Chicago--Part 8

The next day, I took my position at the grill next to Candice.  We quietly set about our work until she suddenly spoke.  “Last night.  That’s how Solomon is.  He tests everyone.”  I looked at her out of the side of my eyes, making sure to be attentive to my side of the grill.

            “Tests?”

            “If James hadn’t burned the picture, what do you think would have happened to him?”  She said quietly.

            “Solomon would’ve…counseled him?” 

            “Maybe,” she said not sounding too convinced.  “Look, I haven’t been here that long, but most the people who don’t pass their test don’t end up staying much longer.”

            “So I should be ready when my test comes, I guess.” 

            “Yeah,” she said staring at the grill. 

            “Have you been tested?”

            “I don’t think so.”

            Aside from that conversation, that day and the ones following became indistinguishable in every other way.  Every day started with us getting up and going immediately to work.  I worked the grill with Candice most days, but subbed for others who got sick from time to time.   Then came the cleaning, the offering, the meal and bed.  It was consistent, unchanging, and it filled every moment of the day, except the few moments when my head would hit the pillow before the weariness of the day pulled me into a deep, dreamless slumber. 

            I couldn’t keep track of the days of the week.  I couldn’t keep track of the seasons, except one day I would notice it was snowing and what seemed like a week later people were running around in shorts outside the windows in front of the grill.  This was the most peaceful time in my life.  I thought only about what was happening right in front of me.  I was flipping pancakes, doing an offering, cleaning, eating, or sleeping.  Everything else stopped at the windows.  There were no shocking surprises that I had to investigate.  There were no problems.  I never talked to anybody who might upset my day-to-day.  Living became simple, mundane, and utterly the same.  I knew when I got up exactly what was going to happen during the day from the moment I slipped out of bed until I crawled back in.  And I enjoyed that so much.

            But of course my happiness meant that something had to change.  So as I stood next to Candice, flipping pancakes and turning sausage, Calvin tapped me on the shoulder.  “Arthur has the flu, so we’re gonna need you up front.”

            “Taking orders?” I replied.  “Never done that.”

“Yup.  It’s not hard.  You just ask them what they want to drink.  Get that.  Then you ask them what they want to eat.  Then you get that.”  He said as he grabbed me by the elbow and started pulling me forward.  “Look, I know this is different, so we’re giving you a small section, just a few tables.” 

“But,” I started as we reached the doors to that separated the kitchen from the rest of the restaurant.  “I liked…I don’t…”  I took a breath.  “They’re outsiders.”

“Leopold, don’t talk to them about anything other than the menu.  Be friendly, but don’t talk to them about anything other than the menu,” Calvin said handing me a blank notepad.  “You’re responsible for those four tables.  Don’t mess up.”

I stood there for a second.  It felt like Solomon was testing me.  For the first time in however long I had been there, I was going to deal with people who weren’t like the rest of us.  I took another breath and walked over to the only table in my section that had anyone seated at it.  I approached a man who appeared to be looking around the room, despite the newspaper he held in his hands.

“Welcome to Victory’s Griddle, may I take your order?”  I said, thinking this sounded like what I was supposed to say.  When he looked up at me, the man’s eyes widened for a split second before he smiled and ran one hand through the thinning gray hair that crowned his round head.  He quickly folded the newspaper he was reading and smiled up at me. 

“There’s going to be two of us, so why don’t we start out with coffee.  Both black.  Then bring we’ll look at the menu and see what we want.”

I felt the blood rush to my face.  “I’m sorry.  It’s my first day taking orders.  I’ll get you the menus and bring you the coffee.”

“Not a problem.”  He said with a smile. 

As I turned away, I had the feeling he was still looking at me.  As I walked to the coffee machine, I snuck a peak over my shoulder in time to see him unfolding his newspaper again. 

            I poured out two steaming cups of coffee, taking one cup in each hand, hoping I could walk the twenty feet from the machine back to the table without spilling all of the black liquid on the floor—or myself.  As I headed back to the table, I saw there were two people at the table.   Concentrating on keeping the cups level and not spilling, I set the cups down in front of the two men and looked up at them both with a smile.

            “Hello [Gumshoe],” said a voice I had not heard in a long time. 

            My face burned with embarrassment.  “Clarence.”  I stood up quickly, feeling the blood rush from my head and feeling suddenly light-headed.  “I forgot the menus.”  My voice felt distant, as if someone behind me was speaking and their voice was two octaves higher than mine.  “I’ll be right back.”  I crept a stumbling walk toward the stand by the front door where the menus were kept.  I took a deep breath trying not to think about everything seeing Clarence made me think about.  In my old life, Clarence had been my best friend since elementary school.  He was a criminal attorney with a reputation for striking with power and precision, like lightning, which, despite his diminutive stature led to him being referred to as the Big Man.  It was a nickname Clarence pretended to hate.  “Des Moines is my old life,” I mumbled, hoping the more I repeated it the truer it would become. 

            I returned to the table feeling my resolve returning to me.  With as much poise as I could muster, I set the menus in front of the two gentlemen and remaining silent for a minute.  Clarence took this moment to speak.  “You can grab your things, I’ve come to take you home.”

            “I am home.  And my name is Leopold.”  I said.  “Now we have a special—“

            “I don’t want to know about the special [Gumshoe],”

            “Leopold.”

            “Whatever,” Clarence said giving me a look that told me he was trying to determine if I was crazy or stupid.  “They caught the guy.  It’s over.  It’s been over for a while, so please.  Get your stuff and we can—“

            “It’s a sausage sandwich made with gruyere cheese, fresh basil, and—“

            He raised his voice.  “[Gumshoe], I don’t know why you decided to hide in this cult instead of coming to me for help, but I’m—“

            “Clarence,” I said now feeling all the eyes in the half-empty restaurant on me, “I’m here because I want to be and I don’t need—“

            “[Gumshoe]—“  His voice was approaching a full-throated yell.

            “My name is Leopold.”

            I jumped feeling a strong hand on my shoulder.  Turning, I saw Solomon and Calvin, red-faced and huffing.  Solomon spoke calmly.  “Is there a problem Leopold?”

            “No,” I said trying to convince myself too.  “I know—knew this man in—when I was—back then.”

            “I see.”  He smiled at me and turned his attention to Clarence.  “Sir, I don’t know what enmity exists between you two, but Leopold has come here to start a new life.  Part of that means he takes no part in any conflict that he used to be a part of.  This is a place of peace.”

            “I know what this is.  It’s a cult.  And I don’t know what you’ve done to [Gumshoe], but he is coming home with me.”

            “I see.  So it is your belief that Leopold is being brainwashed or taken advantage of?”  Seeing a definitive nod from Clarence, Solomon continued.  “Then he is yours for the day.  Take him out of here.  Talk to him.  And listen to what he tells you.”

            “Fine.”  Clarence started to stand.

            “One condition,” Solomon said through a smile.  “If he decides to come back here, you will let him.”

            “That’s fine with me.”  He unfolded his wallet and removed a couple bills, setting them down on the table.

            “Well, you two enjoy your day.”  Solomon said turning away from me. 

            After a second of standing looking from one to the other, Clarence looked at me.  “Are you coming?”

            Standing there I felt tugged in both directions.  It’s funny how life knows the perfect spot in which to punch you to make you feel small and inadequate.