Page 8 of Holding On

Chapter Three

Becca

"Order up for Becca," Max sings from the kitchen.

That's right. He sings it. All completed orders are announced with a song, and since the kitchen is open to the dining area, the customers are treated to the sound of Max's voice. It's just one of the many odd and quirky things about The Chicken Shack.

When I first moved here, I stopped at the bright red shack thinking I'd just get dinner. But then I heard Max belting out orders like he was auditioning for a singing contest and customers ringing bells at their table when they liked their food and realized this place is more than a restaurant. It's an experience. And I liked it.

In fact, the wacky atmosphere is what kept me coming back. I found the place to be fun, vibrant. A welcome distraction from my otherwise stressful life. A life that seems to have more downs than ups. But despite the downs, I'm doing my best to stay positive, finding those little pockets of happiness that keep me going.

The Chicken Shack is one of those little pockets. So when I saw the Help Wanted sign a few months ago, I applied right away. I got the job and started the next day and have been working here ever since.

It's a great job, other than the fact that I leave here smelling like fried chicken. Even if you love fried chicken like I do, that smell gets old fast.

"Becca, Becca, you light my day," Max sings as I pick up two platters from the counter. "You make my chicken go away."

He's being dramatic, holding his hands over his heart, and I laugh to the point that I almost drop my platters.

Max has had a crush on me since I started working here. He's asked me out at least five times, and each time I've politely turned him down. He's not my type. He's short and round with a chubby, boyish face and cheeks that always have a reddish hue that matches his curly, red hair.

He's 25 and has lived here all his life. He's super nice and is always offering to help with whatever I need, but I can't accept his help. Doing so might lead him on and I don't want him getting the wrong idea. As nice as he is, I'll never be interested in him that way. Even if I was, I'm not looking for a boyfriend. Guys will have to wait until later, when my life isn't so complicated.

Just as I drop off the food at table six, my phone buzzes in my apron. I hurry back to the kitchen to answer it.

"What do you need?" I ask, a slight panic in my voice because he usually doesn't call during my shift.

"Is there any way you could stop at the drugstore after work? The doc called in a new prescription and I forgot to get it earlier."

"Yeah. Of course. I'm off in an hour. I'll stop by and pick it up. Anything else you need?"

"No, that was it." He pauses. "Unless you want to bring me some leftover chicken." I hear the smile in his voice.

I glance at Max and the pile of breaded chicken he has sitting next to the fryer. "I think I could manage that. I'll see you soon."

"Thanks, sis. Love ya."

"Love you too."

That was my brother, Mike. He's the reason I'm here in this town. The reason I quit my nursing program back in Cincinnati. The reason I work two jobs.

Mike is 26 and used to be a sergeant in the Army. He was stationed overseas when a blast went off in his camp and killed five of his fellow soldiers, all close friends. Mike was lucky to have survived but was left battered, burned, and without a leg. It happened last fall so it's been awhile but he still has days when he's in a lot of pain which is why he hasn't been able to get a job. He applied for military disability but it's taking forever for the paperwork to get approved. That's why he's broke, and why I'm working two jobs. One would be enough if I just had to pay for rent and food but I'm also paying for Mike to go to a pain clinic in town. The military won't cover the cost because it's not an approved facility. It's really expensive but it's been helping Mike more than anything else he's tried so I'm willing to work another job to pay for it.

Mike's always been there for me and now it's time for me to be there for him, even if it means putting my own life on hold. He's my hero and I look up to him. Whenever I'm feeling down or sorry for myself, I look at Mike's prosthetic leg and the scars that cover his body and realize I have nothing to complain about. He watched his friends die. He lost his leg. And yet he still remains positive. He's an inspiration to me. He always will be.

The only time I've seen Mike feeling down was when Tricia, his fiancé, left him. It happened six months ago. Mike and Tricia were high school sweethearts. After graduation, she went to college and he joined the Army, but they stayed in contact via email and the occasional phone call. During their time apart, they dated other people but it was never anything serious because despite the distance between them, they still loved each other. When he was on leave, attending Tricia's college graduation, he asked her to marry him. She said yes and they spent a few days together before he left again.

Tricia ended up getting a job in public relations at Laytham College. It's a small private school here in town that's known for its football team. When Mike got out of the Army hospital he moved in with Tricia, but with his body still healing, he needed help with even the most basic things, like getting dressed or shaving. At first, everything seemed to be going fine, but then, after only a few weeks, Tricia decided it was too much for her and she took off.

She broke Mike's heart, and it was the only time I saw him depressed. But it didn't last. Instead of sulking and feeling sorry for himself, he focused his energy on creating a podcast for other military men and women who lost limbs. He doesn't make any money but he's making a difference in people's lives. Doing the podcast is good for Mike too. It's helped him deal with all that's happened to him.

"Tina, Tina, you're sweet as honey," Max croons as Tina picks up an order. "You take that cornbread, bring back some money."

I can't help but laugh. I don't know where Max comes up with this stuff but his lyrics are always hilarious.

Tina blows him a kiss. She's not interested in dating him but the two of them flirt just for fun. Tina is 21, same age as me, and has worked here since high school. She works nights. By day, she's a beautician. That's how I met her. She cut my hair and still does. She's a single mom with a two-year-old little girl named Missy who is completely adorable, with shiny black curls and a smile that melts your heart. She's another one of those pockets of happiness. Whenever I see her, she gives me a hug and her sweet smile and it makes even the darkest day seem brighter.

As I refill waters at table nine, the two old men sitting there ignore me as they debate the future of Laytham's football team.

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