A Strange Woman

Dabbing my eyes with my handkerchief, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Red rimmed eyes, pale lips and a pale face.

I turned the faucet on, washing my hands. This was the only place I could escape to when everything becomes overwhelming —too real.

Being a waitress had never been in my dream, well, fate got me to this point.

I turned around and froze. More like paused. A woman was staring at me with curiosity and whatever — I couldn't fathom what else was lurking behind those orbs.

Running my hands down my shorts, I straightened my spine, holding my head high.

"Good evening ma'am" I said, she nodded still staring at me. Like she was expecting something else.

I stepped past her, walking towards the door, hoping she hadn't been here the entire time. That she hadn't seen me cry. But guess I was damn wrong.

"Excuse me" her voice filled the restroom. I stood still, sucking air into my lungs. I'd always avoided this —with customers trying to butt into my private life.

I turned around, fixing my gaze on her, hoping my eyes conveyed the message.

I don't want to talk about it to you.

She looked sophisticated, like in her late forties or something. With her hair tied into a tight bun behind her head, I knew she was one of our VIP customers.

"Ma'am?" I probed. Her eyes were brown, that's what I thought until I saw a flicker of gold in it.

Unique eyes.

"You got your hair in disarray," she looked away, behind me precisely before returning her eyes back to me.

"You should get it fixed" She muttered before moving to the faucet, turning it on and washing her hands without another word to me.

I stood blinking, I'd expected something else. I'd expected the questions, but luckily she was able to catch the cue.

My hair.. I raised my hands to it and true enough, it was tangled falling in wild curls over my shoulders.

Shit!

I managed to get it into a ponytail. I'd never had the hair other women had. Mine was wild and difficult, I know the effort I'd put in getting it into a bun.

But, I ruined it myself, with my own hands. It happens, it always happens.

She dried her hands turning back to me with a soft smile tugging on her lips.

"You need someone to talk to? I'm sorry, I walked in on you" She said and my eyes roamed the floor.

She walked in.. I needed to change location. Somewhere else.

I gave no reply which was odd, considering I'd told quite a lot of women to back off. Yeah, I had quite a nasty temper.

But with her? There was something about this woman — motherly or just being sincere, I had no idea which.

"Here," She said and I looked up, she was just a few steps away from me. My eyes darted lower to her outstretched hand.

"This is my card, I have a feeling, I'd be of help to you" She said, her eyes were warm around the corner. I stared down at the card she held out to me.

Designed in rich gold and stripes of black, she was a woman of status. But I had no idea why she was doing this, or why she thinks she could be of help to me.

Despite my doubts, I collected it. Her name was written in big bold silver letters.

MRS. MOORE

I peered up at her from beneath my lashes forcing a smile on my face. She was staring, waiting.

For maybe recognition? I had no idea who she was. I managed to stay off social media ever since the tragedy happened.

I don't need a reminder, everything was haunting enough.

"Mrs. Moore?" I voiced out, my question obvious. She nodded, her eyes gleaming. She was definitely a woman of different emotions, I couldn't even fathom what was going through her head.

"Call me" She said before breezing past me and in a second, I was all alone again. I kept my eyes on the card.

Was she disappointed that I didn't know her? I flipped the card over, her number was written behind it.

Mrs. Moore. Who is she?

Tucking it inside the pocket of my shorts, I turned around marching out of the restroom. It was probably time for my shift.

"Good gracious, Farrah, where have you been?" Irish asked untying her apron and handing it over to me.

I shrugged, my eyes darted to the VIP section, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman.

"Restroom" I said, tying the apron around me. She paused, staring at me probably trying to gauge my emotion.

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"Are you okay?" She asked and I nodded before grabbing the tray of drinks, staring at the number inserted on the card.

Table 27.

"I'm good, let me get these drinks delivered," I said. Not waiting for a reply, I sauntered off.

Irish is my best friend, at least, she had been there when everything happened. She knew me, inside out.

Teenagers, or that's what I thought when I arrived at Table 27.

The boys immediately stopped chatting on seeing me. I looked away from them, placing the tray on their table and offloading the drinks.

"Your order, Misters" I said standing upright and tucking the tray underneath my arm. They nodded, speaking in hushed whispers.

Looking at their faces, they surely weren't up to 21. Probably 18 or less. They got in with a fake ID, I was sure of that.

"Can I get your name Miss and probably buy you a drink. We can hangout some other time and get to know each other" One of them said. I turned my eyes to him. Blonde.

Pasting a smile on my face, I shook my head. Seriously, do I look like a kid?

Dropping my voice, I whispered.

"You should concentrate on your studies, you aren't supposed to be in here," I muttered, his face paled immediately while his friends had their fists to their mouths trying to hide their laughter.

I straightened up, the smile slipping off.

"I'm old enough to be your older sister, if not Aunt" I said, turning around and walking back to the counter.

Little boys, they had no idea what the concept of Life meant. If I had my way, this was the last place I'd be.