Friend

At the very last space at the bar, the seat that faces the area where servers pick up their drinks, there sits a pilsner glass, a unopened bottle of beer and a simple white candle.
It's Saturday night. The busiest night of the week. Night of good and bad. Organized chaos, happy satisfied customers, lots of special requests, barely enough sea bass specials, no more calamari, burned arm with boiling hot risotto...someone backed into my car. By all accounts a typical Saturday night.

Because I am the Owner/Chef, I have the privilege of stepping off the line after the mid evening rush. This usually happens between 8:30 and 9:00. Check the tables in the main dining room. This is the room that boisterous folks sit in due to the fact that it is here that you compete with kitchen noise and high volume instructions from the chef to the cooks. These folks enjoy experiencing a bit of the "back of house", they feel like they know just a little bit more than the rest of the diners. And they probably do.

A quick stop at the hostess station to chat with my manager extraordinaire (I say that with the UTMOST sincerity...she is AWESOME)A glance at the reservation computer to check the customer count. Wow, only 160 tonight? Felt like 200.

A turn to the left and I step behind the bar at the far left end. Usually every seat is taken so I slowly make my way down the line, stopping to talk to familiar faces, introducing myself to the unfamiliar, occasionally taking the hits when someone is disappointed with their meal...hey, it happens.

Chaotic stressful Saturdays that twist and tighten neck muscles and sciatic nerves.

Last stop...The end seat, to shake hands with Al. a few shared stories of the week. An observation about the large number of customers tonight. A heartfelt "thank you" for the vine ripened tomatoes he brought me from his garden, perfect in their non uniform size. The asparagus spears that were as big as drumsticks. The Whitman's sampler that he brought in for the girls, or the Hershey's kisses, or the heart shaped candies, or the daffodils, or the roses.

As we talk the muscles loosen in my neck, the sharp pain that shoots up my left leg is gone.
The glow of his eyes through his over sized, seemingly too thick spectacles tell me that he is truly happy to be here. He doesn't require much, just a few beers. Sometimes he orders food, sometimes not. Sometimes he has one or three friends sitting and chatting with him, sometimes not. He's OK either way. His demeanor quietly states, "Ill be here for a bit, come on over and say hi if you like." A demeanor that's been enjoyed for 7 years

In this industry loyal customers are sometimes referred to as "fixtures" I hate that term. Al is no fixture...he's family. I don't think Ive told him that... I have a feeling he knows.

Somehing is different,
Tonight my neck is tight,...my leg hurts.

There is no candy in the waitress station.

The stool at the end of the bar is empty.

...a pilsner glass turned upside down...a full bottle of beer, unopened, and a white candle.