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coldsandfluff · 2 years

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Peach Pie and Misfortunes (F/M, Original, Illness Care-Taking Fluff)

Another original oldie from the forum, this one about a 23 year-old woman whose car breaks down during a road trip, forcing her to work at a diner with an awful cold and a gruff chef to pay for repairs.

Peach Pie and Misfortunes

With the back of her hand, Catherine Miller pushed her soaked, dripping bangs away from her forehead, hoping to alleviate the amount of rain pouring down her face. A gesture she soon realized was futile, considering the heavy sheets of water spewing out of the darkened sky. She let out a bitter sigh and ducked back under the hood of her 2000 Toyota Camry.

She tinkered with the motor for a bit, then checked the infamous engine belt that she and her sisters had named Slacky Jack for its tendency to come loose during the hot summer months. Everything seemed to be in order, which meant bad news for Catherine. What she’d feared the most had come true: her battery had fought its last battle. Catherine cursed herself for not swapping it out before undertaking this road trip.

She wiped her greasy fingers on her shorts and slammed the hood shut, resting her hands on the cold metal for support. Stifling a cry of frustration, she clenched her teeth and let the rain sting her bare skin, soaking her tank top and jean shorts. Goosebumps rose on her arms as a chill shook her bones.

A tickle burrowed deep within her sinuses, taking her by surprise. She pressed the back of her hand to her nose firmly enough to squish her nostrils upward, but the itch overpowered her. Shielded by darkness and torrents of rain, Catherine let the sneezes consume her, bending at the waist as they escaped with urgency.

“EEH’TSSHIIOOOO! Ehh… IIIIIHH’TSHIOOO! ’TSSSHIIOOOO!!”

She shook her head, sending droplets of water back into the air, and took refuge inside the car. The door closed shut with a loud thunk, deadening the hissing sounds of the storm to a metallic drumming. She fished for her hoodie on the backseat, wondering why nobody had warned her that early summers in Northern California were so cold. And also that it could actually rain here.

Of all the times her hunk of metal had given up on accomplishing it’s sole purpose in life, this was the absolute worst. Her wallet and phone had been stolen while making a pit stop at a convenience store a few miles back. In the short time it had taken her to turn around and secure the nozzle back on the pump, a loitering teen nearby had rushed to the passenger door, opened it in a swing, grabbed her purse and ran. By the time Catherine had rounded the car towards the thief, the scumbag had jumped into the back of a pick-up truck and unceremoniously gave her the finger, a cloud of dust obscuring him as the truck sped off in a crunch of dirt.

All she had left were a few twenties hidden in the glove compartment, a granola bar and the beginning of a panic attack.

She looked out the window through the streaks of flowing droplets. The narrow road that lay ahead had been swallowed whole by darkness. She’d gotten a little lost after taking an exit promising a cheap motel, where she could regroup and call a friend or, more than likely, one of her sisters for help. But here she was now, no motel in sight, stuck on an old gravel road that probably no one ever used, surrounded by a thick forest. Who knew how long it would be before someone found her?

It’s alright, Catherine thought in the most calming tone she could muster, I’ll find a phone somewhere when the sun rises. I’m not stuck alone in the middle of nowhere, I’m just… temporarily disconnected. She lowered the back of her seat as much as she could and draped herself with the hoodie. Her long, damp hair stuck to her bare shoulders, sucking away any warmth her body produced.

All she could do now was try to sleep the night away.

* * *

A loud knock on the window woke Catherine with a start. Her heart pounding into her ears, she found herself staring at an older gentleman with a thick salt and pepper beard, smiling awkwardly at her behind the window. He looked like a typical fisherman: a worn fiddler cap on his head, a plump face damaged by the sun, a thin raincoat over a checkered shirt.

“Need help?” he said, his voice muffled by the glass separating them.

Catherine rubbed her eyes in an effort to wash away the sleep. Outside, the world was stuck in early-hour limbo, when darkness turns midnight blue. Wispy clouds bloomed across the sky, and trees surrounding the road still appeared as black as coal in the newborn dawn.

Catherine quickly rolled down the window, grateful that someone had stopped for her.

“Good morning,” she said as the cool morning breeze rushed into the car, raising goosebumps on her skin. Her voice cracked, and she noticed just how sore her throat was.

“Hello there,” said the man matter-of-factly. “I saw your car on my way to the docks. Thought I’d see if you’re out of fuel.” He bent down and produced a dirty jerrycan, sloshing it around to prove it wasn’t empty.

The pungent smell of gasoline infiltrated the car and hit Catherine square in the nose. Her eyes watered and a burning sensation blazed through her nostrils all the way up to the bridge of her nose. She ducked towards the passenger seat just in time to catch the sneezes in her elbow.

“EEH’TSHHIOOO! TSSHIOOO! Excuse me!”

“Bless’.”

“Thank you. I’m not out of fuel, but my car won’t start. I’m so glad you stopped by!” She extended her hand through the window. “I’m Catherine, by the way.”

The man shook her hand. “Arthur. Now let’s figure out what’s the matter with your clunker.”

* * *

An hour later, as the sun tried to pierce the thick fog that had rolled in, Catherine stood next to Arthur while he wrapped his jumper cables back into a tight knot, defeated.

“Your battery’s deader than a crane fly in a trout’s mouth.”

Catherine already knew, of course. They’d been trying to jump-start the battery for the last twenty minutes with no sign of resuscitation. She suspected that the connections were corroded as well. But hearing Arthur say it out loud made it official: Catherine was truly stranded. She’d have to run home with her tail between her legs, at the expense of her family. As always. She could already hear her sisters mocking her.

Shivering in the same shorts and tank top as the night before, Catherine zipped up her hoodie and pulled the hood over her head. The morning was almost as frosty as the night, and she regretted not packing a coat. As if on cue, she felt the characteristic, sudden burn of a sneeze spread through the back of her nose. Turning away from Arthur, who was too busy putting away the cables to notice her, she pulled the side of her hood loosely over her face as her breath hitched uncontrollably.

“Ehh… Eehhh… EHH’TSHHH! ‘TTSSHHIIOOO!”

“Bless’. Hope you’re not coming down with something. Got your hands full already.”

“God, I hope not,” Catherine said with a wet sniffle.

Arthur paused to look at her. “Not from around here are you?” He pointed at her shorts. “You need layers in the morning. Like this.” He pulled on the collar of his faded shirt, revealing another two layers of clothing underneath. He’d already shrugged off his raincoat, and beads of sweat pooled at his temples. A true West Coast native.

“I’ll take you to Lulu’s Diner,” he said. “Got a landline there.”

Catherine grabbed her luggage from the trunk of the Camry and lovingly patted the door as she closed it, resisting the urge to give it a vengeful kick. The car had been passed down, or rather dumped on, each of the three Miller sisters on their respective 16th birthday. Catherine had been the last one, and after six long years of driving it, she had grown accustomed to its quirks. She’d taken great care of it, restoring it after years of abuse from her sisters, which forced her to learn about car repairs and maintenance. But the Camry always found a way to let her down at the worst times.

“We’ll call a tow truck at Lulu’s,” said Arthur, gesturing for Catherine to join him in his truck.

As she sat on the squeaky passenger seat, the smell of wet fish and sea salt saturating the air around her, Catherine tried to convince herself that everything would be alright.

* * *

“I thought you were taking me to Lulu’s Diner?” Catherine asked as she exited the truck.

She stood outside an old brick building that had seen better days. Alone on the side of the road, it looked as if it had sprouted from the dusty ground underneath it. A few neat rows of cars flanked the restaurant, even though there were no delimitated parking spots.

But the sign over the large storefront window announced “Breakfast Bay,” although only a shadow of the “s” remained.

“People in town call it Lulu’s,” said Arthur as he held the front door for Catherine. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee floated out in the morning breeze.

“Is it the name of the owner?” Catherine asked as she entered, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer ambient light.

Arthur snickered, following her in. “Sort of.”

The sounds of sleepy chatter, spoons clanking in coffee mugs and the salty smell of sizzling bacon assaulted her senses. She looked around, surprised to see so many customers in such a desolate location. To reach this restaurant, Arthur and her had driven a good fifteen minutes on what Arthur had called the “main road,” with nothing but farms and trees dotting the landscape.

Was this the only breakfast dig in a thirty-mile radius, or did they serve such amazing food that it was worth the detour? Catherine instinctively reached for her purse to fish out her phone and check Yelp, but, of course, she had no purse. Or phone.

“Lulu!” shouted Arthur as he crammed his hat in his back pocket. A few heads turned in his direction, but there was no response. Arthur beckoned Catherine to follow him to the counter. “Must be stuck in the kitchen. Been pretty busy around here these days.”

Catherine took a seat on one of the reddish-brown vinyl stools and looked around. The décor appeared fairly minimalist, with white-painted walls and a dozen square wooden tables, the cheap kind that first-time restaurant owners seemed to favor. A few brightly colored posters adorned the walls: stylized drawings of cacti, hot peppers and palm trees.

“’Morning Arthur,” muttered a woman in her 60s standing behind the counter, a steaming pot of coffee in hand. She slid a mug in front of Arthur and filled it with amber liquid, leaving room for cream. “Who’s that?” she asked in a glacial tone, nodding towards Catherine.

Feeling a feathery tickle at the back of her nose, Catherine fixed her eyes on the counter, trying her best to keep any sneeze at bay. Her nose twitched, raising slightly at the corner of her left nostril. She bit her tongue and closed her eyes.

“Her name’s Catherine,” said Arthur while dumping sugar in his mug directly from the glass pourer. “Her car broke down on Malbea Drive.”

Catherine’s breath caught in her throat as she tried to stop it from hitching. She teetered on the verge of the impeding sneeze, hoping her nose would behave and shoo away the burn. But suddenly, she gasped and tipped her head back, then quickly burrowed her face into her elbow, turning as far to her side as she could.

“EEH’TSHIIOOOO! Hhh… Ehhxcu… Ex—Ehh… EEH’TSHIOOOO! Excuse me.”

A man’s voice from the kitchen growled a “bless you,” to the amusement of Arthur, who chuckled behind his raised mug.

“Yeah, well tell your friend to stop sneezing all over my counter,” said the server with a scowl before walking towards a nearby table. “And you,” she yelled towards the kitchen doorway as she passed it, “stop blessing everyone.”

Embarrassment and anger flared red on Catherine’s cheeks. “Is the service always this friendly around here?”

“Mabel’s like that with everyone. Got a heart made of ice.” Arthur took a sip of his coffee and glanced towards the kitchen. “Lulu’s a bit friendlier.”

A man wearing a dirty apron walked in from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “What are you mumbling about me, old man?” His dark brown eyes glanced towards Catherine, then back to Arthur.

“Wait, you’re Lulu?” asked Catherine, unable to hide the surprise in her tone. The man looked like he was in his early thirties, built like a fridge with a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm.

“My name is Luis. Luis Chavez. Some people call me Lulu.” He slung the towel over his shoulder. “Anyway, I’m very busy as you can see, so tell me what you need in as little words as possible.”

The back of Catherine’s neck prickled in protest at his dismissive tone. Her mother had instilled in her a natural politeness towards strangers. Although Catherine didn’t expect everyone she met to offer her a hug and a piece of homemade cherry pie, she had hoped for a warmer welcome from small-town America. Regardless, what kind of business thrived on treating their customers like Mabel and Luis did?

Before Catherine could explain her situation to Luis, Arthur mumbled a quick: “Car’s dead near the Walton’s farm and got her stuff stolen. Came here to ask if she can use your phone.”

Luis frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Mabel’s voice rising above the restaurant chatter. She was yelling at a disgruntled customer, suggesting a very unsavory place where he could stick the breakfast he was complaining about.

“Shit, I better take care of that,” said Luis, rushing towards the scene. “The phone’s in the back office down the hall,” he shouted over his shoulder.

Catherine, dumbfounded, looked at Arthur.

The old man shrugged and took another sip of coffee. “Welcome to Lulu’s Diner.”

* * *

The office was a mess. Piles of open letters and cash-out reports littered the desk in the center of the tiny, windowless room. Catherine maneuvered around stacks of boxes filled with napkins, rolls of receipt paper and other non-edible necessities for the diner. She spotted a phone cord on the ground and followed it until she located the device next to the computer monitor, hidden underneath an order form.

She sat down on the office chair and took a moment to compose herself. It was soothingly quiet and warm in the room, and Catherine wanted to savor it. Who knew when another whirlwind of bad luck would pounce on her as she struggled to get out of this mess?

Catherine was adamant that she had been cursed when she was younger. Beyond her usual clumsiness, she always seemed to find trouble in even the safest situations. Her specialty was to string a few complications that would domino into a proper catastrophe. Case in point: she’d recently lost her job because she’d accidentally left the window to her bedroom open during a storm, which had caused her phone charger to short due to water dripping on it, which had killed her phone, which meant that her alarm hadn’t rung, and because she’d woken up late, she’d ran to her car half-awake and had dropped her keys in a storm drain. She’d shown up to work so late that they’d fired her, mostly because she’d had many previous strikes caused by similar situations.

Her family called her the Queen of Bad Lucks, and sometimes Cathastrophe. She hated that name.

Catherine leaned back on the chair and pressed two fingers on either side of her head to massage her temples. She’d had a nagging headache since waking up, and her throat still bothered her. At this point, it could no longer be attributed to “morning dryness” or thirst. She was definitely coming down with something.

Of course she was.

She tested her nose by attempting to draw a quick breath through it, and noticed some congestion. Her sinuses protested with a sharp tickle that caused Catherine to mutter a “oh!” of surprise. Her eyes watered under the assault, and she clamped her nostrils shut between her thumb and index finger.

It seemed to keep the tickle at bay for about five seconds, but it came back with a vengeance, this time even deeper and sharper than before. Knowing there was no way she would win the fight, Catherine aimed loosely towards her elbow and gave in to the sneezes.

“EHH’TSCHHHIIIIIOOOOO!! Ehh… IIHH’TSCHIIIOOOOO!” Catherine gasped, her lungs filling to capacity once more as another sneeze overtook her. “’TSSCHIIIIIIIOOOOO!”

She groaned, knowing her moment of peace had ended.

If she wanted to call her family, it was now or never. The last time she’d seen them had been last Sunday, and they’d gotten into a big fight during their weekly family dinner. It was humiliating enough to ask for help after storming off; she didn’t need to sound vulnerable and sick on top of it. This cold was only going to get worse from here.

She briefly considered calling her parents, but they’d worry too much. Anna, the middle sister, tended to sympathize more with Catherine than their older sister Lauren. But Anna was pregnant with her first child. It seemed selfish to spring this stressful situation on her.

Catherine took a deep breath, hummed to test her voice, then dialed Lauren’s cellphone number.

“Lauren Miller.”

That was Lauren’s “professional” greeting when answering a phone call from an unrecognized number. Her icy and irritated tone sent a chill up Catherine’s spine.

“Hey Lauren, it’s Cath.”

“Oh, hey Cath. Wait, why are you calling from…” Shuffling noises echoed through the receiver, presumably as Lauren checked the caller ID on her cellphone. “Breakfast Bay? What the hell is that?”

Catherine hadn’t yet told anyone that she’d abruptly left on a road trip after their fight. Hoping to explain the situation in a gradual way instead of starting with “I’m about 2,000 miles away from Illinois right now…,” Catherine ignored the question.

“Listen, I—“

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” interrupted Lauren, as per usual. “You were really mad when you left, and I just want you to know that we mean well.”

“I know Laur, but right now—“

“It’s just frustrating to see you throw away your life like that and expect everyone to fix your problems.”

Catherine’s entire body stiffened at the words. “Yeah, you made it very clear during dinner. But I’m calling because—“

“As the baby of the family, maybe you feel like you get a pass because mom and dad spoiled you so much growing up, but at some point, Catherine, you will need to take your responsibilities and become a self-sufficient adult. You’re 23, not 13.”

Catherine’s blood boiled. She bit her lip, trying her hardest not to yell obscenities at her sister. The heat rushing to her face seemed to set off a new tickle in her nose, and she cursed the rhinovirus gods and their torturous humor.

“Mom was very sad that you left so early,” continued Lauren, unaware of the battle going on between Catherine and her sinuses. “She and dad just want you to be happy. They hope you can settle down, build yourself a nice life and have a family, just like me and Anna.”

Catherine fought her hitching breath, feeling the sneezes rushing through the length of her nose with an unbearable prickle. Her eyes half closed, she frantically pressed buttons on the phone, hoping to find the “hold” or “mute” option, but only managed to produce a deafening touchtone by accidentally pressing a few numbers.

“Ow! What are you doing? Hello?”

“Sorry I—Ehh… Hhh!… I accident... Ehhh... accidentally hit the n—numbehhh…” There was no escaping it. Catherine pressed her hand over the transmitter and bent to the side. She tried to stifle her sneezes, but her cold sneezes were always so strong that they escaped any sort of effort to contain them. “IIHH’NNNTGXXSCHIIIOOOO! EHH’NNTTXXSCHIOOOO!! NNNTGX’SSCHIIOOOO!”

Catherine kept her eyes closed, defeated and dizzy from trying to hold back the sneezes for so long. She rested her elbow on the desk and leaned her forehead into her hand, putting the handset back to her ear.

“Is this why you’re calling me? Catherine, you know you can order cold medicine online nowadays. I’m not going to drive all the way to your apartment for a box of Nyquil.”

“You know what Lauren?” Catherine said through gritted teeth, her voice already showing signs of congestion. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help. I’ll figure it out on my own. Screw you and your perfect little life.”

She slammed the phone down and leaned back, the chair creaking under the effort. She covered her face with her hands and willed herself not to cry. You can do this. You can figure this out. Think.

Luis stormed into the office, startling Catherine into an upright position. He stopped in his track and stared at her, as if he’d forgotten who she was.

“Didn’t know you were still here,” he grumbled, turning around to grab a receipt roll from one of the boxes.

That’s it! thought Catherine.

“Luis, you need to hire me,” she blurted.

Luis, still bent over a box, shot her a glance over his shoulder. “What now?”

“Hire me as a waitress. I’m a hard-working, polite and friendly woman. You need someone like me in your restaurant.”

“Are you saying that I should fire Mabel and hire you instead?”

“Well, not exactly but… I can definitely do a better job than her.”

Luis walked towards Catherine, throwing a paper roll from hand to hand. He seemed amused by the turn of events. “Do you have any experience?”

“Yes. I worked at a Chili’s, a McDonald’s, an Applebee's, a Korean restaurant near—“

“Alright, alright,” he interrupted her, already losing interest. “You’re hired. You start now.”

Catherine rose from the chair, a huge grin etched on her face.

Luis swept the room with his free hand. “Your first job is to find the employment form somewhere in this office and fill it out.”

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

Catherine slipped a ten-dollar bill into the deep pocket of her apron, a tip that her last lovely customer had left for her, along with a heartfelt “good luck!” scribbled on the check.

As it turned out, Luis’ diner was the only restaurant in a small village called Sequoia Bay. So far, every townie that had come through had been starved for details about Catherine’s story. Where had she come from? What was she doing here? Was she going to move into town? It was now five o’clock at night, and Catherine had recounted her misadventure a good dozen times since the morning. Most of the regulars had left a generous tip to help her out.

Catherine cleared the table, trying her hardest not to focus on her aches and pains. Her throat felt raw, as if she’d swallowed the green, prickly cactus adorning the wall in front of her. Her sinuses were throbbing, and she’d fought a tickle for the past four hours. Thanks to adrenaline and the fear of getting fired or sent “home” by Luis, she’d been able to stave off most of the sneezes, only releasing a few in the bathroom, far away from her boss. She’d been diligently washing her hands and not touching her nose, carrying the food carefully as to not breathe on it.

“Order up!” yelled Luis from the kitchen.

Catherine quickly dropped off the dirty plates in the kitchen sink, then walked back around to grab the enchiladas from the kitchen window ledge. The restaurant was filling up again for the dinner service, and Catherine absentmindedly watched customers file in. She had begun to notice that the majority of customers weren’t townies. It was obvious by their demeanor and the amount of questions they’d ask her.

“It’s amazing the amount of people coming to your restaurant from other towns,” mused Catherine as Luis worked the grill. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” said Luis distractedly.

“Get the word out. I mean, all these people probably drove over thirty minutes to get here. Is it like that every day?”

Luis looked up and stared at Catherine through the kitchen window. “You don’t think my food is worth it?”

“N—no it’s not that, I mean yes I think your food is delicious but—“

Luis chuckled, crow’s feet creasing at the corner of his eyes for a split second, then back to his serious, cold stare. “They’re filming a movie a few miles from here.” He pointed at the tables full of customers with his wooden spatula without looking, his eyes fixed on a sizzling piece of beef. “They’re all part of the crew.”

“The caterers gave them food poisoning on the first night,” mumbled Mabel as she yanked the plate of enchiladas out of Catherine’s hand. “So these assholes have been invading the diner and complaining about everything. Buncha pricks.”

“Mabel, watch it,” growled Luis. “If I see you start a fight with another customer, Catherine will be replacing you. Permanently.”

Mabel scoffed, giving her signature dirty look to Catherine. “This little twig wouldn’t survive a week in here without me.” She whipped around, the enchiladas sliding dangerously close to the edge of the plate, and stormed off.

Catherine rolled her eyes and sniffled, feeling the tickle twinge in the back of her nose. Thinking it would eventually subside again, leaving her with congestion instead, she didn’t worry too much and started heading towards a table of customers ready to order.

“Wait, Catherine, can you get something for me?” asked Luis in an irritated tone. He added almost to himself, “I forgot the damn can of tomatoes again.”

“Sure.”

Catherine walked into the brightly lit kitchen and gasped. The tickle exploded in her nose, sending a shiver down her neck. She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes from squinting. Her breath caught in her throat and she panicked, knowing that Luis stood only a few feet from her.

“They’re in the pantry,” Luis said, his back to her. “Big cans of stewed tomatoes. I just need one.”

Catherine pressed a knuckle under her nose and located the “pantry,” a small alcove at the end of the kitchen, behind the commercial walk-in fridge. She rushed towards it, passing a few metal shelves filled with cooking utensils. Once she was safely hidden from view in the corner, she realized that hiding wouldn’t be enough. Luis would still hear her.

On the brink of sneezing, as she tilted her head back, her chest rising with a final breath, Catherine fumbled around blindly on the shelf looking for something to make a noise. She gripped a stack of large stainless steel mixing bowls just as she bent down to sneeze, throwing them on the ground in a loud cacophony of clanging metal.

“EHH’TSSSHHHIIIIIOOOOO!! IIHH’TSSHHHHIIIOOOOO!”

The bowls rolled around long enough to cover both of her sneezes, but Luis rushed to the alcove just as Catherine was straightening up, giving her no time to recuperate.

“Shit,” he said as he placed his foot on the smallest bowl still rolling on the ground, restoring a semblance of silence. He looked at Catherine with steely eyes. “You OK?”

Catherine nodded, keeping her eyes on the ground. “Sorry, boss.” In hindsight, this hadn’t been the greatest idea. She’d successfully hidden her sneezes from Luis, but now looked like an incompetent waitress who couldn’t even grab a can of tomatoes without causing chaos.

She braced for the storm.

Luis sighed and bent down to retrieve the bowls. “Just bring the can over to my station.” The coldness of his voice threatened to freeze the air around them. Without another glance towards Catherine, Luis turned around and dumped the bowls in the sink before walking back to his grill.

Catherine relaxed a little. It could have been worse. At least for once in her life, she hadn’t accidentally caused a mess.

She chose to see it as a victory.

* * *

“You’ll take the afternoon shift,” said Luis as he locked up the restaurant, Catherine standing outside beside him. “Mabel has the morning shift and leaves at 3 pm. Come in at 2 pm until close to give us an hour overlap.”

Through the window, Catherine could still make out the large clock over the kitchen in the darkened restaurant. It was 10:20 pm, and she was exhausted. Her throat felt like sandpaper, her sinuses like cement, and her nose had started to run a little. But in spite of her state, Catherine hadn’t done such a terrible job. Sure, she’d dropped a couple of plates and mixed up a few orders, but considering Catherine’s history, this constituted a “good day.” And since it was her first day, she hoped the boss would see it as beginner’s jitters and give her a break.

Luis pocketed the keys and glanced at her. “Sorry for the long shift today. I’ll pay you for the overtime.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I really need the money.” She turned her head towards her Camry, sitting in the parking lot like an abandoned wreck. Arthur’s mechanic had towed it there in the afternoon, along with an estimate of the cost to replace the battery. “Actually,” said Catherine, “if you need me in the morning too, I’d be happy to come in for a full-day shift.”

She instantly regretted her suggestion, but she was eager to get back on the road and prove her worth. So what if she had to work twelve-hour shifts for a week? Her replacement credit card wouldn’t arrive for another six to ten days anyway. The bank would send it to the diner’s address, so Catherine had to stick around no matter what. Plus, she’d fantasized all day about calling her family once everything was resolved, imagining herself explain how she’d gotten herself out of this mess alone. Having to work long hours on her feet added a challenge that would surely garner even more sympathy and awe from them. “You worked eighty hours in a week to pay for your car repairs?” she could hear them say. “How could we even doubt your commitment and capabilities as an adult?”

Obviously they wouldn’t say it like that, but they would totally think it.

“You sure you want to work that much?” asked Luis with a smirk. “You might regret it in a few days.”

“Isn’t this what you do every day, six days a week?” said Catherine, shivering from the cold night breeze.

“Seven. We’re open on Sunday too.” He started walking towards the back of the restaurant, in the opposite direction to the parking lot. “If you think you can handle it, I can use your help.”

Catherine’s eye twitched. “Of course I can handle it.” Her own confident tone surprised her.

“See you tomorrow at 7 am then,” Luis said without turning around, slowly disappearing into the darkness.

Catherine watched him go, confused. “Where are you going?” she shouted towards the night.

“Home,” his voice echoed in the silence.

Still standing under the safety of the diner’s porch light, Catherine listened to the moths fling their bodies on the bulb, watching their tiny shadows dance at her feet. Maybe Luis had forgotten that her car was broken, or assumed it had been repaired during the day. She looked back towards the spot where he’d disappear, wondering if she should run after him and ask for a ride to a motel.

She shook her head. No, she would do this alone. Plus, the only money she had was the tip she’d earn for the day. She fished the bills from her apron pockets and counted. Looking up, she made a quick calculation, mumbling numbers under her breath. She wouldn’t get her first paycheck until the end of the week, but with the tip she was earning, she’d be able to fix up her car in about three days. Then, she’d wait for her credit card, get a nice cash cushion for the rest of the trip, and get the hell out of here.

In the meantime, sleeping in her car seemed like the best idea.

Catherine walked to the Camry, darkness swallowing her as she left the only bubble of light in the vicinity. She rubbed at her tickly nose, sniffling wetly. She opened her trunk, unzipped her luggage and pulled out the only pair of jeans and two sweaters that she’d brought along, thankful that she’d thrown clothing haphazardly in her bag before she’d left her apartment. “Organized” Catherine, if there even was such a thing, wouldn’t have planned to bring anything warm on a summer road trip.

The tickle in her nose increased, and as she slammed the trunk shut, she launched forward in a fit of sneezes, holding onto the car for support.

“Ehh… EH’TTSSHHIOOOOOO! ‘TTSSHIIIOO!”

She sniffled and looked around, then quickly changed into her jeans and one of the sweaters, keeping the other one under her arm. The tickle in her nose still bothered her as she unlocked the door to her car and lied down on the back seat, using her second sweater as a makeshift blanket.

She took a deep, quivering breath.

“EHH’TSHIIOOOOOO! God daahhh… hhh… damniiiih… IIH’TSSHIIOOOO! Ugh!”

Catherine fished a few napkins from the center console and blew her nose, surprised at how runny it had suddenly become. She groaned and let herself fall back on the seat.

Hiding this damn cold from Luis might turn out to be a tad more difficult than she’d hoped.

* * *

“IIHH’NNNGTXXSSSHIIIOOOO! EHH’NNTTXXSHHHIOOOO!”

Catherine’s sneezes echoed in the empty bathroom of the diner. She blew her nose and leaned towards the mirror to inspect her chapped nostrils. It wasn’t a pretty sight—all red and irritated from the rough toilet paper and napkins she’d been using all morning.

She bent down to retrieve her makeup bag hidden under the sink and twisted open the cap of the concealer. But even lightly patting a concealer-covered finger around her nostrils was enough to set off another irresistible itch.

“M—my goohhh… god—Hhh! EHH’TSSSHIIIIOOOO! IHH’TSSSSHHHIIOOOOO!”

Rolling her eyes, she dabbed a wad of toilet paper around her nose, careful not to remove too much makeup.

It was only 10 am, and she’d already ran to the bathroom to sneeze about four times. Thankfully, the bathroom sat at the other end of the diner, as far away from the kitchen—and Luis—as possible.

“Where did Catherine go again?” Mabel yelled, her screechy voice traveling through the door.

Catherine zipped up her makeup bag and threw it under the sink, then washed her hands in hot water, soaping up to her elbows and rubbing vigorously. The skin on her hands had turned red from washing them so much.

“I’m here,” Catherine said as she came out.

“You better start working like you mean it if you’re after my job,” hissed Mabel as she walked passed her, a tray filled with glasses of water.

Catherine ignored her and concentrated on clearing tables and bringing menus to new customers. She didn’t have the energy to deal with the cloud of negativity emanating from Mabel. Only four hours until the end of the old harpy’s shift, she thought. Dealing with the dinner rush alone was better than having to hear Mabel’s complaints and feeling her murderous glare boring a hole through her back.

When the jingle of the door bells announced a new customer, Catherine was relieved to see a friendly face: Arthur. He walked up to the counter where she was pouring a fresh batch of coffee into her pot.

“’Morning,” he said, his cheeks kissed red from the sun.

“Good morning!” Catherine smiled, sliding a cup of steaming coffee in front of him. “I know I’ve said it a million times, but thank you for your help yesterday. I owe you a lot.”

Arthur nodded and tipped his hat down. “It was nothing. Anybody would have done the same.”

Catherine eyed Mabel and snickered. “Still. I don’t know h—ehh… how I would ha—hhh—ve…”

A tickle seized Catherine’s sinuses abruptly. She scrunched up her nose, fighting an intense need to rub the itch away with her hand. Prickles covered the inside of her nose like a rushing sea wave, so unbearable that a shiver wracked her body.

“You alright?” asked Arthur, eyeing her curiously.

Catherine tried to control her breathing, avoiding any sudden movement or intake of air that could set off the sneeze. “Yehh—yep I’m fiiihhne.”

Finally, after a few torturous seconds, the tickle receded to a manageable background annoyance. Catherine breathed out, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. She turned her attention back to Arthur. “Can I get you anything to eat?” As the words escaped her mouth, she winced at how congested she now sounded.

And apparently, Arthur had noticed. “That cold of yours got worse,” he stated.

Catherine shushed him, turning towards the kitchen window to see if Luis had heard. Thankfully, the boss seemed completely concentrated on his task, surrounded by sizzling eggs, bacon and sausages.

“What are you shushing me for?” asked Arthur with a smirk.

Catherine blushed, grabbing a notepad and pen from her apron in an effort to look nonchalant. “I just don’t want Luis to know. So, what can I get you?”

“Fisherman’s breakfast, over easy, white bread with extra butter. Don’t know why you’re afraid of Luis knowing you have a c—“

“SShhh!” Catherine leaned over the counter towards Arthur and lowered her voice to an almost whisper. “I don’t want to get sent… ‘home’ I guess. Or fired. I need—“

“What are you two whispering about over there?” asked Mabel as she approached the counter, crossing her arms. “You plotting against me? After all these years Arthur, I can’t believe you’d be in on this.”

Arthur raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, but I ain’t got anything to do with anything.” He shook his head and got up. “I’ll be having my breakfast over there, Catherine,” he pointed to a table near the front window and shuffled over to it, eager to get away.

“See what you’ve done now?” tutted Mabel before snatching the pot of coffee out of Catherine’s hand and tending to her customers.

Catherine closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rub them or press her fingers on her sinuses to relieve the pressure. All she wanted right now was to be back home in her tiny apartment, cuddled under her blanket with a cheesy movie, sipping hot chamomile tea and feeling sorry for herself.

Her enthusiasm towards fixing this disaster without help wavered. Why did she always end up in situations like these? Once, during a brunch with her sisters, Catherine had complained about her curse, asking what she’d done to the world to deserve so much bad karma, and Lauren had told her to stop believing that she was only a victim. “It’s simple causality,” she’d said. “Whatever happens to you isn’t some kind of supernatural bad luck. YOU are causing these events. YOU are responsible.”

Catherine often pondered Lauren’s claim. She wasn’t wrong. Hadn’t Catherine left on a road trip without replacing the battery, even though she knew it was old? She had left her purse on the passenger seat without locking the doors while she filled up at the gas station. She’d slept in her wet clothes, in the cold after getting stranded on the side of the road. It was all her fault, and maybe she deserved this. Maybe she deserved all the bad luck because she kept making poor decisions.

Luis’ voice pierced through Catherine’s musings. “Catherine!”

She jumped and turned towards the kitchen window. Luis was staring at her with stern eyes, as if he’d been calling her name for a while.

“Sorry!” she said, rushing to join him in the kitchen. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to start plating the desserts yourself.” He expertly flipped a few eggs, then pointed at the fridge behind him with the spatula. “Pies and cakes are in the fridge. Just cut a piece, put it on the plate, take the bag of whipped cream and pipe some on the side, a few shavings of chocolate on top—from the container next to the whipped cream. Ice cream is in the freezer in the back of the fridge. Got it?”

Catherine nodded, committing everything to memory.

“Good. Table three wants a peach pie, no ice cream.”

“Peach pie, coming up.”

Catherine pulled on the heavy door of the walk-in fridge. Cold air rushed around her, blowing a few strands of her hair away. She shivered, walking in the frosty cubicle and headed straight for a shelf filled with deliciously glazed fruit pies. She admired the handy work, her stomach rumbling. She’d picked at a couple of toasts and eggs that Luis had prepared for her at 7 am, but hadn’t been feeling hungry enough to eat much of it. Pies, however, Catherine could always eat.

She grabbed a peach pie with one hand, then balanced the whipped cream bag on the chocolate shaving container in her other hand, miraculously carrying everything to the island in the center of the kitchen without dropping it. She then sliced a generous portion of the glistening pie and delicately placed it in the center of a dessert plate.

“My god, it looks so good,” she mumbled to herself.

“Thanks,” said Luis, still working at the grilling plate, his back to Catherine.

“Wait, you made all these pies yourself? I thought you got them from a bakery or something.”

Luis chuckled. “I make them fresh every morning.”

“Geez.” Catherine raised her eyebrows. “When do you ever sleep?” She picked up the piping bag and hovered nervously over the plate. She’d never piped whipped cream in her life, or even baked anything, unless dropping a few Toaster Strudel in the toaster counted. And even then, she always messed up the icing, giving up halfway through and squeezing out the rest of it one messy blob.

“Want me to show you?” asked Luis, wiping his hands on his apron.

Catherine bit her lip, not daring to admit that she needed help.

“Here,” he said, reaching for the bag. Catherine relented, giving him the whipped cream and stepping aside. She watched him twist the top with one hand and guide the tip with the other in a graceful, quick swirl. “The key is to apply pressure at the top, but be gentle.” He pushed aside the pie and grabbed a clean plate, then repeated the procedure to show her. “Like this. Now you try.”

Catherine grabbed the piping bag, her hand brushing up against Luis’. She could feel his warmth against her arm as they stood close to each other. Her heart pounded in her chest, knowing that he’d be watching her closely. With her luck, she’d press too hard and whipped cream would fly everywhere, then Luis would slip on it and break his leg. And then fire her.

“Come on, try it.” His voice wasn’t gentle, but still a lot nicer than usual, which made Catherine feel a little better. She took a deep breath through her nose, forgetting her cold. As soon as she heard the congestion, she stopped, hoping Luis hadn’t heard. She glanced sideways at him, but he was still watching the plate, waiting for her to give it a try. She bit her lip and twisted the top, then applied pressure and guided the flow of whipped cream over the plate.

“Could be worse,” Luis said. “Try again. Rounder this time.”

Catherine smiled. This was actually fun! She looked at her mound of whipped cream, which was narrow and crooked, but much better than she’d expected.

As she twisted the top again, she felt a familiar prickle in her nose. She gasped, panicked. The tickle traveled fast and it soon felt like tiny fireworks exploding in her sinuses. She backed away from the plate, the piping bag still in her hands. Her eyes darted left and right, trying to devise a plan, but the sneezes were coming hard and fast.

“Hurry up, I gotta go back to my eggs,” said Luis impatiently.

“Uhmm, I—hhh… I f—forgot tooohh… hehhh… H—Hold on…”

She shoved the bag into Luis’ hands and turned around, feeling her eyes close as her body prepared for the sneezes. She grabbed the fridge’s handle and pulled, rushing inside and letting the heavy door close behind her. It made a suction sound as it sealed behind her, and Catherine hoped it would be enough to contain the sounds. The cold air tipped her over the edge, and she buried her face in her sweater’s sleeve, trying her hardest to muffle the release.

“EEH’GNNXXXSHIIOOOO! Hhh… IHH’GNNXXXSHIIIIIOOO!”

When she heard the door open behind her, Catherine quickly straightened up and made herself look busy.

“What are you doing?”

Catherine turned around. Luis stood in the doorway, looking confused.

“Oh I… I was just looking for the…” She twisted her head around trying to locate something she might have forgotten. “The chocolate shavings! I forgot the chocolate shavings.”

Luis gave her a puzzled look. “It’s on the island. You brought it out with the rest of the stuff.”

“Oh. Yeah. I did.” She sidestepped him to get out of the fridge, grabbing the container of chocolate shavings from the counter. “There it is.”

“Right.” Luis scrutinized her without saying anything. After a long, awkward moment, he finally walked back to his grilling plate. “Just get the pie to table three.”

Catherine closed her eyes, mortified. She grabbed the dessert and walked back to the dining area, humiliation seeping into her bones, as cold as dread.

This day would never end.

* * *

At around 3:30 pm, a lull settled in the restaurant. The afternoon sun soaked the floor of the empty diner, coloring everything in a orange hue. Catherine sat at a table with a dozen sugar dispensers in front of her, consolidating them and topping them off.

Mabel had ended her shift an hour and a half ago. Luis was holed up in his office, making calls. Catherine could finally breathe easy. She kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes, grimacing in pain as she stretched her legs and rolled her ankles around. She finally allowed herself to massage her temples, knowing no one could see her. If only she’d had a working car, she could have swung by a convenience store or—more likely in this small town—a general store for some ibuprofen and cold medicine. Alas, she was stuck in the diner for another few days.

She resumed pouring sugar in the dispensers, mesmerized by the soft rustling sound of sugar crystals pooling in the center of the glass jar, like a miniature sand dune.

When she felt a tickle, she let it wash over her, riding the burning sensation as it tipped her head back in a gasping breath. She caught the harsh, exhausted sneeze into her elbow.

“EHH’TTSSCHIIIOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

Panic seized Catherine at the throat, strangling the tiny gasp that escaped her mouth. She turned around to see Luis standing next to her with a plate. He pushed a few of the sugar dispensers away and placed the plate down in front of Catherine. It was a slice of his peach pie.

“You barely ate anything at lunch,” he said in his customary gruffy tone. “You need to eat something if you want to last all day.”

A small “thank you” was all Catherine could muster.

“I’ll be in the kitchen prepping for the dinner rush,” Luis said before walking away.

Catherine waited until he disappeared into the kitchen, embarrassment dripping down her back like a cold sweat. She’d worked so hard all day to hide her sneezes from Luis, and the one time she’d assumed she was safe…

But it was only one sneeze, she thought. People sneeze all the time! Luis probably didn’t think anything of it.

She glanced at the slice of pie sitting in front of her. That would certainly make everything better.

Catherine closed her eyes as the first bite hit her tongue. The delicate, refreshing flavor of the glazed peach mixed with the crunch of the buttery crust instantly uplifted her mood. It sent her back in time when, at 14 years old, she’d spent a summer in Georgia at her best friend’s grandma’s house. Every night, they would eat a piece of homemade peach pie on the porch, watching the sun set over the orchard.

It was one of Catherine’s most peaceful memory. It had been a blissful summer, without so much as a snag, as if her curse had been lifted for a magical month of her life.

Catherine brought the empty plate back to the kitchen, adding it to the overflowing pile of dishes in the sink. Luis was busy chopping veggies on the island, his knife hitting the wooden board in a sharp staccato.

“My compliments to the chef,” she said with a smile. “It was delicious.”

Luis nodded without looking up, concentrating on the movement of his hands. Catherine stood awkwardly in front of the sink watching him, waiting for him to engage in conversation in some ways, even though she knew it wouldn’t happen. She’d only been there for two days, but Luis’ withdrawn personality stood out like a sore thumb. It was hard not to take it personally.

Turning on the hot water tap, she set about filling the dishwasher. It wasn’t exactly her job, but the pile of dishes threatened to fall over any moment. She could always refill the sugar dispenser later.

They both worked without talking, the silence between them only broken by plates and utensils clanging together, and the crunch of celery getting sliced. During a quick break to rehydrate herself, Catherine winced in pain as she took a sip of water. She cleared her throat to try and soothe the rawness, but it only exacerbated it.

Once she had finally cleared the sink, a wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she felt like crying. She blinked away a few tears before they fell, heading out of the kitchen so that Luis wouldn’t catch her feeling sorry for herself.

“Catherine,” he said to her as she was leaving.

Catherine stopped. “Hm?”

There was a moment of silence, as if Luis didn’t know what to say, or how to say it. Even his knife held still. “I uh…” he began, before pausing and leaving another silence hang between them. “Thanks for cleaning the dishes.”

“Sure, no problem.”

* * *

Once the dinner rush picked up, a never-ending stream of customers filed in, keeping Catherine and Luis as busy as ever. It became harder for Catherine to hide her cold as it worsened over the course of the evening. Her nose was constantly twitching and running, causing her to sniffle more than she liked, sometimes in front of customers. She even sneezed twice in the dining area while trying to get to the bathroom, but thankfully, both times she’d been very close to the back of the restaurant and the ambient noise in the diner had been loud enough that Luis couldn’t have heard her.

At least the customers are nice, she thought as a trio of middle-aged cameramen explained the intricacies of their job to her, even revealing a few scandalous moments they had witnessed over their career. Normally, Catherine would have wanted to hear more, but not only was the diner full, she also needed to sneeze. Very badly.

Not wanting to be rude, she nodded along to the story, holding her breath steady and scrunching up her nose as subtly as she could, but the tickle persisted. It sent its feathery, tangled roots up her nose, causing a light shiver to run down her back. When she knew she could no longer resist it, she interrupted the gentlemen, her face red with embarrassment.

“S—so sorry but I—ehhh… I’ll be—ehhh right baaahhck…”

She turned towards the bathroom, pressing her fist under her nose and rubbing hard, which only seemed to throw fuel on the fire. Knowing that she would never get to the bathroom in time, she headed for the closest room to her: the office.

Her breath hitched as she passed the counter, blinded by her squinting eyes. In her hurry, she misstepped and lost her balance, grabbing on to the counter to recover and accidentally toppling her glass of water near the cash register. It tumbled down on the ground, splashing water everywhere. Thankfully, as it was made of plastic, it bounced on the ground a few times without breaking.

Catherine didn’t stop to survey the damage. She made a beeline for the office down the hall and barely had time to swing the door shut before her lung sucked a huge gasp of air. She bent down with the force of the fit, the sneezes coming out one after the other without a break.

“EHH’TTSSSSHHHIIOOOO—TSSHHHIIOOOOO—TSSSHHHHH!!... HHhh!! IIH’TSSSSCHIOOOOO!”

When she was finally done, Catherine straightened up, dizzy and panting. She sniffed to contain her runny nose and scanned the room for tissues, locating a box near the printer in the corner. She grabbed a few tissues and blew her nose, thankful for their softness compared to the toilet paper she’d been using.

When she heard the door knob twist behind her, she panicked, throwing the wad of used tissues in the bin next to the desk and spinning around to face the door, trying not to look guilty.

Luis appeared in the doorway, looking more curious than furious.

“What’s going on?”

Catherine opened her mouth to reply but no sound came out. She was vividly aware of her hot crimson face, her irritated nose that most likely bore no more makeup after wiping it with the tissues, and the frightened expression that she couldn’t hide.

“I—I thought I heard the phone ring,” she blurted out, pointing at the phone as if accusing it of a murder.

Luis raised an eyebrow, looking around the room before studying her for a moment.

Taking his silence for a show of skepticism, she piled on her lie. “I thought it was the mechanic so I rushed here because I, umm… I just…” she trailed off, running out of steam.

Luis took a few steps towards her, and Catherine could feel herself shrivel up inside. He stopped a couple of feet in front of her. “Everything alright?”

A flash of heat rose from her neck to her already hot cheeks. “Yes. I’m fine.”

Luis crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think you are.”

“I’m just tired,” Catherine replied cooly, her fear morphing into indignation. Who was he to tell her how she felt? “I’ll be fine.”

And of course, because nothing ever came easy for Catherine, the tickle returned with a vengeance. It was so strong that she gasped and took a stumbling step back, her nose irresistibly scrunching up. She lifted her arm over her face to cover her nose with her elbow, and her upper body folded down under the force of the release.

“EEH’TTSSHIIOOOOOO!”

“Bless you,” said Luis in an even tone.

He walked around her and grabbed the box of tissues before passing it to Catherine. She pulled a few tissues and wiped her nose sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? I knew you were sick the moment you walked in here this morning.” He pointed to her throat. “I can hear it in your voice.”

Catherine kept the tissues over her nose, too mortified to even move.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to hide it from me, but you’re doing a poor job at it.” He sighed, putting his hands on his hips. “Listen, I don’t care if you’ve got a cold. You think I never worked here with a damn cold? It’s not like I have a replacement.” He paused and looked at her, his feature finally softening just a little bit. “Look… Do you have a fever?”

Catherine shook her head no, lowering the wad of tissues. Luis’ eyes hardened again, and he reached his hand towards her face, placing it on her forehead. He looked up as if concentrating on her temperature.

“You don’t feel too warm.” He removed his hand and leaned back to sit on the corner of his desk. “Listen, as long as you don’t have a fever or a cough, you can work. But wash your hands often.” He waggled a finger at her. “Constantly. Obviously cover your sneezes properly. And if you feel worse, let me know.”

Catherine nodded.

“Back to work then,” Luis said.

A few minutes later, after washing her hands thoroughly and cleaning up the spilled glass of water, Catherine heard the service bell at the kitchen window. She found a cup of steaming tea with lemon slices in it and a dipping saucer full of honey. Luis glanced at her and nodded before returning his attention to his pot of chili.

Catherine smiled and took a sip.

* * *

The cups of tea kept coming almost every 45 minutes on the dot, and Catherine started wondering if he’d set a timer. It was a surprisingly caring gesture coming from someone like Luis, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

However, now when she had to sneeze, she simply went to the hallway next to the kitchen, grabbed a handful of tissues from the box perched on a shelf, and sneezed into it. Another strange quirk from Luis: he would bless her every single time, no matter how many sneezes in a row there were.

Finally, when the dinner rush ended and only a couple of late-night snackers sipped their coffee in the pinkish glow of the setting sun, Catherine allowed herself to sit on a stool at the counter and lay her head on the cold surface. She closed her eyes for a moment, and jerked up when she heard the clink of a saucer being placed in front of her face. Luis had brought the next cup of lemon tea directly to her.

“Go rest,” he said, looking around the diner. “I can take it from here.”

It was only 8 pm, two hours before closing time.

“It’s OK, I can finish the shift,” said Catherine, her voice now a wreck.

Luis shook his head. “You need some sleep if you want to get better. Go to your hotel room and we can see how you feel tomorrow morning.”

Catherine looked down, embarrassed. “Umm. I don’t… I don’t have a hotel room. My car is broken and I still haven’t received my new credit card.”

Luis brows furrowed. “What do you mean? Where did you go last night?”

“I—ehh...” Her nose twitched as yet another irresistible tickle seized her sinuses. She waved a hand in front of her face as if to fan away the sneeze. “H—Hold on… ehhh…”

Luis placed a few napkins in Catherine’s hands. She took them and swiveled around on the stool, burying her nose in the napkins. “EH’TSSHIIOOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

“Ehh… EH’TSSSHIIOOOOOO!”

“Bless y—“

“’TSSSHHIIIOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

“Excuse me,” said Catherine, congestion dripping from her words. “As I was saying… I slept in my car last night.”

Luis’ usually expressionless face showed a hint of surprise. “Oh.” He shifted on his feet, his gaze fixed on a point behind Catherine. “Alright, go rest in the coffee shop until closing. I’ll figure something out.”

The “coffee shop” was actually a single beat-up brown leather loveseat sitting in the far right corner of the restaurant, where customers could sit down if they wanted a quick cup of coffee and the daily newspaper to start their day. Catherine hadn’t seen anyone use it yet. Probably because it felt out of place and a little cramped, wedged between the end of the counter and the wall.

But right now, sitting down on a couch sounded like heaven to Catherine. She moved her cup of tea to the small coffee table in front of the couch, then flopped down on the torn cushions, her body sinking in. Catherine let out a satisfied sigh, enjoying the heavy embrace of the worn leather, and fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Catherine woke herself up sneezing.

“EEH’TSHHHIIOOOO!” She straightened up on the couch, rubbing her nose with her knuckle, but her breath caught in her throat again, fueled by the persistent tickle. “Ehh… EHH’TSHHHIIIOOOO!”

“Bless you. Twice.”

When Catherine opened her eyes, Luis stood in front of her with a box of tissues extended towards her.

“Thank you.” She grabbed the box, fishing a few tissues to blow her nose while Luis sat in front of her on the coffee table. It was made of a thousand small pieces of colorful ceramic arranged together in different patterns. Catherine finished wiping her nose, then pointed at the table. “Did you make that yourself?”

Luis looked down to see where she was pointing. “No, my aunt did. She’s pretty clumsy and keeps breaking the plates she brought with her to the US. They were hand painted by someone in our family, so she kept all the pieces over the years until she had enough to cover this coffee table. And a full dinner table, a few flower pots and way too many trivets.”

Catherine chuckled. “I can relate. My family calls me Cathastrophy. I’ve been fired from at least three jobs for breaking something valuable.” She slapped her hand on her mouth. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

Luis shrugged. “So far you haven’t broken anything valuable.”

“Is that a challenge? Because I have to warn you, it won’t end well and nobody will win.”

A rare smile appeared on Luis’ face, brightening his eyes. For a moment, Catherine felt an opening between them, as if the drawbridge of his fortress had been lowered. Yet there was still a distance, like an iron gate moored firmly to the ground.

Catherine looked around, realizing there were no customers left in the restaurant. “How long did I sleep? Is it closing time?”

“We’ve got about forty-five minutes before closing. I’m just taking a small break.”

“I better start cleaning the tables and the floor then,” Catherine said, lifting herself from the couch, but Luis put a soft hand on her shoulder, slowing her down.

“No, you keep resting here. I’ll take care of it.” His voice was back to his natural bossy tone.

“I’m fine. The nap really helped, I have more energy now.”

“No,” he got up, putting an end to the argument. “Once I’m done, you can sleep at my place, or I can drive you to a hotel if you’re more comfortable with that.”

“Oh… Thank you.”

Catherine sat still for a moment, pondering her options. She didn’t want to spend money on a hotel when she was so close to being able to pay for her battery, but she was also worried about being an inconvenience to Luis. He didn’t strike her as a guy who enjoyed having company.

She watched as Luis came back with the broom and started sweeping, lifting the chairs on the tables as he progressed through the dining area. Maybe it was the dust, or maybe just the cold, but a fierce tickle assaulted Catherine’s nose. She ducked to grab a few tissues and burrowed her nostrils in them, hitching helplessly for a few torturous moments before she finally bobbed forward with a triple sneeze.

“Ehh… Hhhh… Oh g—god… Ihhh… IIH’TSHHHIIIOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

“EEHH’TSHHHIOOOO!”

“Bless you again.”

“Haah… EH’TSHHHIOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

“Thank you.” A post-sneezing chill shook Catherine’s body. “This sucks,” she groaned, wiping her chapped nose.

She picked up a newspaper lying on the coffee table, eager to distract herself. Not having her cellphone hadn’t bothered her at all for the past two days, mostly because she’d been busy working and being too tired to care after her shift. But now that she was stuck on this couch, her fingers were itching to swipe around a tiny screen, check her Instagram feed and complain about being sick on Twitter. But for now, the newspaper would have to do.

She read the day’s news to the sound of the broom rustling on the floor in a pleasantly rhythmic fashion.

Luis was the first to break their silence. “Where were you going?”

“Uh?” said Catherine, lowering the newspaper. The question had come out of nowhere.

“Before your car broke down. Where were you headed?”

Catherine shrugged, pensive. “Nowhere in particular.”

Luis stopped sweeping, both hands on the broomstick. He looked at her. “You were just driving around? With no goal?”

“Yeah, I guess. Just a road trip to nowhere.” She bit her bottom lip and stared at the newspaper spread open on her lap. “I’m still figuring out where I want to go.”

Luis resumed sweeping, his eyes fixed on the floor. A few beats later, he said “hope you find your way soon,” and they both fell silent again.

* * *

“So your house is behind the restaurant?” Catherine asked as she followed Luis down the small path next to the building, darkness swallowing them whole.

“It’s not exactly a house. It’s just a private entrance to a small space in the back.” He shifted Catherine’s luggage to his other hand.

“Still, that’s clever. Much cheaper than buying another place, or rent—ehh… r—eehh… renting aahhhnother— EEH’TSSSSHIIOOOOO!”

“Bless you.”

“EHH’TSSSSHIOOOO!” Catherine lost footing as she sneezed and tripped on something on the ground, unable to distinguish much in the dim light of the moon.

“Ble—Woah!” Luis grabbed her arm at the last second, preventing her from tumbling down.

“Crahhhp… Ehh… EEH’TSSSSHIOOOOO!” She turned away from Luis as he still held her, sneezing towards the ground.

“Bless you.” Luis let her go and resumed walking. “You sneeze a lot.”

“Well, yeah, I have a cold.”

“Still, I’ve never seen someone sneeze so much in a day. And I know you’ve hidden some from me.”

Catherine blushed, thankful for the cover of darkness for once.

“Sorry you don’t feel well,” Luis said with a hint of kindness that took Catherine by surprise for the second time that day. “Hopefully you’ll be better tomorrow morning.”

Catherine didn’t reply, but she knew it wouldn’t be better in the morning. Knowing her luck—or curse—it would be worse. But she was too tired to worry about it or devise any kind of plan. She’d made quite a bit of tips during the day, as if people had taken pity on her because of her cold. She was eager to count everything she had; it might be enough to get her car fixed earlier than anticipated.

Of course she’d still have to wait for the damn credit card.

They arrived at a small lit porch behind the building. Luis swiftly unlocked the door and opened it for Catherine to go in, then walked behind her and flipped the light switch.

The entrance opened straight into a living room, to the left of a large window—the only one in the house. A tiny kitchen took most of the space in the back, with no room for a table or a breakfast bar. There were two doors on the left, one for the bedroom and one for the bathroom.

Catherine walked in the living room, examining the space. It looked like Luis had just moved in and hadn’t had time to decorate. “Bare” was the word that came to Catherine’s mind. The white walls had no paintings, there were no shelves loaded with knick-knacks, and the only picture was black and white, propped up in a frame next to the TV. It was a photo of a much younger-looking Luis and an older woman. Maybe his aunt?

“I don’t have a spare bedroom, but you can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch. Let me change the sheets.”

Catherine shook her head. “No, no I can take the couch.” She looked at the three-seaters, which seemed to be an IKEA futon. “Really, you’re doing me a favor, I’d rather sleep on the couch.”

Luis frowned and opened his mouth to reply, but refrained. Catherine could almost see him battling it out in his head, the logical part of himself insisting that the bed was more comfortable for a guest, but also realizing that her comfort wasn’t purely determined by physical needs. He clenched his jaw and nodded. “Alright. I’ll go get some blankets.” He handed Catherine her luggage and disappeared into the bedroom.

Catherine laid her suitcase on the ground and grabbed her pajamas and a toothbrush. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”

“Go ahead. The towels are in the cabinets.”

The prospect of taking a warm shower filled her with joy. She hadn’t had a proper shower in three days, using the restaurant’s bathroom in the morning for a quick “paper towel bath” as she called it. She hoped the steam would also relieve some of the congestion.

She hopped in the shower, turning the knob to the left until the water was as hot as she could withstand, then let the water envelope her. She turned around and bent her head down to expose her sore neck to the stream, rolling her shoulders to loosen up the muscles. She turned back around and let the water run on her face, massaging her sinuses. It didn’t take very long for her nose to clear, waking up a tickle along with it.

Catherine took a step back and cupped her hands over her nose, ready to catch the sneezes. They exploded out of her as if they’d been held back by congestion all day, tearing their way through her raw throat.

“EHH’TSSHIIIOOOOOO!! Hhh… IIH’TSSSHIIIIIOOOOOOO!! ‘TSSSHHHIOOOOOO!! Uhh… EHH’TSHHHHIOOOOOO!! NN’TTSSHHHIOOOOOO!!”

After the intense fit, Catherine’s head pounded, her throat stung, but her sinuses were much clearer. She soaped up her body, shampooed her hair and got out of the shower, longing for a comfortable bed.

After slipping into her pajamas, she padded back to the living room. All the lights were off except for the one over the oven. A fresh cup of tea steamed on the side table next to the unfolded futon. Luis had prepared the bed with three blankets of varying thickness, and a fluffy pillow.

Assuming Luis had already gone to sleep, Catherine sat on the futon and took a sip of tea. The warm liquid soother her irritated throat.

“If you need more blankets, let me know.”

Catherine jumped and shrieked, spilling some of the tea on the bed. “Oh crap, you scared me!” she said, trying to wipe the liquid with her hand, but only managing to spill more as she held the cup in her other hand.

“Give me the mug,” ordered Luis, passing her a paper towel in exchange. “Didn’t mean to startle you, sorry.”

Catherine laughed, pressing down on the paper towel to help it absorb the tea out of the blanket. “It’s fine. Not the first time I’ve spilled stuff in bed. One time, I spilled an entire jug of milk.” She looked up and laughed even harder when she saw Luis’ expression. “Don’t ask.”

“Your voice…” he said, pointing at his own throat and grimacing. “You don’t sound too good.”

Catherine tried to clear her throat, but she knew it wouldn’t help. “Yeah, it’s pretty rough.”

“I don’t have any medicine. I can get someone to bring some in tomorrow.”

“I should be alright. It’s just a cold.”

Luis approached her and placed a hand on her forehead like he’d done earlier that day. She still couldn’t reconcile how someone as distant and closed off as Luis could be so tender. Did he not realize it? Was this simply part of business for him, making sure his employees were healthy enough to work?

“You feel warm,” he said.

Catherine examined his face as he felt her temperature. There was definitely concern under all those layers of neutrality. Concern and care. His hand lingered on her forehead.

“I just took a hot shower,” she murmured, afraid to break the moment, and at the same time, not knowing how to react. It felt… nice. Like a million butterfly wings kissing her skin as they flew away.

“Right,” Luis said, removing his hand. He cleared his throat and walked back to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really. I’m never hungry when I’m sick.”

“Nobody is, but you have to eat anyway.” He opened the fridge. “I don’t have much in here though. I only cook in the restaurant.”

“Did you always want to open your own restaurant?”

Catherine had blurted out the question before it even formed in her head. Possibly the effect of exhaustion, but she was genuinely interested in the answer. She always wondered what made people want to own a restaurant, knowing that they’d have to work their asses off to make an average living while competing with big food chains.

Luis grabbed a loaf of bread on the counter and popped two slices in the toaster. “My aunt worked at a high school cafeteria when I was a kid. While I was in high school, I helped her during lunch to earn some extra money for the family. The food was terrible.”

Catherine laughed. “So it’s not one of those ‘my grandma taught me how to cook’ story?”

“No. I mean my aunt wasn’t bad, but it was just a job for her. I was in charge of cleaning so I didn’t touch the food, but it got me interested in what makes it taste good or bad. I started going to my best friend’s house every day after school because he had cable. I’d watch the Food Network while he did his homework. He got so tired of the Food Network that I had to bargain with him. I’d do his homework if he let me watch one hour.”

Catherine watched Luis talk, transfixed. His face lit up, and confidence oozed from his body language. He spoke animatedly about the jobs he’d landed at several restaurants during high school, and how he’d had to skip college because of a lack of funds, but managed to learn from a few cooks around his hometown.

“I like the diner, I really do,” he said. “It’s my first restaurant. But the only reason I could afford it is because it’s in the middle of nowhere. And when there’s no movie being filmed, it’s not exactly bustling with customers. I want to move up.”

“What’s your goal?”

“This is going to sound cliché, but I want to open a restaurant in San Francisco. I want a nice, small place where I can experiment with food and still sustain a business.” He looked over to the picture next to the TV. “My mother sent me to the US to live with my aunt when I was very young, and I know it was a big sacrifice for her to let me go, but she wanted me to have a better chance in life. I owe it to her to work as hard as I can to be who I want to be. We all owe it to ourselves to strive for something better.”

Catherine nodded. She saw it now, in Luis’ face. It wasn’t coldness or distance, it was resilience and determination. It was an intense focus on finding a way to a better life. She admired him for it, the willpower and the strength it required to keep going day after day with your eyes on the prize.

How many times had she given up, blamed her curse for failing again and again, when really, she hadn’t been trying hard enough?

Maybe she needed to be a little bit more like Luis.

* * *

After a rough night of sneezing, tossing and turning, Catherine awoke to Luis’ hand on her forehead. She groaned, pulling the blankets higher over her shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” Luis asked.

“Like hell,” Catherine said, her voice barely above a whisper. Almost immediately, a fresh tickle forced her to duck under the covers to avoid sneezing on Luis. “HH’TSHHHH-iii! ‘TSHHHH-iii!” With her voice gone, the ending of her sneezes sounded like a pitiful squeak.

“Bless you.” Luis shook his head. “You’re off today. Go back to sleep.”

His tone left no room for argument, but Catherine wasn’t about to protest anyway. In her state, it wouldn’t be fair to the customers to drag herself to the diner and handle their food. And it wouldn’t be fair to her body either. Sure, she wanted to be more like Luis and work harder, but maybe it could wait until she regained her health.

She slept on and off until late afternoon. When she finally got up, she noticed a note on the fridge. “Soup inside. Luis said to eat it. –A” She assumed “A” was Arthur. She’d slept through his visit.

The extra hours of sleep did seem to help. She felt a bit more refreshed and her head wasn’t pounding for the first time in three days. Even her throat had finally left the raw stage, moving on to a dull soreness. Although when she tested her voice, it was still quite rough.

When she fetched something to wear, Catherine noticed her apron in a pile next her luggage and remembered yesterday’s tips stashed in the front pocket. After getting dressed quickly, she sat down on the floor and summed up the money she had accumulated so far. A rush of adrenaline surged in her veins when she realized that she had enough to get the battery replaced.

She went straight to the phone to call the mechanic.

* * *

When Luis came home that night, he brought a bag filled with food for both of them to share. Catherine was happy to see that he’d made more of the tomato soup with star-shaped noodles that Arthur had brought in while she slept. She’d devour it around dinner time, dipping buttered bread into it. Her appetite had finally returned.

“You look much better tonight,” Luis said as they sat on the couch to eat.

Catherine quickly ducked away from him, muffling a few sneezes in her elbow. “EH’TSSSHHH-ii! ‘TSSHHHH… EH’TSSHHH-ii!”

“Bless you. Guess you’re not 100% yet,” said Luis with a chuckle, passing her a box of tissues.

Catherine laughed. “I do feel better, but I guess my nose is still sensitive.”

“Oh, I forgot… There was a letter addressed to you in the mail this morning.” Luis got up to fetch it, throwing it in front of her on the coffee table.

Catherine's eyes opened wide when she saw it.

“Bad news?” asked Luis.

“No, no it’s… It’s just my credit card replacements from the bank.”

“Oh.” Luis sat down next to her. “I guess you can get your car fixed now.”

Catherine bit her bottom lip. “It’s already fixed actually. I had enough to pay for it so the mechanic came today. It’s ready to go.”

They sat in silence, neither of them touching the food. It was clear they both knew what this meant, but weren’t expecting it to come so soon. Catherine felt a mix of pride for having solved her problem by herself, and sadness. She’d grown fond of the diner and Luis over the past few days, and had expected to be “stuck” here for at least another two days.

“Have you figured out where you’re headed?”

Catherine shook her head. “I’ll probably keep going south for a bit and…” She trailed off. “I really don’t know what I want to do.”

She’d never had a goal when she’d left home that Sunday night. Just an urgent need to wander alone. See what the world was made of. What she was made of. But even through all her habitual misfortunes, had she really figured out who she was, or what she wanted to be? Was she supposed to go back home now and find another job? Go back to college? Move to Antartica? Swim to Europe? Nothing called to her still, nothing felt… right.

“You’re still sick,” said Luis, avoiding eye contact. “You should stay a few more days to rest.”

Catherine studied him, surprised by his sudden shyness. “Wait… Are you saying that because you don’t want me to go?”

A subtle blush appeared on his cheeks, and Catherine giggled.

“Alright, alright,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “It’s been really nice to have you around for the night shift. It makes my job easier.”

“Are you sure? I’ve messed up countless orders, dropped a bunch of stuff, had to take a sick day, and basically invaded your home. And that’s only after three days of employment. Do you really want to test the limits of my curse?”

“I don’t believe in curses. And who cares if you’re a little clumsy, or if you get sick? Big deal, everyone gets sick. The bottom line is, the customers love you. You’re kind, attentive, and you make everyone feel important. Do you know how many regulars asked me where you were today?”

Catherine shrugged, speechless.

“I’ve lost count,” he said, shaking his head. “Too many. The point is, the diner needs you. I need you. I don’t care how many plates you break. I can replace those, but…” Luis paused and looked at her. “Just think about it.”

* * *

At around noon the next day, Catherine cruised on the highway in her Camry. She listened to its engine purr, glad to have her “trusty” steed back. The sun beat down on the road, sending whiffs of baked asphalt through Catherine’s open windows. She took a deep breath through her half congested nose, happy that her sense of smell had almost fully returned.

After driving for a good twenty minutes, Catherine arrived at her destination and hopped out of her car. She pushed the door to the building, listening to the bell announcing her arrival. She walked in and felt a warm rush of familiarity hit her, like coming home after a long vacation. The white walls, the cactus posters, the old ripped couch in the corner… even the sight of Mabel brought joy to Catherine. This was her destination. At least for now.

Luis caught sight of her from the kitchen window and came out to greet her, wiping his hands on a towel. “I thought you were gone,” he said with a hint of relief in his eyes. “I saw your car was gone, and Arthur said you weren’t there when he brought you soup.”

“Oh, I just needed this,” said Catherine, whipping out a brand new smart phone from her back pocket. “I can’t function without it, especially if I’m going to live here for a while. Hopefully you have Wi-Fi though, because reception is pretty s—sp… ehh… spotty— EH’TSSHHIIOOOO!”

“Bless you, sneezy,” said Luis with a smile. “Now get to work.”

Catherine tied her apron behind her back and grabbed her notepad. She still didn’t know what she wanted to do, or where she would ultimately end up. But “here” was a good place to start.

And it felt right.

The End

#sneezefic #sickfic #caretaking #illnessfic #snz fic #snzblr #snzfic

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