Have you ever had the past abruptly enter your life?One minute I’m clearing tables at my favorite restaurant, the next I’m looking at the girl who made my high school years terrible.
I’m cleaning up at my little diner, which smells like fresh coffee when you walk in.
Our regulars know my name, favorite drink, and possibly many other things about me.
Since Beth, one of our waiters, is sick, I’m helping out today.
We took over her duties because she’s pregnant and beautiful, although she had a dizzy episode earlier.
We support each other without hesitation since we’re close like family.
Lost in washing a back table, I hear laughing. Kind of laughter that takes me back to high school. My gut twists, and I know who it is before I glance up.
It’s Heather.
Heather Parker—the queen of high school social life—ruined my life for four years.
She enters the restaurant like she owns it, laughing with her faithful sidekicks Hannah and Melissa.
Like nothing changed. They teased me about my dress, hair, and how I talked about leaving that place.
I freeze, gripping the fabric like a deer in headlights. I feel the usual heat up my neck even though they haven’t seen me. Whispers, sneers, and scornful eyes cut through without words.
Hi, isn’t that…? Heather pauses, searching the room.
Avoid turning here.
Of course she does.
Her evil grin appears as she stares at me. The exact one she wore when she ruined my day.
“Well, well. Look who’s here. Still washing tables? It seems you were nothing more.” Her strong, caustic voice rips over the restaurant hubbub.
Her buddies devour her false laughing as if it were the greatest thing they’ve ever heard.
Heat fills my cheeks, yet I scrape, trying to convince myself I’m different.
Heather persists. Did you dream about this in high school? Picking up after successful people?” She views me as disposable garbage. Their pals laugh and nudge each other like my humiliation is the highlight of their week.
She whips her fingers at me like a puppy. “Hi, waitress! Could you bring us water? Is it too complicated?
My heart beats and rage rises. I hear footsteps from behind as I prepare to answer.
Jack, the sous-chef, leaves the kitchen with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. “Hey, don’t speak to her that way,” he says calmly but with a warning that makes me apprehensive. He shields me, making me feel less alone.
Head chef Maria, hands wiped on her apron, stands behind him, ready to help. Her ferocious face indicates she’s ready to battle. “If you have an issue, take it elsewhere,” she says. “We don’t tolerate disrespect.”
Heather rolls her eyes, yet she seems surprised. She dismissively flicks her hair. “Come on. Just being honest. A little pitiful? Who cleans tables anymore? She’s broken, and you defend her?
Jack insists. “She works harder in a day than you will in your life.” His voice is low yet steady as he approaches. “Do you want that water, or will you keep embarrassing yourself?”
The crew surrounds me one by one, silently armoring me. Sarah, our bartender, approaches Jack and Maria with rag-wiped hands. She stares at Heather intently.
“We don’t accept that kind of attitude here,” Sarah says calmly and assertively. “If you can’t be respectful, switch businesses.”
Heather exhales loudly as she rolls her eyes. Oh, please.” Faking boredom, she waves her hand to dismiss. “We’ll just talk to your manager,” she scoffs, sure to provide news. Her pals nod, smugly expecting my collapse.
I’m done when it happens.
I move forward, feeling the weight of the moment, yet I sense something greater than dread. I wipe my hands on my shoulder towel and look at Heather.
“You already have,” I emphasise.
Heather’s smirk pauses, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “What?” she blinks, as if I did not spoken clearly.
“I’m the manager here,” I say, letting my words reverberate as she loses confidence. “I own this place.”
Her eyes widen, and the room feels sucked dry. She loses her smugness and panics. Heather is speechless for the first time.
A oppressive quiet follows. Nobody moves for a minute. A loud applause follows. I hear my crew applauding and yelling like we won the lottery.
Jack pats me on the back, Maria shouts, and Sarah whoops like her team scored the winning goal. The roar echoes throughout the restaurant, drowning out Heather’s weak attempts to save her pride.
Heather blushes in humiliation. She stands there, mouth half-open, searching for anything to cling onto, but there’s nothing. Her confidence has vanished.
Jack walks forward, pleased. “You’re looking at the best boss we’ve ever had,” he grips my shoulder. “She cleans tables because she cares about us. She could have abandoned Beth, but she wouldn’t.”
Sarah interrupts Heather as she fumbles to respond. She says, “Maybe it’s time for you to leave,” with arms crossed and a firm voice, staring at Heather. “We don’t need people with bad attitudes ruining our day.”
Heather loses all confidence. She looks around and sees her buddies leaving without laughing or supporting. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” she mutters, her fight gone. She knows it’s finished.
I get closer to provide closure, not glory. It’s alright, Heather. Perhaps next time, consider before you speak.” I speak honestly and without malice.
She seems shocked and disbelieving at me. I think Heather Parker is speechless for the first time.
They pack and run out the door without saying a word. As they go, the bell rings and the air lightens, as if a load I didn’t realize was removed.
The place is electric, and I smile uncontrollably. Sarah grins as Jack winks. It was something, she says, shaking her head. Talk about quick karma.”
A sense of pride makes me laugh. Years ago, I would have done anything to avoid Heather. But now? Now I stand here among individuals that appreciate me for who I am in my own space.
I giggle quietly, “Karma served with a side of justice.”
