I've been fond of Vietnamese Pho restaurants for some time now, ever since some friend introduced me. We would go as a group quite regularly but for the last few years there hasn't been much opportunity. That changed recently – there's a very nice family run place just a block or so away. I've become quite a regular there, often going twice a week for lunch – most often just by myself. It's nice to have a lunch spot where you're recognized and they don't bother giving you a menu anymore, just ask whether I want number 5 or number 27 today – soup or vermicelli noodles?
But I admit there's one other reason I go there so frequently. One of the owners is really quite cute, and has become quite friendly to me. Not outright flirting – she's married and I doubt she'd dare in front of family – but always eager to come out from her usual station behind the counter to server me when I come in, always making sure she says hello to me. And occasionally noticeably awkward around me – once when serving my bowl of vermicelli noodles she missed the table when she tried to put the tray down. She caught the noodles, but the tray clattered to the floor – she turned very red and I suspect was teased by the other staff. But still I can always count on a warm smile and that's always a nice way to brighten my day.
Last week when I was in one of the younger servers brought me my tea as I was sitting down, but it slipped as she placed it on the table and the entire pot spilled across the table, straight towards me. I was complimented afterwards by a fellow at the next table on my quick reaction time – I managed to get to my feet and step back before the hot tea ran all over my front. No big deal – I sat down at the next table, there were profuse apologies and the tea was mopped up. But it started my mind thinking on a different series of events.
Walking in one day I'm greeted warmly by my favourite – no I don't even know her name – but before I even sit down my order is taken and the hot tea delivered. Just a few minutes later I notice her hurry to the kitchen to pick up my order before any of the wait staff have a chance to. I'm not surprised – she's done it a number of times before – it just makes me smile inside when she does. It's then that disaster strikes. In putting down the bowl of hot soup one hand slips and the other doesn't have a firm enough grip to hold on. I don't see exactly how it happens – I was looking up to catch her lovely smile. Instead I see her look of horror as the soup spills across the table. I'm not so lucky this time – I don't jump up until I feel the searing heat soaking through my shirt and pants. I manage not to yell out in pain, instead I hold my clothes away from my skin to try to prevent burns. My friend is frozen in shock, asking if I'm hurt but otherwise unable to move. One of the waitresses arrives with towels to mop up the spilled soup and there's a flurry of activity cleaning up, though I'm not quite sure what to do myself. The activity brings my friend back to her senses and she turns to me, puts her hand on my shoulder and says, "Don't worry – I'll take care of you – they can clean up here. Wait here just a moment."
In that moment the table and floor are all cleared up, and a few clean towels applied to my clothes to sop up a little from me. She returns wearing her coat and motions me to follow her, outside to her car. I'm a little hesitant about climbing into the leather seats of the big SUV while still covered in soup but she's thought that out – she slips another clean towel down on the seat before inviting me to climb in. It isn't far at all to her house, we park in the garage and she quickly whisks me inside.
"I'm so sorry about that, come inside and I'll wash up your clothes while you have a shower. There's a guest bedroom right here with a washroom inside."
I follow her, take the clean towel she offers and close the door to strip down and climb into the shower. I hear the door just after I climb into the shower and feel slightly awkward – the shower door is rather transparent. But then she's also very cute and has never failed in offering me a warm smile. As I wash myself clean I look more closely to see if the soup did burn at all. There is a small red spot where it spilled first onto my shirt, but other than that I survived unscathed.
As I step out of the shower I find my clothes gone and replaced by a brightly flowered light silk robe. I laugh a little, then struggle to put it on after drying myself off. It's on the short side, and I can only just get my shoulders into it, but it manages to do the job of covering me up. Just then there's a polite knock at the door before she walks straight in.
