Somehow I knew she was lying to me, but I didn’t want to push her, not yet. They’d be time enough to find out all I wanted to know. But without an address how would I find her if she decided to skip? And why did the thought of losing her make my gut hurt?
“Okay we’ll leave it for now. The hours are from four until midnight, you can start training tomorrow. Once your three days of training are up we’ll work out a schedule.”
“Do I get paid for training?” At least she wasn’t shy. Most people wouldn’t ask that question outright, at least not to me anyway. What a bold little thing she is.
“Yes, you also get meals before shift starts and all the soda and juice throughout. If I catch you drinking alcohol on the job you’re fired.” She made a face, but didn’t say anything else.
Just then there was a knock on the door and one of the bar backs came in with a tray. I saw the quick look she gave the food before looking shyly away again. It was the first look of uncertainty I’d seen on her face and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like that she was hungry.
“Thanks Paul, put it there.” I pointed to the place in front of her on the desk and waited for him to leave before looking at her. Pride, it came off of her like a scent. She was hungry that much was obvious, but she made no move to pick up the fork that was there.
“What’s this?” She looked at the steak and fries with the side salad that I’d ordered with a bottle of my favorite water, before staring back at me. She knew that I knew she was hungry, but to save her
pride I had to play this shit off right or I’d hurt her. I know a lot about female pride.
I’d watched my mother over the years and knew how hard it was for a strong woman to have to admit that she needed help from anyone.
This one looked like she was cut from the same bolt of cloth as mom was. Stiff necked, hardheaded, stubborn; but deep down the salt of the earth.
“I ordered you a meal. All the new tryouts get fed and since I robbed you of that I thought it only fair that I feed you.” That was only partly true.
The tryouts were fed sure, but nowhere near as good as that. “I wasn’t sure what you liked to drink so I ordered water. If there’s something else you’d prefer…”
“No this is fine.” She picked up the fork and put it back down again.
“Something wrong? The steak is medium-well, I wasn’t sure…”
“It’s not that, it just feels a bit odd eating with you watching me.” She gave me a look like she really expected me to get up and leave. What nerve in
this one.
“I won’t watch you, I have work to do.” I turned back to the long forgotten computer and pretended an interest in the words on the screen. In reality I was too aware of her presence to concentrate on anything else.
She watched me for a few seconds more before picking up the knife and fork, still with a wary look my way. She was hungry, but pretending not to be as she picked at her food. That shit hurt me like a stab wound to the chest.
I know the signs well and for some reason watching her reminded me of days when mom and I were barely scraping by and the pickings were slim.
Seeing her like that bothered me more than it should’ve. I’m the type who gives to charity and would drop a few dollars in a hat when passing someone in need, but I’m no bleeding heart.
She’s not the first person I’ve come across who didn’t know where their next meal was coming from. In fact I’ve hired plenty with that predicament, both men and women. But with this one, I hated that she knew that pain.
I felt guilt and didn’t understand the feeling. Guilt and some other emotion that I had no name for. As I watched her out the side of my eye, I wondered not for the first time in the last half an hour, just what the fuck was up with me.
It was as if I was in tune with this girl in some weird way. Just her presence alone was enough to bring forth memories I’d long buried. I hate revisiting the days of my mother’s hardship. Of the life we’d lived before football gave me a way out for her and I.
But here I was steeped in old thoughts all because of her. Somehow the memories didn’t cut as deep as they usually do, because of her. For some odd reason they made me want to take care of her all the more.