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proceedcyclone) wrote2022-06-04 09:55 am
proceedcyclone) wrote2022-06-04 09:55 am
Entry tags:
LJ Idol: 3 Strikes Week 9: All hat, no cattle
Jane glanced at her watch before turning her attention back to the entrance. She’d opted to sit on the side of the table facing the door and now she regretted it. Her eyes drifted back to her watch, even though she’d just looked a moment ago and she knew the time hadn’t changed. She sighed and tried to stretch and shake the tension out of her limbs and back, but it didn’t seem to make her feel any better.
“Ready to order, ma’am?” the waitress asked as she appeared at Jane’s elbow.
“N–not yet,” she stammered. “Um, can I have another glass of soda, please?” The caffeine probably wasn’t helping her nerves, but she felt awkward not ordering something. Her stomach rumbled as the waitress nodded and headed away from the table. Jane was starving, too nervous to eat earlier as she anxiously changed her clothes for the third time, but she wanted to avoid the awkward exchange--the feigned hurt followed by the pitiful excuses--that would undoubtedly ensue once her mother arrived if she had ordered without her.
“Why do I even care? Why do I keep setting myself up for this? It’s not like I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she chastised herself as she moved her napkin from one side of the table to the other, desperate for anything to catch her attention and avert her eyes from the door.
When she looked up again, she thought she glimpsed a flash of her mother’s long, silver hair behind a tall man with a baseball cap entering the restaurant, but when the woman’s face appeared on the side of the man, Jane felt oddly disappointed.
She thought of all the things she wanted to tell her mother, of all the things she should tell her mother and, for a moment, she actually believed that she could and would say them to her when she arrived as the anger burned brightened in her chest.
Then her mother burst through the door dramatically and rushed over to Jane’s table.
“I’m so sorry, dear. Traffic was an absolute nightmare today,” she said as she leaned over to give Jane an awkward hug. Jane wished she believed her, that she didn’t feel so insignificant. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
Jane opened her mouth to snarkly reply, but the waitress appeared at their table again eager to take their orders now that everyone had arrived and her motivation deflated as her mother rattled off her order to the waitress. Maybe, Jane realized, she wasn’t any better than her mother, after all.
“Ready to order, ma’am?” the waitress asked as she appeared at Jane’s elbow.
“N–not yet,” she stammered. “Um, can I have another glass of soda, please?” The caffeine probably wasn’t helping her nerves, but she felt awkward not ordering something. Her stomach rumbled as the waitress nodded and headed away from the table. Jane was starving, too nervous to eat earlier as she anxiously changed her clothes for the third time, but she wanted to avoid the awkward exchange--the feigned hurt followed by the pitiful excuses--that would undoubtedly ensue once her mother arrived if she had ordered without her.
“Why do I even care? Why do I keep setting myself up for this? It’s not like I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she chastised herself as she moved her napkin from one side of the table to the other, desperate for anything to catch her attention and avert her eyes from the door.
When she looked up again, she thought she glimpsed a flash of her mother’s long, silver hair behind a tall man with a baseball cap entering the restaurant, but when the woman’s face appeared on the side of the man, Jane felt oddly disappointed.
She thought of all the things she wanted to tell her mother, of all the things she should tell her mother and, for a moment, she actually believed that she could and would say them to her when she arrived as the anger burned brightened in her chest.
Then her mother burst through the door dramatically and rushed over to Jane’s table.
“I’m so sorry, dear. Traffic was an absolute nightmare today,” she said as she leaned over to give Jane an awkward hug. Jane wished she believed her, that she didn’t feel so insignificant. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
Jane opened her mouth to snarkly reply, but the waitress appeared at their table again eager to take their orders now that everyone had arrived and her motivation deflated as her mother rattled off her order to the waitress. Maybe, Jane realized, she wasn’t any better than her mother, after all.