Dreams

Anais picks up her mask, ready to become Melinda for the night. They never use their real names at these events. Looking around, she knows this is not where she is meant to be in life. The job isn’t bad, it just does not bring in enough money. She hates walking around seeing and serving all the people she knows her heart longs to be.

Fastening the mask, she smiles, ready to take on the night. Like every other night, she knows there will be no hassle, no issues, and a slight chance one of the guests will ask to dance with a waiter. She didn’t understand why they asked, but they did. Of all the women at these events, men could pick anyone easily, yet they seem to go for the waiters.

Looking in the mirror at her silky black thigh-high dress and her heels, she nods and walks out, the music playing. She smiles, looking around, wishing she was one of the women out here talking, laughing and enjoying the night, not working. She picks up her tray of food and walks around with it. Every now and then, someone takes a tiny appetiser from her tray, no one looking at her or acknowledging her.

It is as if the trays are floating on invisible clouds. No one thanks her. She didn’t mind, though. It was all part of life. She was lower than these people, much lower. Not as low as a waiter in a diner, but still close to that level. She will one day be these people, be the upper-class ones, the ones wearing elegant, golden flowing dresses, instead of the plain black dress which blends her in with the other waitresses.

The night seems to be going well. Every now and then, she will smile and talk to another waiter but never lingers long. She knows to do that would have consequences. The aim is to clear the trays quickly and get back to get another. The manager keeps tabs on every one of them, making sure they were going back empty. If you took too long, it meant you were not covering enough of the venue quickly enough.

“Melinda, honey. Would you mind playing and singing? Unfortunately, the entertainment had to run off for a moment.” Turning, Anais looks at the manager, confused. “Your own song, though, Melinda, guests don’t want the usual melodies.” Anais stares at him, shocked; she can’t do that.

“I’m sorry, but I never sing my own songs. I’m sorry.” She can’t. How the hell is she meant to sing a song which she struggles to sing to herself?

“The door is there, Melinda. I suggest you take the weight off your feet, pick up the guitar, and sit and play.” Turning, he walks off, not leaving her a chance to argue. She needs this job, she could quickly get a job as a waiter after working here, but the pay in smaller establishments isn’t enough.

Walking towards the stage, she picks up the guitar; she wishes she never mentioned she could sing or play an instrument. She feels like all eyes are on her as she sits down. Of course, no one is, she reminds herself.

These people are not here for the music. They are here for the conversation and to hopefully gain extra revenues within their companies. Her fingers begin moving across the guitar strings as she tries to figure out the words in her head.

She doesn’t sing her own songs, ever. She sees her manager watching her from a distance. A man stood beside him, her eyes glancing over him. She feels drawn to him, why though she doesn’t know. She can see the Managers frustration rising more and more.

“Silent reverie, within my soul, as my heart won’t let go. Of the memories of you.” Her fingers continue moving across the strings.

“Quiet afternoon, I will call out to anyone in the hopes they will fill my silent reverie.”

“Tell me if there is a way to stop my heart from loving you. Cause all that I do, all day is hurt over you. Someone tell me, what should I do? To stop my heart hurting over you.” Sitting, she keeps her eyes closed as she sings her song.

One song and hopefully the entertainment will be back as she hates to think of having to sing a second song.