Inez gathers thick dishware, dark table, old wooden booth. Palms her tip into the pocket with her knife. Plain pink uniform hides her shapeliness. Long thick onyx black hair is gathered on the back of her head. Inez tucks a curl behind the pencil that sticks out above her ear. Big brown eyes preoccupied. A customer passes. Inez smiles half-heartedly. Waits for another customer to pass. Steps across the aisle between torn red vinyl covers on stainless steel pedestal stools. Stacks the dishes, utensils. Faded yellow formica counter length of the narrow restaurant.

"Inez, finish up and take your break," Luis calls. Works the grill, back of the restaurant. Watches Inez. Imagines she is carved from the Divine. Waits for her to speak Monday through Friday. Day shift love.

Inez glances at him from under thick brows, long lashes. Says nothing.

"Inez, are you alright," Nydia asks.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine," Inez tells the other waitress.

"Well you're not," Nydia insists. "You're off somewhere and Luis thinks you're angry with him."

"Foolish." Inez shakes her head. Big silver ear hoops swing back and forth. Fidgets with the chain around her neck.

Nydia looks to Pilar, another waitress. Nydia widens her eyes, shrugs.

Inez walks to the end of the counter. Sits on a stool. "Luis. Luis."

Luis turns from the grill. Wipes his hands on his apron. Wife Lorna leans out from the kitchen.

"Luis, I'm not angry with you," Inez assures.

Luis smiles. World is a better place now.

"Luis. Lorna, I need the afternoon off," Inez asks. "Please?"

"First you must tell us if you're alright," Lorna insists.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

"Then go," Luis says.

"I'll be back Monday. Like always."

"Go on," he says.

Inez touches Nydia, Pilar. Each on the arm. Walks around the counter through the kitchen to the coat room for her white windbreaker. Knapsack over her shoulder. Returns through the kitchen. Smiles weakly. Lorna gives Inez a little rub on the back as she passes. Lorna, Luis, Nydia, Pilar. Watch Inez walk past the register out the entrance. Year and a half full time no vacation work. Inez Jasmine Molinero. Taking time off.

_________________
 

Inez walks through the Lower East Side’s spring warmth. Walks with hands in her pockets. Usual route. Wide noisy avenue. Traffic congests, lights change, traffic disperses. Cars are double parked. Inez’ neighborhood. Fringe. Puerto Rican community. Markets, stores, restaurants, bars. Brown yellow brick buildings honeycombed with apartments. Alley-ways no one is much familiar with strung top to bottom with laundry. Rooftops. Remnants of pigeon coops. No men, no boys. Neighbors no longer congregate there. Times are changed.

Nothing is new. Old is used again and again and then again. Collapses, crumbles. Black asphalt streets. Litter. City senses which cars are abandoned. Vehicles are anonymously towed.

Unemployed, elderly, drop-outs. Stand in doorways, sit on stoops to watch, socialize, commiserate, scheme. Watch from windows. Small groups of men stand outside bars, liquor stores. Pass bottles in brown bags. Drink their aimless afternoon. Eye Inez. No advances. Early.