Sallie

      She moved her large body gracefully between tables, and slapped the check down on the corner booth table, populated by the party of seven, (five of whom were kids all under the age of 16), and after a dull stab of sympathy for the grey-with-exhaustion mother, and an indulgent moment of deep dislike for the florid and loud father of the group, she chirped a bright "Thanks, and have a great day in San Francisco", as she sailed her way back to the front check-out register to let that nice couple from table five pay and get on with their day of sightseeing and buying every souvenir in sight.

      The staff of Larry's Cafe were all trained to say that, "Thanks, and have a great day in San Francisco" , with as much sincere cheer as they could muster, and were judged harshly by Larry and his wife Lorraine if it ever came across as false or forced. All in all , not a bad thing to require of the wait staff, since it did seem to nudge the tips a bit higher, especially if said with a true smile, and after all, no one around Larry's had to wear any of that tacky crap ("bling", they called it?) on their uniforms like the poor guys over at Beach Street Diner had to wear, (the more the obnoxiously merrier), so a bit of genuine cordiality and friendliness  - (a slogan of Larry's: " Larry's Cafe, the cordial and friendly family place") wasn't so hard to manage.  And she really meant it for that poor Mom of five. If she could find five minutes of alone time to sit peacefully by the Bay, it would be worth her entire vacation. So Sallie hoped that the grey-looking woman could lose the kids , and that overbearing Dad, for a good solid five.

      "Uhm, pardon me," another, forgotten, customer from the back room table for one quietly interrupted. "Uh, could I have that coffee and Diet Coke any time soon? I am dying of thirst after all the  walking , y'know...".

      "Oh God, so sorry! That hasn't come yet? I'm compin' you on those, Hon,  and they'll be right there. So sorry! Jorge! Coffee and Diet C at number 11? Where IS that?" , Sallie yelled over her shoulder, smiling at the customer, but mad as hell at Jorge, who seemed to be back in Mexico this morning, rather than at Larry's, where he kept screwing up orders making Sallie's life that much rougher. And her headache sharper.  She needed to find a moment to gulp some Ibu's, or her head would snap off her neck.  "Jorge, coffee and Diet C, please! Number 11!"

      The placated customer slunk back to her table for one, and dove back into a stack of unwritten postcards.  Sallie liked her, as she seemed to understand the busy rhythms of the early morning breakfast rush, and had moved courteously from a four-top to her solo table, when asked to do so, and made no fuss about it. Sallie like people who seemed to understand the unspoken rules.  Jerome the Third never did, Sallie thought, then silently chastised herself for letting that quick memory of her last boyfriend sneak into her head.  Immediately, she countered its effect by saying out loud "Rhonda! Rhonda...Rhonda!"
      It's one of the things that had attracted her to Rhonda: Rhonda understood , and when she didn't , she re-wrote the rules, and simply expected Sallie to understand the changes. It was like they could read each other's minds. No arguments, no drama, just a nice quiet living together, raising the kid, cooking the meals, watching favorite TV shows, getting up and going to work, coming home: Sallie knew what to expect, and she liked it that way.  She never wanted it to be any other way, ever again.