Hating Hades

C H A P T E R 2 - Dilara.

                “Dilara… You can’t not come.”

Hearing my mothers’ voice through the receiver of the telephone wasn’t anything new to me, but what was new, was the fact that my mother had dared to call me during working hours—and saying working hours was quite the understatement, as this was peak lunch hour, and I was supposed to be helping customers. Who else was going to do it, if not me?

                “Mum, I’ve already explained to you that I can’t take off from work—”

                “You can’t, or you don’t want to? For all I know, you must have volunteered yourself for some extra hours—goodness knows that you can’t be surviving on the salary of a waitress.”

I clenched my jaw, not liking what my mother was saying, even though there wasn’t any real truth to it. She liked to think that she knew what was going on in my life, but the truth of the matter was that she didn’t. She didn’t know a single thing and no matter how many times I wanted to scream that into her face, I needed to remind myself of what a fatal accident that would be.

She didn’t deserve to know.

No matter how much I loved and cared for her. The less she knew, the better for me.

                “Mum, I really can’t talk now. We’re busy today, and I need to help the customers. They’re all waiting for me.”

It was a lie. A blatant lie that I knew wouldn’t make any difference to the current state of my shop, because everyone who was here, standing in the queue, were regulars. And despite the fact that I was busy talking to my mother on the call, I was still assisting them as best as I could, and none of them seemed displeased—they knew that I worked here alone. It was only natural for them to be understanding of the circumstances, especially since most of them had been coming here for months since discovering the place.

                “Dilara, I’m sure that there are other workers who wouldn’t mind standing in for you while you speak to your mother. I’m just trying to understand why—”

                “Mum, I’m really pressed for time. I can’t talk right now—like I’ve already explained. Please just understand. I’ll give you a call tonight.”

And with that being said, I hung up on my mother, telling myself that it wouldn’t be such a big deal and that it wouldn’t matter if I hung up on her. The worst that she would be able to do, is to call me again, and this time, I simply wouldn’t answer her. And yes, it may be seen as a show of disrespect, but having her continuously call me could also be a show of disrespect, especially since she knew that I had work to do.

I smiled at the customer who was standing in front of me, and luckily for my sake, the lady smiled back, looking over the rims of her glasses, although she didn’t exactly say anything to me. It was a sight that I had gotten used to recently, despite the fact that it had made me slightly uncomfortable when the café had just opened, but I had quickly learned that every customer should be valued as much as the one before, whether it was a regular or not.

But this happened to be a regular.

I gave her the change that she was entitled to, and it was then that I realised that she had been the very last person in the queue. My mother had kept me busy on the phone for so long that I hadn’t even gotten anywhere close to reaching my target for the daily lunch hour—and I knew that in the long run, I would end up paying dearly for it, as customers were likely to remain apprehensive about coming back as they would be uncertain about the treatment that they would receive. No one enjoyed waiting in line, and they enjoyed waitresses who made personal phone calls during working hours even less.

I let out a sigh of frustration and started to take off my apron, knowing that it wouldn’t be likely for anyone to come in here within the next hour. It was a daily routine that I had gotten so used to, that I had gotten so reliant on that I hadn’t even started to consider what the consequences would have been if something like what had happened today, had happened. And that right there, was one of the reasons why I needed to get another employee. But I couldn’t do that.

And even if I somehow managed to find someone who would be willing to work here, I would have the time of my life struggling to pay them. And I doubted that they would be happy of everything that I expected of them.

I wasn’t even happy with everything that I was expecting of myself.

And even though I was allowing my mind to wander, even though I was allowing my mind to focus on something else, I knew that it would only be a matter of time until the topic of my mothers’ phone call forced its’ way back into the forefront of my mind, and I knew that after a while, I wouldn’t be able to ignore it as well as I was able to now.

My mother was an adamant person, and as I had mentioned before, I had absolutely no reason to miss out on this family gathering—not when she had started planning it months ago, and essentially made sure that I would be able to free my schedule in time for it. But she was wrong. No matter how many times she thought that she could make it easier for me, she didn’t do that. She’s never done that. On the contrary, she was doing a good job at making it increasingly difficult.

Because now, the guilt was starting to eat away at the edges of my soul, nibbling piece by piece until it crumpled and fell down to the floor.

I let out a sigh once more, but this one was more resigned in comparison to the anger that the other one had caused me to portray. I didn’t know what to do. No matter how much my heart and soul longed to share the company of my family, I knew that it was safer for me to stay here, to stay away. I just knew it. And if it upset my mother when I put myself first, then so be it. There was nothing that I could do about it.

But my father was getting old.

That was the reason why all of this was happening, amongst other reasons, but I believed that it was the main reason. My mother wouldn’t have been trying so hard to make sure that I attended if there wasn’t a much bigger meaning for it, a much deeper one than the one that she was giving me. And the fact that I didn’t know that reason was the thing that had kept me up last night, had caused me to toss and turn from side to side.

And now, it was causing my mind to whirr from place to place—almost as if I couldn’t get peace, no matter what time of day it was.

Did I stay here and hide from my past, or did I suck it up and go visit my family?

Would it even be worth it?

These were the type of questions that were running through my mind and no matter how hard I tried to provide them with an answer, I simply couldn’t. I simply couldn’t do it, because I didn’t know the answers and I knew that I wouldn’t be getting them either.

I would have to make a decision based on my own opinion, based on what I believed to be best—but how did I do what was best when it felt like what was best for me, wasn’t best for everyone else, when it felt like I was being selfish by choosing to do what was best for me and not what was right? Was it that I had suddenly developed a sense of morality and it was now kicking it, or what? What could possibly be the reason for all of this?

Oh, but it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter, it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter.

What mattered was the here and now, what mattered was this café and everything that it meant to me, everything that it symbolised. I would make sure that I died before I dared to allow it to die—because this was my dream. This was my dream, and I wasn’t about to go ahead and sacrifice it for some time with a few people whom I hadn’t seen in years.

But what if that right there, was the very reason why I needed to go? I hadn’t seen them in years, hadn’t gone to visit once since I had left. What if it was the reason that I didn’t know I needed, what if things had changed and I wouldn’t feel as I had felt before I had left?

But then again, I had to consider the possibility that nothing could have changed, that everything would have remained the same, and that I was just busy thinking wishfully. I had done it before, so it was definitely possible that I had done it again.

I had twenty-four hours to make a decision…

But it was about so much more than making a decision to me…

And if only I could make my mother and everyone else understand that, then everything would be so much simpler.