The Beginning of the End, Part 14

Not a lot was said that day about the events of the night before. Although Kevin did ask me if I was sure I only had one hit… of course, I lied, and told him I was sure. “I think we ought to stick to what we know,” he commented with a grin.

There weren’t really any horrible after effects from the acid, but I kept waiting for the “flashbacks” that I had always heard about. Thankfully, I never experienced any. Possibly because after that day, I never did acid again. I spent most of the day lounging around, unpacking, and watching tv. My interview at Olive Garden was scheduled for the next morning at 10:00 am, and I wanted to make a good impression. My best friend back home, Diane, had already assured me that as my old manager at Red Lobster, she had pretty much sold me as the ultimate General Mills employee. But I was still nervous. New state, new people, new restaurant. I was used to crab legs and shrimp, and was venturing into pasta and salad. Besides, at Red Lobster, I had been only a cashier and hostess – I had applied for a waitressing position at Olive Garden.

Thankfully, Kevin made no phone calls that evening, and the two of us just vegged out in front of the tv and ate frozen pizza while Matt went out to visit his brother. Even so, morning came too quickly, and at 9:45 Kevin dropped me off at the front door of the imposing restaurant. It wasn’t really too far from home (funny, I was still getting used to calling the condo “home”) so I told Kevin I would just walk back whenever I was finished. With a kiss and a grin, he was gone, and I peered into the windows of the door looking for someone to let me in.

“Hey, you must be Dasi,” said the smiling man who opened the door. “I’m Greg, the GM. Come on in.”

I hoped he couldn’t hear my heart beating out of my chest, I had a feeling that wouldn’t bode well for the interview. I really wanted this job – I enjoyed working at restaurants, and I also had a feeling I needed to start earning an income as soon as possible. Not that I didn’t trust Kevin, of course, but I was used to making my own money.

Greg offered me something to drink, and I politely declined. He gestured to a double-top table alongside a staircase, and I took a seat. He had the application I had faxed him from Chicago, and nodded as he read it. “So, you haven’t been a server yet?” he inquired. I managed the proper look of regret and optimism. “Not yet,” I replied, “because I wasn’t 21 when I started, and when I did reach 21, they preferred I continue as a cashier. But now that General Mills is phasing out cashiers in all their restaurants, I decided I would like to be a server. And I love working with people. I actually did waitress once, on a lunch shift, and did a really good job. But it was never a permanent position. Like I’m looking for now. I mean, since I just moved here and all, I really want to start working as soon as possible.”

Gregg looked at me with amusement and raised his eyebrows. "Well, from what I see here, it looks like you're definitely what we're looking for. Your old manager and I had a talk yesterday, and she really has a high opinion of you and your work."

Thank you, Diane, I thought to myself as I released the breath I was holding.

"So, I'd like you to come in tomorrow at ten for the training class. You'll need to get black pants and a white button down shirt, we provide the rest. Training will last for about two weeks, then you'll be out on the floor yourself. Sound good?" he asked.

I smiled. "Sounds great!" After a few more formalities, we shook hands again and I was on my way. I was thrilled. It was a beautiful day outside, and the walk home was actually pretty enjoyable. When I got there, I was surprised to find the place emtpy. Oh, well, I thought. I guess I'll just watch some tv for a while.

I must have dozed off on the couch, because the next thing I knew, it was almost 3:00 and Kevin and Matt still weren't home. I was starting to get nervous, I needed to go to the store to get clothes for tomorrow, and I had no idea where a store was. Even if I did, without a car, I had no way to get there. I walked outside and checked out back in the parking lot. No car, no Kevin. I could feel the butterflies in my stomach as I went back upstairs to the condo. He had to come home soon. There was no way I would lose this job because of him...

At 5:00 I was pacing the floor. By 6:00, I was pissed. At 7:00, I started thinking that maybe something bad had happened, and felt guilty. When it hit 7:30, common sense kicked in and I figured I'd better try to cover my own ass. I called Olive Garden and spoke to Lisa, the manager on call. I explained that I was scheduled to come in the next morning for training, but that I wasn't able to get the shirt and pants I needed just yet. Lisa must have heard the panic in my voice, and she calmed me down and told me that she was the Dining Room manager who would be running the training classes, and that I didn't really need the uniform for the first week at all. As long as I came in prepared to learn, everything would be fine. I thanked her profusely, and told her I looked forward to meeting her the next morning. Then I hung up the phone, and sat down at the kitchen bar.

I wasn't sure whether I was more scared or angry about Kevin. I tried calling Matt's brother Jerry's house, to see if he and Matt were there, but Jerry said although Matt was there, he hadn't seen Kevin all day. In fact, Matt was waiting for Kevin to pick him up and drive him home. I promised to call them back if Kevin came home and had forgotten about Matt. Jerry put Matt on the phone, and Matt told me he would probably just stay there overnight, and that Jerry would give him a ride home the next day. "All right," I sighed. "But if Kevin makes it there, PLEASE call me."

It got later and later, and I finally decided I had to get to sleep if I wanted to make it to work in the morning. And the way things were looking, I would be walking there, so I'd have to leave even earlier. I fell into a fitful sleep, and was awakened by the sound of the front door opening. My eyes snapped open and I looked at the glowing numbers on the digital clok. 3:28. 3:28?? What the hell? I thought. I could hear someone moving around in the living room, and hoped it was Kevin. Because I wanted to KILL him.

I walked out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the living room, squinting at the lights. There was Kevin, pacing around, looking wild-eyed. I coughed, and he turned to face me. "Hey, babe! How was the interview?" he asked with a smile.

I couldn't believe how casual he was being. "I got the job," I replied frostily. "And I was supposed to get a uniform for my first day - tomorrow."

It was like he was only half-listening. "That's great, hon! Look, sorry I wasn't home earlier, but I met this guy, and we had this thing... Do you have a lighter?"

I shook my head in frustration. I had a lighter in my purse, and when I turned to toss it to him, he had already dumped out a small pile of rocks onto the kitchen bar. "Look what I've got - want a hit?"

Part of my brain told me that there was no way in hell I should be getting high when I had to be at my first day of training in less than seven hours. But my heart started pounding and the other side of my brain convinced me that a couple hits wouldn't hurt...

Four hours later, at almost 8:00 in the morning, everything was gone. And I was majorly tweaking. The last thing I wanted to do was go in for training with a lot of strange people, but I knew it had to be done. The words of my mother reverbated in my head: You play, you pay. I doubted this was what she had in mind when she told me that. Hopefully a shower would bring me down enough to function properly, and how long could a training class be, anyway? I looked over at Kevin and realized there was no way he would be able to drive me to work. Well, maybe the walk would help too...

Exactly an hour later, I left Kevin snoring on the couch and headed for Olive Garden. This sucks, I thought. Never again. And I tried to focus on the task ahead. Please let me make it through today, I prayed. I promise, no more partying like that before work. Ever.

I finally reached the restaurant and hoped my eyes weren't as glassy as they had been. My mouth was dry as sandpaper from nerves and the drugs, and I licked my lips and swallowed before knocking on the front door. Here goes nothing, I thought.