***

He was busy wiping glasses and putting them back in their places, so he missed someone calling for him. Usually, when he was working, he was as good as invisible, and being that was a good thing. There was no one to make uncomfortable with his stares and strange appearance.

His manager, a man in his forties, with a big belly, eventually had to pat him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Yes, Mr. Smith,” he said dutifully. “How may I be of service?”

He hoped Mr. Smith didn’t plan on firing him, because he needed each of the three part-time jobs he was keeping to pay the rent and for all of life’s necessities. His grandma had taught him how to be content with little, but sometimes, it was hard, especially when he saw something he liked, such as tiny glass figurines.

“What would you say,” Mr. Smith said slowly, as he usually did when talking to Otis, “if we send you out on the floor to wait on tables, too?”

Otis took his time to reply. That was the equivalent of a promotion, but did Mr. Smith understand that, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to put him out in front of clients? “I am happy where I am, Mr. Smith,” he said.

His manager sighed and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Jerry pulled a no-show on us tonight. Missy will show you what to do, and she’ll be close all the time.”

“Do you want me to start right now? For how long? Jerry will be back.”

“Or not,” Mr. Smith said with a shrug. “Look, Otis, you are very polite and you do each task well. I’m sure you will do fine. Missy is going to show you the ropes.” He turned to leave but then looked at Otis again. “Just push that hair out of your eyes. It will strain your sight if you’re not careful.”

Otis didn’t say a word and touched his hair protectively. Mr. Smith’s demands were, sometimes, difficult. With reluctance, he brushed his hair back over his head. He would try not to stare at the customers too much so that they wouldn’t be put off by his asymmetric eyes. And, hopefully, he wouldn’t end up making a mess out of their orders.

***

“You know, you are a lot more helpful than that asshole Jerry,” Missy, his colleague, said as they began wiping down the tables. “And, I have no idea if you swing that way, but the man at table three, you know, the one in the expensive suit, asked about you.”

Otis didn’t remember any man. He had kept his eyes averted at all times, intent on not staring and making customers uncomfortable. Mr. Smith ran a respectable restaurant, and Otis was happy to work there, because it paid the most of his three part-time jobs. However, as respectable as the restaurant was, it wasn’t the kind to warrant the presence of someone in an expensive suit. “What did he ask?”

“If you’ve worked here long, if you’re looking for something else, things like that. He might want to hire you.”

“Hire me as what?” Otis asked, puzzled. What could men in expensive suits want with him? He only knew how to clean and perform menial tasks.

Missy looked at him and burst into laughter. She pinched Otis’s cheek. “Arm candy, what else? Don’t worry, I told him we’re not that kind of place.”

Arm candy was an odd term that described beautiful people who accompanied others who liked having such attractive individuals by their side for the sake of beautiful photos. So, Missy was joking. Also, she had said a truth; the restaurant didn’t sell or rent arm candies.

“You are right,” he told the woman politely. It wasn’t nice of her to tease him, but she always seemed nice, and had a good hearty laugh, so Otis wouldn’t hold a thing like that against her.

“I’m telling you, he didn’t seem pleased,” Missy continued while energetically wiping down one table. “And he left a measly tip if you can believe it. Cheapskate. Otis, I’m telling you. Stay away from assholes like that. They parade their clothes and car and bling just to get your attention, and then they ask you to go Dutch if you say that you aren’t going to go down on them on the first date.”

Missy had a considerable list of disastrous dates under her belt, so Otis knew that he couldn’t go to her for advice. If anything, she appeared to struggle just as much as he did. However, she was considerably advanced in her efforts to try to get a date, since she didn’t talk to bots on the Internet like him.

“What does an ideal date look like to you?” he asked, partially out of politeness and partially out of curiosity.

Missy laughed. She did that a lot. She sounded like a very happy person. Also, the huge red mane on her head made her stand out. Otis would be terrified to stand out so much. It didn’t appear to bother her, however. “I suppose it would be one at the end of which the guy doesn’t expect a blow job as payment for a tepid beer and a couple of burritos.”

Otis felt his face getting hot. He knew the term blow job, as well. It meant oral sex, and it was the kind of thing that made him uncomfortable in a way that caused a terrible shame to creep in. He had watched some videos. They had been enough to convince him that it was a very pleasurable activity. However, it also seemed to be something undesirable. Missy, for instance, didn’t want to do it, and, from what she was saying, offering a blow job would make her seem cheap, something she wasn’t. Otis wanted to tell her that people didn’t come with price tags, but he had learned to keep his mouth shut more often than not. Like his stares, whatever came out of it also made people laugh at him, or, at least, uncomfortable.

“What about you?” Missy suddenly asked, turning her attention to him.

He grabbed his hair and pulled it over his eye. Since Mr. Smith had gone home already, there was no need for him to protect his eyesight by exposing his asymmetric eyes to the world.

His silence didn’t seem to please his coworker. Missy came near and, much to his dismay, brushed away his hair, sweeping it back. “Any girlfriend? Boyfriend?” she asked with a large smile.

“No boyfriend,” he said quickly. “A girlfriend wouldn’t suit me.”

“Go figure. That guy’s gaydar worked just fine. Too bad he was a cheap bastard,” Missy commented. “Why no boyfriend?”

“I am actively looking.” That was more of a grey lie. He was trying to be active in looking. So far, it hadn’t worked.

“I see. What are you using? Grindr?” Otis shook his head. He must have looked horrified enough because Missy laughed. “Yeah, you don’t look like the type. For a while, I thought you might be some religious nut, a cute one, but still. Your clothes are so prim and proper. However, it looks like they’re not enough to keep the interested at bay.” She winked at him, although Otis didn’t know what she meant by that.

“I end up talking to fake people,” Otis blurted out. He had meant to say ‘bots’, but that had been the first thing that had come to his mind.

“You’re telling me?” Missy said with a snort. “The world is full of them.”

So, he wasn’t the only one who had that problem. That was a relief. “Do you happen to know anyone who offers dating advice?” he asked.

“I don’t trust those bozos with their podcasts and whatnot,” Missy said and tsked in disapproval. “The best way to get good advice is from someone real, someone you know, someone you can talk to, face to face. My girlfriends are also in the same boat as me, though. And my mom used to date in completely different times, so she’s no use. My big sis is pregnant with her third. That’s from her fourth beau, though. As you can see, dating experts are in short supply in my world.”

Missy was right, once more. He needed to find someone with experience in the real world of dating, not read articles on the Internet. His mind took him to his new neighbor. Did he swing that way, as Missy put it? If he did, he looked like someone who’d have no trouble getting a date, Otis thought.

He continued wiping the table in front of him. It was worth keeping an eye on his neighbor. Just to see if he swung that way, at least.

TBC