Today I was so tired that I didn’t bother to combat park. I pulled into the space and was grateful the Whale looked fairly straight. I locked the Whale—nobody was ever going to steal it, but why tempt fate?—and walked to the back of the restaurant. Abuelita was busy stirring a pot of crispy southwest potatoes for her huevos rancheros when I walked in. Her huevos rancheros were a house favorite. Most of our clients had their huevos with chorizo, but they were still amazing without the meat. Maybe I just worked at Abuelita’s for the food.
“Isis, I wasn’t expecting you this morning, but I’m so happy you came. Angelito was out with his new girl and didn’t come home last night. He probably will be late if he makes it in. This is not like him.” Abuelita was right. Angelito was a player, but he always put Abuelita first. For him to not come in when he was scheduled was not like him.
“He might come in before we open.” I had barely made it in time myself, so who was I to judge the boy?
“How are you feeling, dear? You looked awful last night. You’re not looking much better now.” Abuelita was trying to sound normal, but her voice was lined with worry. I noticed she was trying not to stare at me. I appreciated the space, but I knew it was taking a lot of effort for her to hold back.
“My headache is gone. I’m tired but OK. You were right—I was just tired.” No need for all the details from last night. The less Abuelita knew, the easier it would be. At least I hoped. “I’ll get the dining area ready to open. Do you need any help back here?”
“I think I got it. But would you like to work the rest of the week? My nieces are heading to Mexico on vacation, and I need extra help. What do you think?”
“Sure thing, Abuelita, I could use the money. Thank you for asking.” That wasn’t a lie; I really could use the money. Especially after I’d left early yesterday and missed all my tips. Besides, I would do anything to help Abuelita.
“Oh, good. Now I don’t have to ask that crazy cousin of mine. She’s a hot mess on a good day.” That was the understatement of the century. Cousin Maria was a mixture of Days of Our Lives; Beverly Hills, 90210; and Jersey Shore all rolled into one. If she didn’t have drama going, she was making some up. With three baby daddies, that woman made the rest of the world look boring.
I left Abuelita to her brunch extravaganza, as she called it. “All-You-Can-Eat Mexican Brunch” involved a lot of food. Our bar doubled as a buffet table on Sundays. So my job was to set up all the warmers, plates, utensils, and all those little things you needed to eat. I always wondered how many steps I took in this small space, but I never wanted to spend the cash for one of those fancy watch/pedometers. I was convinced I was at least at 2,500 before we opened. I kept forgetting something for each area and table.
Right before we opened, I heard Abuelita talking. By the sound of it, she was on the phone with Angelito. It was not a good talk.
Abuelita walked to the bar from the kitchen. “OK, Isis, it’s just us two. Are you sure you can handle things today?”
“I’ll be OK, Abuelita. It’s only a few hours. Where’s Angelito?” I was hoping he had a really good excuse for bailing on us.
“According to him, just getting home from driving all night. Something about going to Dallas with his girl. He sounded exhausted. After your spell yesterday, I was afraid of having another tired server around the customers.” Her expression turned sour. She was a very loving woman.
“Abuelita, I got this. You’re right. We don’t need him falling on people. The Sunday crowd serves themselves, so it’s easy.” I gave Abuelita my best Shirley Temple smile. She didn’t buy it.
My words came back to haunt me. There was nothing easy about the crowd. They were coming in all day, nonstop. If I wasn’t refilling food, I was busing dishes back and forth. In between the stampede, I ran the dishwashers. I was so grateful for the little things in life. I wasn’t sure how Abuelita did it. The food never stopped coming, and it was always delicious and hot. Even the people with special plates were impressed. The drive-through was killing me. By the time I got one order delivered, another car had pulled up.
Four hours on my feet moving like Speedy Gonzalez took its toll on my poor feet. I didn’t fall asleep on anyone or drop any more plates. I was too busy to even daydream. My only goal was to head to bed the moment I left Abuelita’s. It was 3:45 p.m. when the last customer left. Cleanup on Sunday normally took about an hour, but that was with Angelito here. I braced myself for at least two hours of hard-core manual labor. Abuelita was in a fabulous mood. She was singing an old salsa song to herself.
I was hurting everywhere, but slowing down was not an option. All warmers, plates, and utensils had been cleared from the dining area and moved to the back. That was my normal pattern—clear the dining area and then worry about all the kitchen stuff. With just one person working, dishes had accumulated everywhere. It took forever just to get all the horizontal surfaces cleared and ready to disinfect. I went by the window to wipe the tables. I looked over at the picnic table, and Bob was settling down. Bob normally showed up around five-ish to look after the place. He was early today. I wondered
