It was far less than she deserved for her crime.
Her stomach rumbled in argument. She really was very hungry. Coffee just wasn’t cutting it today and the bite of pie was spoilt in her stomach, making things worse. Her head throbbed, and she hoped that the medication would start to work soon. How long had it been since she took them? Was it time for some more? Her thoughts bounced around in a jumbled mess inside her head, her eyes unfocused as she looked around the restaurant, looking at the happy families, but not truly seeing them. Everything so glaringly bright, and alive. She couldn’t remember what time she had taken her last tablets, only that they had made her feel no better. There was a sickness inside of her, one that medication couldn’t fix. A sickness she couldn’t escape from any longer.
“Table for?” a young girl with a short blonde bob smiled at her, casting her blue eyes behind Delores to see if she was with anyone.
“One, please,” Delores spoke quietly, almost embarrassed for her shortcoming. “Table for one.”
The waitress’s smile never faltered as she grabbed a single cutlery set and menu. “Right this way, ma’am.” She walked off without waiting and Delores scurried after her, her decision to stay being made for her by the brisk waitress.
“This okay?” the waitress asked as she directed Delores to a small round table. Next to the table was another larger one, and at it sat a family of four. A mother, a father, and two children, one girl and one boy. A family much like her own, with only one small exception. The waitress glanced at Delores as she placed the cutlery down and smiled again.
Delores’s eyes flitted nervously to the family. They were a picture of perfection: happy, content, polite children, eating well and behaving how every mother wants their child to behave when out. The husband seemed doting, a loving caring man, if ever there were one. She should have smiled, she wanted to. This family was so lucky, but they weren’t aware of their luck. They had each other and they took it all for granted. The mother looked up, her eyes meeting Delores and widening fractionally as if she were a danger. As if she could sense the shadow of death that hung around Delores’s shoulders like a cloak.
“Can I have a window booth please?” Delores asked quietly, looking away from the mother.
“Oh, umm, sure.” The waitress frowned and scooped the cutlery back up before heading off in another direction leaving Delores to trail after her once more.
They arrived at a window booth, and the waitress stepped to one side to allow Delores to sit. The table was meant for four, and seemed much too big when she slid into the booth, pushing her body as close to the window as she could get. The wide expanse of wood was spread out before her like an abyss, acknowledging that she, Delores Stanton, was thoroughly alone. The waitress placed the cutlery down, handed her a menu and waited patiently.
“What can I get you to start?”
“Coffee please, black,” Delores asked as she took hold of the menu and opened it up. She didn’t want the bitter coffee, but want didn’t matter anymore. She needed the caffeine, needed the heat of it in her body to warm her. Needed it to remind her to keep going because it would all be over soon.
The waitress left without another word and Delores closed her eyes behind the opened menu, feeling her breath go in and then come out, each breath quicker than the last. The sound of so many voices—some yelling, some talking, some laughing, and a baby crying somewhere. One of the cooks shouted an order through to someone else, and somewhere within the diner cutlery was dropped and it clashed against the wooden table. A cup banged, someone else laughed and, through it all, the baby continued to cry and cry and cry. There were so many sounds that Delores felt dizzy as she battled to drown them all out.
The waitress came back a few moments later, and placed a full cup of steaming coffee in front of her. She’d barely given Delores enough time to swallow the panic attack that was threatening to explode from her. She looked up from the menu, never having read it and chosen what she wanted, her eyes wide and panicked.
“Okay, what can I get you?” The waitress smiled again, revealing a row of pretty white teeth.
Delores stared ahead, her eyes swimming in and out of focus. Her heart hammered in her chest, her lungs once more refusing to work. She didn’t hear the waitress scuttle off and come back a moment later, squeezing into the booth next to her and handing her a brown paper bag.
“Okay, ma’am, just breathe into this. It’s going to be okay.”
Delores looked down at the bag, tunnel vision taking control of her, and making her head pound even more than it had been doing. She felt the bag cover her mouth, and she took great gasps of air from it, feeling the tide of panic slowly begin to ebb away, and the sounds around her become muffled.
Moments passed, seconds, minutes, time a fleeting and continuous mechanical machine that would forever continue to move onwards, regardless of whether she wanted it to or not. Delores became aware of a hand rubbing her back in soft circular movements. The sound of the restaurant coming back to life as the humming and throbbing passed back into the background once more.
She pulled her face away from the bag and looked up at the waitress. Delores offered a small smile of thanks, the action feeling strange on her face. The waitress returned the smile, hers being warmer and larger because the action was frequent and not forced.
“You’re okay now. I’ve got you.” Her eyes shone with kindness, the earlier impatience gone. “My momma used to suffer with panic attacks,” she offered by way of explanation. “Always have a paper bag handy,” she chuckled. Her blue eyes pierced Delores’s soul, reminding her of eyes that she had once met with joy and love. Eyes that now only engulfed her in misery.
She couldn’t help the gag that escaped her lips. Delores leant forwards and wretched into the brown paper bag, bringing up the tablets and black coffee she’d been surviving on. And of course, a small bite of pie.
Delores continued to wretch and wretch until her throat burned and her chest ached. Her eyes streamed and she squeezed them shut as pain wracked her body. The hand was on her back again, doing its circular dance and making her feel worse, but there was nothing left inside her, nothing more to come up and out.
A tissue was pushed in front of her and she gladly took it and wiped her mouth as she finally stopped. She dropped it into the bag and looked back up at the waitress.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammered, feeling embarrassed as people from other tables turned to look in her direction with disgust. “I’m so, so sorry!”
The waitress looked worried, but continued to smile. “It’s okay. I’ll go get rid of this and you go wash up.” With that, she stood, twisting the top of the bag closed. “Bathroom’s back there.” She pointed and wandered off, leaving Delores alone.
*
In the bathroom, Delores threw cold water on to her blotchy face. A thin line of perspiration had built across her forehead, and down the back of her neck, and her hair was sticking to it. Her breasts felt sweaty from the thick heat and she realised that she probably smelt quite bad. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d washed, or the last time she’d changed her clothes.
Embarrassment flooded her cheeks, and she clutched the sink as she stared at her sunken features in the mirror.