Nocturnal Activities

Jeremy wore grey combat trousers, an old black Bonds t-shirt and his beaten-up boots. After seven hours on his feet, the back of his heels killed, but with the way the waitstaff dropped stuff on the floor, he needed non-slip footwear, and these were his only pair.

He liked Thursday nights. After work it would be almost midnight—pitch black outside, and there’d be no one around on his walk home.

Keeping his head down he focused on getting everything into the car-sized dishwasher. With every row stacked, the dishes marched like soldiers towards the high-pressure water and suds, and out the other side again boiling hot and pristine.

Even with the restaurant teeming with customers, Abigail still wanted to chat. They hadn’t talked in weeks. He never knew why she tried to engage with him.

A couple of months ago she surprised him by turning up to his house unannounced. Jeremy had told Nick about it—what a mistake. His big brother had gotten excited, like this might have been some turning point for Jeremy.

With only an hour left of his shift, Jeremy turned his attention to getting everything in the kitchen cleaned and put away. He scrubbed down the cookers, food prep machines and fridges, and thought about mopping the floor.

Dishes and glasses from the restaurant continued to arrive at the sink, forming mini mountains of crockery that sat in random places on his bench. It was Abigail who did this, almost like she wanted an excuse to connect with Jeremy.

Her face was all edges, like it had been assembled from a bunch of jagged pieces. Jeremy often wondered about her black hair, and how she got it to stay in place, framing her face. When he first met her, he couldn’t figure out if he found her attractive, but he couldn’t stop looking at her.

She entered holding a tray filled with cups, and said, as if she was talking to the kitchen and not him, ‘Sticking around for a drink tonight?’

Jeremy held a knife trying to extract a burnt piece of meat from the grill. ‘I don’t know. Probably just go home.’

‘Oh okay,’ she said.

Ten minutes later while Jeremy tied up a liner in one of the bins, Abigail entered the kitchen again. This time she dumped dessert plates on his bench. ‘That’s the last of it.’

Jeremy nodded and went to take the bin outside to the skip.

She trailed after him. ‘Sure you won’t have a drink with us tonight?’