One night Mona and I were at a Blues Bar on Whyte Avenue; it was my birthday or Monas'...and we were experiencing a rare night out, sitting at the back of the bar and drinking heavy. A cute girl in her late teens, early twenties, sat at a table next to us with a group of people who appeared to be students.
She had long sandy blond hair, big pale eyes, flawless skin and a pert full mouth. Her cloths were casual and expensive. Her movements were graceful and unrushed. There was no indication of pain or hardship. She was a beautiful unfucked flower. I recognized her from the conference center she worked in banquets.
When Mona was up she looked in my direction. I said "Hi" and she quickly turned. I was saddened and disappointed. We both worked at the Shaw and had shared the same food, served the same customers, came through the same doors and received our pay cheques for the city.
I regained my composure and assumed she didn't recognize me, as I wasn't wearing my white uniform. I caught her attention with a quick wave and like a kid eager to impress proclaimed, "I also work at the Shaw." She stared blankly. I blurted, "I'm a dishwasher."
Recognition flashed across her face, (perhaps now we could talk), she looked impressed, her eyes lit up, she licked her lips, color shot through her cheeks she smiled shyly....
"Oh your one of those people who walks around with shit...all over you."
Referring to the leftovers that were invariably spilled as we raced to make room for the banquet staff to put down their trays. I said nothing and she continued smiling, then looked away...that was it.
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