Word Weld

“Heather, take table six, would you?” I asked, and the girl nodded quickly, note pad in hand. She was new, and all of eighteen. This was her first job and she was very nervous, as Callas’s was a fine establishment… not McDonald’s. Perhaps I had been too generous with her.

“What was that last salad, Miss Athan?” she asked… again.

“Cretan Garden,” I said, standing by the podium. “Mention fresh peppers, tomatoes, feta cheese and oregano. It’s served with bread to dip in the tangy lemon dressing. Be natural and friendly. Now go on–you’re doing fine.”

I remained at the podium, a list of names in front of me, and the people who owned them seated beyond. It was 6:00 PM and our business was, as on most Friday nights, doing quite well. There were businessmen and women, a few dates, some friends, and a few families–a smattering I had come to expect on such nights.

“Excuse me, but how long will it be?” came a voice right in front of me.

“15 to 20 minutes,” I replied at once, looking up.

“Well, that just won’t do,” the girl frowned, “I demand to be seated at once!”

While the other customers looked irritated with her, I raised an eyebrow and leaned over the podium, staring the young woman down.

“Well, there aren’t any tables yet, but there is plenty of floor,” I replied. “And I’ll even get you a bowl of water.”

Some of the other customers laughed or clapped, but though she looked indignant for a moment, the young woman soon pouted, until I came around and hugged her.

“Winter, you’re a troublemaker,” I told her. She was my best friend: an attractive, twenty-four year old blonde with shining gray eyes. “Head on back and I’ll be there in a minute. Ron is running a little late tonight, but he should be here in a few.”

She winked and walked off toward the staff table at the back of the restaurant, while I continued to wait for Ron (who was one of my managers) to arrive. As I continued to write myself notes, a middle-aged gentleman ambled into the waiting room and, smiling at all the other guests, came up to the podium. He was dressed in a long frock coat and small wool fedora, wore gloves, and had a white cane. Tall and thin, he was an old fashioned sort of man. When he saw me, his smile seemed to intensify, and his blue eyes flashed strangely, but I greeted him as I did other guests.

“Welcome to Callas’s! Is it just yourself tonight, sir?”

“We are never alone, truly,” he replied, still smiling. “Still, tonight I dine alone, my dear. You look very lovely, I might add.”

“Why, thank you,” I smiled, pausing a minute. “Have you been here before, by any chance?”

“I’ve been about.”

“Oh, well,” I was a bit puzzled, “there’s a 15 to 20 minute wait currently, but if I could have your name, I’ll get you a pager, and you can walk around the area, if you wish, within a quarter of a mile. The name?”

“Justice.”

I started. “Justice…? That’s your name?”

“It’s my title,” he admitted. “I used to be a judge, you see. Justice Waters. You seem surprised… is it that strange?”

“A bit,” I was frank, “although the truth is that my name–my real name–is ‘Justice’. Justice Athan… I am the owner of this establishment.”

“Very pleased to meet you, Justice,” he bowed, removing his hat. “I would be quite pleased to wait 15 to 20 minutes in order to dine under your careful gaze. Carefulness is something I admire, you know, and is a personal trait well worth having. After all, sometimes when things happen to us, we wish they weren’t our own fault–we wish we had we been more careful. Sometimes, however, carefulness cannot help us, for all who sail upon the sea will get wet, yes?”

There were no more chairs, so Justice Waters stood, quite calmly, waiting, and eyeing me from time to time, though he scarcely seemed to be looking right at me. It made me feel slightly uncomfortable, but there was also something inside me that was bursting with curiosity about the man. That was when Ron showed up to take over. I left the podium, remembering that Winter was waiting for me in the back.

“What took you so long, Jess?” she complained, shaking her head. “I’ve had two lemonades and Molly’s been torturing me with that garlic bread of yours!”

“Why don’t you just eat some?” I asked, being seated as Molly (one of my older servers) presented me with my usual glass of water.

“I can’t… not on my diet,” Winter answered, looking glum.

“When are you going to realize that diets are a waste of time, especially for you?”

“What do you mean?” she whined. “You mean there’s no hope for me?”

“No,” I rolled my eyes, “I mean you’re not fat… in any way.”

“I could get there though… I was a chubby baby, Jess…”

“All babies are chubby, Winter.”

“Not all of them,” she squinted. “I’ll bet you weren’t, were you?”

“I was chubby…ish,” I defended. “Anyway, I can’t believe we’re having this discussion. Everybody knows you’re beautiful, Winter. You’ve had men fight over you before, I’m sure you remember well, and please don’t act modest.”

“I just wish I had your grace… your elegance, Justice…”

“Look, you already get a free meal,” I stopped her. “What more do you want from me? You’re better looking than I am, Winter, so please, don’t make me ill… and don’t call me ‘Justice!’ It’s such an awful name.”

“I didn’t have a date last Saturday,” she bragged, ignoring most of my comments.

“That’s because the guy you were supposed to go out with was ambushed by another guy who went you with you the last two weeks, and got jealous. So who won? You never told me, and I’m curious…”

“You could go out on a date if you wanted to, you’re just too busy,” Winter scolded me, again ignoring most of what I had said. “You have to loosen up and go out for a bit–have some fun! I know… you’re worried about your testimony. Well, you can date other Christians, right?”

“You date men who claim to be Christians, Winter, and they fight for you,” I was unimpressed. “For a chance at date with you, a man would say he was a rubber ducky. I want a man who isn’t going to say anything just to get attention. And besides, I am too busy. I only acquired Papa’s restaurant a year ago! Give me some time. I’m a new business owner!”

“Well, you may call me a flirt,” she sipped her lemonade from a straw. “But have you ever heard the word materialism?”

“I’m not obsessed with money,” I retorted. “I just have to take care of the business…” I trailed off, as I heard one of the servers mention “Justice” to one of the cooks. As he passed, I flagged the waiter down. “Jeb, did you mention ‘Justice’ a moment ago?”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about you, Miss Athan,” the man clarified. He was a bit green too, and knew that I did not like my first name. “I was just talking about that customer on table two. He’s been staring at the menu every time I went by, and when I ask him anything, he just talks about the ‘lovely proprietor’ and how he would like her opinion on the wines, ‘were it possible.’ I told him you most likely couldn’t see him, but he just said that was a ‘terrible pity.’”

“Ooo!” Winter grinned. “An admirer! That is simply adorable! I wish I could meet him!”

“Oh, hush,” I rose. “Don’t worry about anything, Jeb, I’ll handle table two until he leaves.”

“Does he know your name, then?” my friend inquired.

“Only because he seems to have the name too. He used to be a judge, apparently, and likes to be called ‘Justice’ for some reason. I’ll be back in a bit.”

I found the man’s cane leaning against the table and his coat neatly folded upon the chair across from him, his hat placed atop it. When he saw me arrive, he brightened and laid down his menu, folding his hands on top of it.

“My dear Justice!” he said. “How fortunate you could dote upon me. It is most generous of you. It would seem you still have time.”

“Still have time, Justice Waters?” I frowned.

“Yes…” he looked very intense, and his eyes moved very little, “…still… Now,” smiling once more, “about the wines?”

“We have a full list,” I indicated the object folded in the middle of the table.

“I see, however, I want your opinion. In fact, I want your choice. I surrender the decision to your capable hands, my dear. Tell me, what would you choose for me?”

“Well, I don’t do a lot a drinking, but the Cabernet Sauvignon is an excellent, if not classic choice, and ours is an exceptional chardonnay. Of course, if you prefer white wines, we have a wonderful Albariño, though it can be a little tart.”

“Which would you choose?” he stared so intently that I thought he was making a point of some kind, though I could not guess what it was.

“I don’t prefer the Albariño due to the tartness,” I replied.

“Of course, you prefer the sweeter juices. Don’t we all? It is so in life, too, isn’t it? We want to choose for ourselves, to choose the cup that seems the most attractive to the senses and the intellect. But it is not our choice, in reality.”

“I may pick a wine you don’t like,” I was trying to understand what he was getting at.

“That is very true,” he grabbed at my words as if they were made of gold. “We are handed the cup in this life, just as you will hand the wine to me. We trust in the one who bears the cup, for we must drink it… sweet… or not. It may be a cup of blessing, or it may be a cup of wrath, but however it tastes to our mouths at first, in the end it is the best.”

“I’m not God,” I observed. “If I were, I’m sure I would make the perfect choice.”

“He will make the perfect choice for you, my dear, though it may be bitter. Have faith, and courage… And in the meantime, I shall exercise my faith and courage, and try whatever you choose to set before me.”

“Would you like anything to eat?”

“A light salad, also of your choice, if you please.”

I put in his order to the chef, though I prepared the wine myself. I could not say why, but for some reason I felt that there was a great significance to my choice. Who was this man, and why was he being so cryptic?

“What is it?” asked Winter. She had come over to the wine racks with me when I was preoccupied. “You don’t usually take this long pouring wine… are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I assured her. “I’m just wondering about this customer…”

“The one who likes your name?”

I nodded, “It just seems like he’s not normal. I mean, he asked me to choose his wine for him, but made the whole thing into this analogy about life and having to put up with things.”

“You’ve lost me,” she said blankly.

“I’m lost myself,” I admitted, and for some reason chose the Albariño.

“Not Albariño,” Winter scoffed. “You don’t like that kind of wine… why would you choose it for him?”

“I don’t like most kinds of wine,” I said, but I knew it was a weak excuse. “I don’t know… it just seems like the one I should choose… it just seems like the one he wants me to choose. He said that sometimes the wine tastes bitter for a while, but later it ends up being the best…”

“Well, it’s ‘later’ since I last had it, and I still hate Albariño,” she quipped.

“Winter,” I turned upon her, “it’s not about the wine. That’s just it. This man is either just very eccentric, or else he’s crazy! But I can’t shake the feeling that he knows something, something very important that is going to happen. He told me that God would make the right choice for me, and that I should have courage.”

“You watch too much TV, Jess,” my friend replied evenly. “Don’t start getting all jumpy! God will take care of you no matter what this guy says. You can’t put any stock in some loon with a preacher complex and no opinion of his own… not to mention bad taste if he actually likes that stuff.”

“Winter, you’re not getting what I’m saying,” I spoke more deliberately. “There’s something different about this man, and I want to know what it is. I want to know why he’s so interested in me, and what any of this means.”

“Okay, okay,” she held up her hands. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I said, thinking hard. “I suppose at the moment I’m going to bring him his Albariño, and take it from there.”

“Why don’t you let me do it for you?” Winter suggested. “Then I can give you my opinion of him.”

“Maybe,” I considered. I wanted to question the man further, but getting a second opinion, especially a skeptical one, sounded like a good idea. However, the man was also part of my clientele and I didn’t want to drive away business, which a skeptical person like Winter might accidentally (or deliberately) do. “I don’t know. I don’t want you to be unfriendly…”

“I’ll be the epitome of sweetness,” she winked. “You just hand me that tray and I’ll take it where it needs to go… and make certain our little friend doesn’t have his cows in the henhouse and his chickens out to pasture.”

“Okay, but if you make me lose a customer…”

“Relax!”

I watched her swagger out into the dining area, looking quite the ditz in her yellow two-piece suit with its knee-length skirt and white high heels, and I at once regretted sending her in my place. The man would think I was avoiding him, or worse… he would flirt with Winter, just like everybody else. Somehow I couldn’t abide the idea of him doing anything mundane.

A good five minutes went by before she returned, staring at me like a dog that had been kicked in the head by a horse. I was shocked, because I had only rarely seen her look anywhere near the way she looked.

“What happened?” I asked as she set the tray on the staff table.

“I have no idea what his deal is,” she admitted quite readily. “If I believed in reincarnation, I’d say that in a previous life that man was a fortune cookie. I mean, everything he says is this cryptic insanity that I can’t make heads or tails of.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I mentioned that the wine was your choice, as he had requested, and I mentioned that it was not your personal favorite, but that you had heard it had a long-term flavor. He then said something about how he was glad you could understand him, and that you will endure the taste of the wine long enough to be ‘thankful’ for its bitterness. I mean, the man has a charming demeanor, but he’s a fruit… probably several… if that intensifies it for you.”

“I’m going back out there,” I determined.

“At least he seems harmless enough,” she called after me.

I found, to my surprise and chagrin, that Justice Waters was gone. His table was empty, and the glass of wine was drained. Underneath the glass was a hundred dollar bill, and inside the glass was a slip of paper like a business card. However, there was nothing on the card except for something scrawled in pen on one side:

Not by sight

Puzzling, I asked Ron if he had seen the man leave, but he confessed he had been too busy to notice who was leaving. However, Theresa (another server) had wished him good night, though she hadn’t noticed that he was angry or disgruntled in any way. I turned the business card over in my hands, and something on the blank surface felt rough, but I couldn’t contemplate on it before Winter interrupted me.

“Well?” she demanded. “What did you find out?”

“Nothing,” I answered, throwing the card on the table. “He left. The man paid a hundred dollars for a single glass of wine and a salad he didn’t eat. He left that card inside the glass.”

“Looks like a business card, but there’s nothing on it,” my friend puzzled, picking up the card. “What’s this? ‘Not by sight.’ Huh, very nice handwriting… I told you he was a fruit, Jess, but I think he’s some kind of rare tropical variety, because this is just too weird.”

“You’re probably right, but he paid a hundred dollars for this. How many people with brain damage can actually pay that much money for almost nothing?”

“Maybe he’s on drugs or something?”

“That’s impossible,” I pointed out. “Look at the way he was dressed and the way he behaved. He did not have the look of someone experiencing another reality in his head. Theresa said he didn’t seem annoyed in any way, and said ‘goodnight’ to her. She said he was smiling.”

“Yeah, and what does this mean, Sherlock?” she waved the card in front of me.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snatched the paper, getting a little irritated with her. “Anyway, there’s nothing to be done. The man’s gone and we’ll probably never see him again. I just wanted to know what the point of all that was.”

“I think you’re obsessing over this too much,” Winter seemed impatient. “Settle down, Jess! You know there’s just nothing to this. Just let it go.”

I nodded, though I didn’t know anything of the kind. In fact, I had a strong inclination that it meant something very important, but I couldn’t see what.

Around closing time I made sure everything was tidy and locked up and then walked out back to my car. I still had the little slip of paper in my hand, but at this point I had forgotten what I thought was strange about it (beyond its mysterious message). I got in my car and subconsciously readjusted my rearview mirror, even though it needed no adjusting. However, as I did, I noticed a black sedan parked on the other side of the lot, its lights off and its windows darkened. Not recognizing the car, I wondered who it belonged to. I soon backed out and made off, only just noticing the other car moving off too as soon as I had left the lot. As I was driving, my cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me again, your personal housefly,” came the carefree voice.

“Oh, you,” I said, jokingly, putting the strange patron’s card in the closest cup holder, “well, what is it now, Winter?”

“Hey, seriously, I just wanted to say I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t mean to be… you know… a jerk or anything about what happened tonight. It occurred to me–just now, I know–that it might have been something you took really seriously. I just don’t want you to worry about stupid stuff, Jess.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, as a pair of bright headlights filled my mirrors. “I probably was just reading into things too much. Don’t worry about it, Winter, I’m alright.”

“Good,” she sounded relieved. “Are we still playing tennis tomorrow morning?”

“God willing, we are. You promised me you wouldn’t cry when I beat you.”

“Ha, ha. Sure, Jess. We’ll see who’s crying then…”

Suddenly I felt a jerk and knew at once that the guy behind me had rear ended me, though not severely. Feeling a little anxious to get home, I sighed and told Winter I’d have to call her back later. Hanging up, I proved to be a very stupid woman and got out of the car, at night, on the side of the road, to look over the damage.

I bent down at the back of the car and looked over the results of the collision. It did not look like much damage was done, though with a NASCAR fascination like the guy seemed to have, it was a wonder he hadn’t caused a major accident.

At that point I heard someone walking up, and looking over, saw only the man’s outline against the strong glare of his headlights. He made a strange motion towards me and I suddenly heard a loud noise and felt a strong burning sensation. After that, I didn’t remember anything else.