Issue 03
Decades of Passing Jen Thornquest
“You’re wonderful.” As I looked over the receipts fastened to my daily server report, I slowed down for a moment and grinned. Scribbled at the top of ticket number 18 were those two words. As I read them I remembered the coy woman who autographed the ticket and my stomach fluttered. The fluttering in my stomach began earlier in the brunch shift when I remembered her subtle hello and eye contact over the top of her horn-rimmed glasses. Now that I think of it, her knees swayed gently as she asked how my morning was going. And my morning was going. Spilling over in a hustle and piping hot brunch plates. In the flow of drink deliveries, I made a point to slow as I approached her table and let the slowness allow me to notice how nicely she smelled. The fragrance of her perfume mingled with fresh fruit crepes and lemon curd. I felt a little dizzy. So I went back to the hustle. A catalog of warm emotions flipped in my belly: playful flirtation and misplaced confidence danced together with nervous wondering and doubt. Emotional rolodexing: first, it was doubt that asked me to the dance floor. Second, fear. Catalogs stacked as high as the ceiling could not begin to hide the decades of passing, covering and denying my tender attraction to the soft eyes and gentle curves of a woman. Did she think I was attractive? Was she hitting on me with her inviting conversation and charming compliments and does she really wonder where I purchased my silk neckerchief ? 62
