Personal Yummy #98

In walks a thin, middle-aged, gray-haired man with glasses and the current issue of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. He smiles at us pleasantly, sits down in the back booth, props a menu up in his hands, and starts studying it.

In no time at all, here comes Cathy—suddenly. She hurriedly approaches the man, grabs his folded paper, reaches past him and across the table (in a shockingly easy manner, in fact, even though she is almost nine months pregnant), and, with as much force as I’ve seen from just about anyone, obliterates a fly on the wall, and with much success.

You would think that the squished fly would adhere to the wall, but it doesn’t. Rather, it falls to the table, right beside the man’s hands.

I’ve never seen such a look of repulsion and disgust on someone’s face, but there it is.

“Are you crazy?!” he yells, utterly taken aback. “How could you do something like that?”

He stares at her for a moment more, but then he yanks his Post-Gazette from her hand, finds his way out of the booth, stands up, and storms out the door.

Today is Cathy’s last day at The Grill—at least for now.

She shrugs her shoulders.

******

The above excerpt is from my coming-of-age novel—The Grill on Murray Avenue: A Story of Innocence—about the inhabitants of an unassuming bar-and-grill in Squirrel Hill, a vibrant neighborhood in the east end of Pittsburgh. The story is told by Jenna, a young waitress who dreams of becoming a professional dancer.