I played the answering machine messages--- all for Fran. Shirley, Betsy, Betsy again, and then Shirley one more time. And then a man’s voice. It was Harvey, wanting me to meet him for coffee. I didn’t return his call. A quick shower and bedtime, bean-bag-chair-time that is. I felt tired after a full day of work and back tomorrow for another day, but as I closed my eyes my mind reved while I fought to keep my lids shut. How could this be, I’m tired, I know I am, but in desperate need of sleep, I laid with a constant buzz in my head that refused comfort.

No more than two hours sleep, I heard Fran blow dry her hair. I didn’t know how I was going to lift myself from the bean bag, let alone work another day standing on my feet with my arms elbow deep in warm dirty dish water at the Getty Museum Restaurant.

“Yo, Cute Man,” Bernard with the tight curly hair bugled. He was the kitchen Captain and often times he asked people to call him Captain, which the day before I had refused so now he refered to me as Cute Man, seeing as he’s aware of my sexuality. Clever isn’t he? “They’re backing up on the floor, empty the pan.”

An empty pan hung from my fingers as I headed for the floor. I slipped through the swing door and exchanged the full pan of silverware and glassware with the empty. As I turned toward the floor of tables to get a glimpse of something other than stainless sinks, I saw through the glass wall one of the janitors in a brown uniform leaning on his broom, staring and smiling.

His message was clear and immediate. I knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to show it. I smiled in return.

Later on my break, I slipped my bomber jacket over my gray kitchen jacket and went on a search. I had fifteen minutes. It wasn’t long before I found him in the garden bending over, restalking a vine. “You do gardening, too?” I said facing his back.

He didn’t turn, but acted like he knew me. “I do everything.” I wasn’t surprised by his slight Mexican accent. His black wavy hair hovered around his ears, and I could see from the side of his face the point of his large smile.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Why you want to know my name?”

“You know why.” Finally, he stood erect and turned to me. Round dark eyes, creamy brown skin, and a gloating smile. I had no choice but to say, “So…can I meet you later?”

A slight blush overtook him and he glanced at the dirt by his feet. “You’re a fancy white guy, that’s easy to see, so why you interested in me?”

I opened my bomber jacket. “I’m the kitchen help. I’m not sure how fancy that is.”

“Yes, but you are more. I can tell that.”

“You got a thing against white guys?”

He laughed. “I get off at four. Meet you at the cappuccino stand.” Without a word from me, he grabbed his hoe and moved to another falling vine.

I went back to the dishes with a grin on my face that lasted the rest of the day. Unfortunately, it annoyed Captain Bernard to the point of assigning me night duty for the next weekend. I couldn’t sleep anyway so I didn’t care, but my aloofness just pissed Bernard off all the more. He hated me. Why? I’m not so sure. I think it was just the fact that I existed.