L. Marie Adeline- S.E.C.R.E.T

“I could kiss you.”
“You could not,” she said.
I ran to my locker, plucked the book from the top of a pile of dirty T-shirts and made a
mental note to do laundry. I was breathless when I got to the table. The faces of both
women turned towards me at the same time, expectant.
“So! I asked Dell. She’s the other waitress who works days, too, right over there …” At
this point, Dell dutifully came out of the kitchen and waved a tired arm our way to
legitimize my total lie. “It turns out she found this,” I said, triumphantly pulling the
notebook out of my pouch. “Is this what you—?”
Before I could nish that sentence, Pauline plucked the book from my ngers and
deposited it into her purse.
“That is it. And thank you so much,” she said to me, exhaling. Then she turned to the
other woman. “You know what? I have to go now, Matilda. So sad, but turns out I don’t
have time for lunch after all today, is that okay?”
“That’s ne. Call me later. But I’m famished,” Matilda said. She stood to hug her
harried companion goodbye.
I could feel the relief and the vexation coursing through Pauline. She had gotten the
booklet back, but she knew that it had released some of its secrets somewhere, to
someone, and it seemed she couldn’t wait to leave. After their quick embrace, she made
a dash for the door.
Matilda folded back down into her chair, as relaxed as a cat settling into a sun patch. I
looked around the restaurant. It was about three o’clock, and the place was almost
empty. My shift would be over soon.
“Be right back with your green tea,” I said. “Menu’s on the wall there.”
“Thank you, Cassie,” she said as I walked away.
I felt gut-punched. She knew my name. How did she know my name? I did sign my
bills. And Pauline was a regular. That’s how. Surely.
The rest of my shift was uneventful. Matilda sipped her tea, looking out the window.
She ordered the egg salad sandwich, pickle on the side, half of which she ate. We didn’t
say much beyond the pleasantries of a waitress serving a customer. I gave her the bill
and she left a nice tip.
That’s why I was shocked the next day to see Matilda come in after the lunch rush died
down, this time alone. She waved at me and pointed to a table. I nodded, noticing that
my hands shook a little as I made my way over to her. What I was so nervous about?
Even if she knew I’d lied, what was so bad about what I had done? How could any
normal person have resisted reading a notebook with such compelling content? Besides,
it was Pauline who might feel wronged, her privacy a little violated, not this woman.
“Hello, Cassie,” she said, smiling a genuine smile.
This time I noticed her face. She had bright wide eyes, dark brown, with awless skin.
She wore little makeup, which had the added eect of making her look younger than
what she probably was, which I now suspected was closer to sixty than fty. She had a