nineteen

It is Friday. A week before my final day. I get up, the same as usual. Get ready, get on the bus, go to work.

It gets to lunch time and I go to the staff locker room to get some sandwiches out of my bag. I cook the sandwiches in the grill that we have for paninnies. While it's cooking I look at my phone. I have an answer phone message from the café, calling me in for an interview tomorrow. At first I'm not quite sure how to react. My jaw feels numb, like I can't taste anything – or maybe my mouth is feeling so overwhelmed with the taste of something that I can't taste what my mouth normally tastes like.

I phone the café back to confirm the interview. The phone rings but then I realise my sandwich is about to burn so I stop toasting my sandwich and put it on a plate. I then try phoning again.

The phone rings for a very long time. I think I have waited three minutes before an answer phone cuts in and tells me that they are not there right now and to leave a name and number after the beep. I don't even know if this is what it actually says but almost all answer phones say this, so I just assume.

'Hi, I'm just ringing to confirm the interview for tomorrow. I…um…yes…' I pause. I don't know what I'm saying, or what to say. I pause for a very long time. I think I have stopped breathing. I panic and hang up the phone. I'm still panicking. This could end up in me leaving a very bad impression for my interview tomorrow. I should really call them back, but I don't know what to say. I go and eat my sandwich and try to calm down. I pour a glass of water and look at my phone. I decide to ring them again. The phone only rings four times before someone picks up.

'Hello, I just called you but I think I lost signal.'

'Oh?'

'Yes. I was in the middle of leaving you an answer phone message when it just cut out.'

'Oh.'

'It was just to confirm a job interview for tomorrow.'

'Oh!'

I give them my name and confirm my phone number as well as the time and place of the interview before hanging up. This feels good. The numb feeling has returned to my jaw and I'm glad I didn't just leave the answer phone message. They will probably listen to it later and laugh about it, but I will pretend it didn't happen for now.

In the kitchen, Mozart is pilling pint glasses into the dish washer.

'HALLO!' he shouts at his glasses before turning and grinning wildly at me.

'Hiya,' I say. I always feel like we could have something to talk to each other about but neither of us bother saying it, or we want to say it in a language that the other can't understand. I am hanging around the kitchen not doing anything. I go round to where Mozart is stacking all the pint glasses on a tray for the dishwasher. I watch him. He looks up and smiles, continuing with his work.

'Have you been working less hours?' I ask him.

'Hah?' he says.

'Less hours,' I repeat, 'you haven't been here as much.'

'Oh no,' he says, 'I have been doing lessons. On violin,' he says and plays a few notes on an imaginary violin in the air.

'You seem to be getting on better with Ant,' I tell him.

'Hm?' he says.

'The chef…Ant?'

'Oh yes! He's good boy. I play football with him last week. Very good.'

I tell Mozart that it's very good and go back out into the restaurant, blushing slightly, to see if anyone is there.