devotions.

The waitress, noticing the sharp-dressed man’s empty mug, gracefully made her way to him through the sea of dining couples. With a smile, she bent slightly and gestured towards his cup.

“More tea, monsieur?” she asked. The gentleman smiled courteously at her. The smooth lines on his face indicated that he was barely more than 30 years old, but the waitress could not help but feel as though he was somehow much older.
“Please,” he nodded. She smiled in return, and, collecting his empty cup, ducked out to fetch the beverage.

She returned quickly, as all good waitresses do, with a large pitcher of water that had just been boiled. He watched the steam rise from the stainless steel carafe as she deftly poured the liquid into his mug. When finished, she glanced past the lit candles and bouquet of flowers at the empty seat across the table.

“Waiting for someone?” she asked, thinking it was unlikely for such a nice gentleman to come to the bistro alone. After all, the bistro was famed for being a lover’s nook.
“Ah, yes. I am expecting someone,” he said warmly. There was a brightness in his eyes, as one gets when he thinks of the one he loves. The waitress took note of this devotion in the gentleman’s eyes and knew that whoever she was, she was blessed.
“You must really love her,” the waitress said.
“More than she’ll ever know,” he replied without missing a heartbeat. Something about the way he said this made the waitress feel a chill down her spine. Catching herself, she suddenly remembered that she was due in the kitchen to pick up orders for another table.
“Well I will be pleased to meet her when she arrives,” she said, indicating her exit. They exchanged smiles once more and the waitress disappeared back into the backdrop of the restaurant.

The man brought the hot tea up to his mouth and drew in a sip. It was a soothing blend of chamomile and mint; refreshing and calming all at once. He set the cup down in its saucer and cleared his throat, scanning the restaurant. The bistro was a quiet and intimate place to meet. The classical music was never too loud or shrill, and the servers were polite and welcoming. The food was simply sumptuous. There were lovers scattered all across the restaurant; some were gazing tenderly into each other’s eyes, and others were merely allowing silence to voice their unspoken longings and sentiments. The gentleman drank in these observations as though they were a good wine. A spectacular thing, he noted, love is.

The man was so absorbed into his thoughts about love that he did not notice the waitress appearing at his table again.
“Monsieur? Have you thought about what you would like to order?” she asked, motioning to the closed menus by his napkin. Stirring from his reverie, the gentleman turned his head at the sound of her voice.
“Oh yes, I have decided on the fish,” he said. The waitress nodded in agreement.
“And for the lady?” she said, looking up at the empty seat across the table. The gentleman wasted no time in responding.
“She usually requests the pork tenderloin but tonight, perhaps she will like the seafood bisque,” he said. There was no hint of doubt in his voice. He must know her so well, the waitress thought to herself.
“I will return with your entrees,” she said, and once again, sweeping away.

After the waitress left, the gentleman glanced at his watch — just about half past seven. She had agreed to meet him exactly at seven o’clock, but he was a patient man. He was willing to wait.

A few moments passed and the waitress returned with a silver tray, on which the two dishes were placed. She set the fish in front of the gentleman and looked uncertain about the bisque, as the expected guest was not yet here. The gentleman caught her confusion.
“Olivia should be here soon; you can leave it here for her,” he said. The waitress complied.
“Olivia,” she repeated, “what a beautiful name.” The gentleman, who had not touched his food, smiled.
“Yes — a beautiful name indeed.” The waitress suddenly felt awkward — a feeling that good waitresses don’t usually experience — as though she had delivered the wrong dish, which she in fact had not done. However, the gentleman did not look in the least bothered by her questions. She quickly walked away from his table. But before she entered the kitchen doors, she turned her head to look at him. He had not touched his food, but rather, he was bowing his head in prayer. An interesting man, she thought to herself, then vanished behind the kitchen doors.

The gentleman lifted his head from his prayer and looked up at the empty seat across the table. Slowly, he began to eat his meal, savoring every bite. He thought about the last time he brought Olivia here to the bistro. She had fallen in love with the romantic atmosphere of the bistro; the pork tenderloin delighted her. They shared a most wonderful conversation that evening — the gentleman remembered every single word. Olivia had revealed to him her dreams and aspirations of becoming an elementary school teacher. She had been scared of disappointing her mother, who expected Olivia to follow in her footsteps and lead a successful career as a medical practitioner. He had encouraged her throughout the process, reminding her along the way that there were just some things that she had been born to do.

He thought about all of this with longing and warmth in his heart. He loved every single one of his conversations with Olivia and wondered whether she felt that way too. It wasn’t before long that he noticed that the fish he had been eating was gone, and that the seafood bisque was no longer steaming but quite cool. The waitress, never missing a detail, walked over to his table. She saw the now-cool bowl of seafood bisque and looked over at the gentleman’s cleanly finished plate. A sinking feeling began to set in her heart.

“Monsieur? Are you finished with your plate?” she said, tentatively, this time. The gentleman set his napkin gently on the table and nodded.
“Could you please take the bisque as well and save it for her later? I am sure she will be hungry when she arrives,” he said politely. He was still hopeful, the waitress thought to herself, trying hard not to give him her opinion. Forcing a smile, she yielded to his request.

Eight o’clock, the gentleman’s watch reported. He asked for more tea and asked the waitress to let him sit for a while longer. Without a word, she nodded and left for the kitchens. By half past eight, it became clear to the waitress and to the rest of the bistro staff — all of whom had heard about this man’s perseverance from the waitress herself — that Olivia was not coming. The kitchen and wait staff collectively agreed to keep their services running for this man for as long as he insisted on sitting there, out of sympathy and respect. Even when other guests at the bistro began to leave around nine o’clock, the staff still held onto hope.

At ten o’clock, the wait staff began to clear the tables and blow out the candles gracing the tabletops. They performed these tasks slowly and meaningfully so that the gentleman, who was still sitting at his table, would not be disturbed. The gentleman took note of the wait staff’s intentions and was inwardly grateful. However, when eleven o’clock came about, the owner of the restaurant became slightly agitated since his workers had already been working overtime. Just as he was about to accost the gentleman and ask him to leave, the gentleman sensed that he had overstayed his welcome and stood up. He collected his jacket and hat and nodded to the owner.

“Thank you for your hospitality. I am leaving now.” The gentleman gestured to the flowers he had brought with him earlier that evening.
“These are for the kind waitress who served me tonight,” he said. And then he was gone.

———-

Olivia opened the car door and with one stiletto heel stepped out onto the pavement, teetering a little and still giggling with her friend, who was with her. One of them almost lost her balance while climbing out of the passenger side of the car.

“That was the best night of my life!” gasped Lilly, Olivia’s friend. The women giggled as they said goodbye to their driver. Olivia and Lilly made it to the front door of their apartment arm in arm.
“I am so beat,” Olivia said, casually tossing her clutch to the floor as she made her way into the apartment. Lilly took off one heel after the other and clambered into her room.
“Meeee toooooo,” she said, collapsing on her bed. “See you in the morning, Liv.”

Olivia walked into the other room — her room — and began to get ready for bed. Her heart was elated after having spent the evening with the new soccer coach at her school. She smiled to herself, remembering the way he had held her when they danced together in the bar and how he had complimented her on her smile. Sighing, she fell onto her bed and decided that she would deliberately stop by his office after school tomorrow before soccer practice began.
Turning, Olivia reached for the lamp on her nightstand. As she began to turn off the light, she noticed a small Post-It tacked to the Bible on the table.

7:00PM, devotions with Jesus.


Olivia furrowed her brow — she couldn’t remember when she wrote that note. Perhaps a twinge of conviction after the pastor’s sermon that past Sunday compelled her to write the note down. Exhausted, Olivia dug herself deep under the covers, turned off her lamp, and drifted off into sleep.

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