Page 20 of On the Line

The sounds of the busy restaurant rush into me all at once like a crushing wave. It overwhelms me, especially when I’m trying to think and I can feel tears prick my eyes.

When I left Zachary’s place this morning, I thought I had it all in control. I thought I could just push it all down and I’d be fine. But somewhere between then and now, the numbness thawed and I’m left with bone-deep sadness.

Maybe this morning was a catalyst but this sadness doesn’t seem to have a middle, beginning, or end. It’s as if I’ve been wading in this feeling my whole life and only now have woken up to it.

“Shit,” I mutter hopelessly under my breath. I take aslow inhale, looking upwards to try and swallow the feeling back down. There’s no time for tears. I’m in the weeds and I can hear the bell on the pass ding. Quickly punching my forgotten order into the POS system, I scurry over to the kitchen.

“Chef?” I say to no one in particular, my voice is meek but loud enough for the whole back-of-house to hear. “I fucked up, I’m sorry but I forgot to punch in two niçoise for table 5, can I have it on the fly?”

The kitchen answersnoin unison. Some rather creative curses follow the outrage.

I know they’re fucking with me but I still feel like crawling in a hole and dying.

I force myself to stand there and wait.

“I’m on it, princess,” Ozzy barks through the noise and my gaze snaps to his station. His eyes are serious but there’s a barely-there smirk that manages to ease my inner turmoil a little. “But you better go apologize to your table, you aren’t pinning your mistake on the kitchen.”

“Yes, chef,” I say sharply, nodding diligently and Ozzy’s smirk widens.

I don’t wait around, turning on my heels to pick up drinks waiting for me at the bar.

An hour later, the moment I’ve been waiting for my whole shift arrives. The rush has finally ended, and I speed-walk through the kitchen, heading for the walk-in fridge. Luckily a lot of the cooks are outside smoking near the dumpsters, so I can evade any snarky remarks. The oddly comforting smell ofcoldwraps around me, and I hurriedly close the door.

But I need more than just cold air.

At the back of the fridge, there’s another door, which leads to the freezer.

When I can finally see my own breath and goosebumps prickle my skin, I take a deep inhale. Closing my eyes for half a second, I finally let the tears flow freely. They feel hot on my cold skin, the sensation somehow soothing, and a wave of relief finally settles over me. I bite back a sob, trying to keep as much decorum as I can, but it feels impossible. I know I only have a few blissful minutes and I’m afraid if I really let go, I won’t ever stop crying.

I’m dabbing some tears with the sleeve of my black button-down shirt when the door opens and Ozzy walks in.Shit. I’m so embarrassed I feel like I might start crying all over again. My knee-jerk reaction is to whip around to try to hide my face but I realize just as fast that there’s no place to hide. I sheepishly turn back around to face him, while holding back a few sniffles.

Ozzy’s hand is still on the door handle while he looks me up and down. And I fight back more embarrassment.

He whistles. “Uh oh, penguin mode …” he drawls casually. “Rough night?”

I give him a small dejected laugh while trying to pat the bottom of my eyes dry. “Yeah,” I answer with a long exhale. “Something like that.”

“The walk-in fridge is overrated anyway,” he says with a shrug, finally closing the door behind him. “If you ask me, the freezer is superior when you need a good cry.”

“Is that so?” I ask, letting out a small humorless chuckle, followed by a small sniff. I force out a half-grin. “Talking from experience?”

He shoots me a mischievous look. “These walls have seen my blood, sweat,andtears, Jimbo.” Reaching over, he grabs a Snickers bar from the shelf and shoves it into his chef jacket. Seeing me watch him, he adds, “Personal stash, help yourself.”

I laugh a little bit more genuinely this time. Finally starting to feel the freezing cold seeping beneath my skin, I cross my arms. “That’s all you came in for?”

He flashes me a bright smile, dimple appearing and disappearing. “A little something sweet for later.”

I let out a half-hearted huff as we both fall silent, his joyful expression slowly fading while he studies me. I can feel the emotions swell up as he carefully watches me, my vision blurring with tears.

Shit.

If only I could control my emotions for once.

Ozzy notices immediately and steps forward. “Ah come on, Jimbo, don’t cry,” he coos, reaching over as if to comfort me. Seeming to think better of it, he stops in his tracks and lets his hand fall.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” I reassure him, fanning my hands near my eyes while looking up, trying to dry up yet another emotional outburst. “I just need this shift to end.” I laugh sheepishly, hoping to cut the tension.

He pulls the bandana off his head and runs his hand through his curly hair. Looking down and then up, he says, “Just not a big fan of seeing you like this.”

---