my lunch break and eat with him. We watched the sun come up over the booth and chatted like old friends. He let me wear his Armani suit jacket to cover my uniform. That way, no one asked for service. I learned he was kind, generous, and thoughtful. He was perfect; too perfect.

In comparison, my life was a train wreck. I met my husband right out of high school. We were married a year later. The diner was a steady job, so I had no thought of me going to college. He was a firefighter/EMT. The salary wasn’t but it took care of us. We bought a cute little two-bedroom ranch, and we were content. Our little twin boys came along in no time. That put a financial strain on us, and we fought constantly. Imagine his joy, when ten months later, I told him I was pregnant again.

In the middle of the pregnancy, I got the worst call imaginable. My husband that I adored, had died in an explosion while fighting a fire. He’d never even get to hold his baby girl that I still carried. I used the severance to pay off our house. I converted the garage to a small bedroom suite for my mom. She was my saving grace. She helped with the kids and the house while I pieced together odd jobs.

Once the kids started school, life got easier. I worked the third shift at the diner while they all slept. That took the strain of caring for them off of mom. She would never admit it, but she was aging. Two well-behaved but rowdy boys and a pouting little girl that demanded attention were getting too much for her. All she had to do now was tuck them back in . I took over when I got home in the mornings. I brought breakfast from the diner and checked homework. made sure they were dressed and ready for school. The minute the bus pulled away from the curb I collapsed into bed for four hours. I got up and poured through my online courses. In one more year I would be an elementary educator. then I would be worthy of this man; his status, his international recognition, his family, and his opulent wealth.

“Celia?” he called. “I’ve been pouring my heart out to you for weeks and I know so little about you. Why don’t you tell me?”

Oh, God. Here I go. I launched into part of my life story. I told him I was widowed with three young kids. He sat there listening to me the same way I imagine he attends a business meeting. He never responded, never showed any emotion. I finished speaking.

He looked at his watch. “I’d best let you get back to work.” He rose without giving me his customary kiss on the forehead. I watched the man I had fallen so helplessly in love with walk out the diner door. I was half sick knowing he would never come back.

The next night, he returned and I wished to God he would have stayed home. Instead of the casual business attire I was used to, he came in his three-piece suit, at four am. I sat down with him, and he pulled out an envelope. He was still stoic and cold. The sweet man I had come to know seemingly disappeared. I’d like to offer you a position in my company," he nearly spat the words. “There will be full benefits and insurance for the children. Of course, we’ll keep our dating life private from our professional life.” He passed me the envelope which was a lucrative contract offer.

As I read the pages, dread washed over me. I adore this I am so far beneath him that he pities me. I... have a good set-up here. My time is organized to let me take care of my kids and still go to school." I could feel the fire creep into my cheeks but for some reason, the genius in me plowed on. “If I make that much money I’ll lose my government benefits.”

He looked at me for a moment, blinking. You’re on government aid?" I could have sworn I heard a touch of disdain to his voice.

I wanted to crawl into a hole, and then I remembered why I had help. “Yeah, Christopher, they do that for people whose spouses gave their lives in the line of duty and their children who are diabetic,” I said breathlessly. Celia, don’t you dare cry for this man looking down his nose at you.

“You need a real job, Celia.”

The dread and humiliation faded into a white-hot ember of rage. “Listen, Harvard! I know you live in some fantasy as a billionaire by day, and a different woman every night. My guess is that you’re new money on top of old who’s never had to work for anything. Well, I know what works for me, and it’s not you. You call this dating? We’ve never been close to a real date. I serve you and you leave a big tip. I’m your food . You think this is some romance novel where the rich comes to rescue the poor waitress? No way! I’m turning the tables. I’m gonna save myself.” My shaky legs carried me to the back room where I could cry in peace. I felt the eyes of everyone in the diner watch me walk out as the bell over the door rang. Without looking, I knew Christopher left.

He didn’t come back for two agonizing weeks. By that time, I had so emotions jumbled in my head. I grieved the loss of him, but I knew he was ashamed of me. I hid in the back room. "Mary, tell him it's my day off, please?"

She tried. He yelled into the air, “, ? You can’t even face me?” He waited for a moment for me to come out. I peeked out from the backroom and watched as he shook his head and ran a frustrated hand through his golden hair. “I give up.”

I went home three hours later, filled with dread. I knew I lost him and Mom was exhausted. was going to walk into chaos and messes and this was going to be my life for the next year. couldn’t stop the pathetic tears as I opened the door to a spotless house. Wait. What in the world? Oh please God, I told mom not to clean. I jogged through the kitchen to the living room and nearly fell over.

Christopher had my five-year-old daughter on his lap, brushing her hair. The boys were dressed and playing with miniature construction sets. Their backpacks were lined up, and the kids were all three dressed for school.

“Harvard! What?”

"I couldn't give up on you. I knew you weren't speaking to me, so I talked to Mary. She told me what was going on and gave me your . Your mom sat on the couch and told me what the kids needed, then I put her back to bed. You underestimated me, . I’m sorry I made you feel bad. The truth is, I’m incredibly proud of you. I’m sorry I made you feel like I wasn’t.

I stood there, never so in love with a man before; not even my husband. Funny thing is, never even had a real date, but I still refused to be spoiled. “Hey, Harvard, how’d you like to go on a real date with me? My treat.”