Things at work have been interesting. Hectic.

We threw a party after the Presidential election. I had a drink (a Screwdriver). I found out that Eddie's actual name is Edgar. That was actually a half-way interesting story. We threw the party in the after hours of the restaurant, after everyone had gone home except for the servers. We were waiting for the results...and when it became obvious that Obama had won, and McCain gave his speech...we set up for the party extravaganza (random note: I had to spell this word in a spelling bee in the fifth grade. I spelt it correctly). While we were doing this, Sarah had Eddie (as he was to me then) move all the glasses out of the way (we used plastic cups a la college party). Colin came out of the kitchen at the same time that Eddie was going in with a tray of glasses-without looking-and ran into Eddie. He lost several glasses, but not all of them, in a miraculous feat of server balance. Sarah thought that Eddie had just dropped them because he was being an idiot (which I don't understand. Eddie's never an idiot. And he's creepy graceful.). And she called out "EDGAR MCCLEAN!! THE HELL YOU DOING?!?!" I looked at her, because I was in the same room with her, and I asked, "His name's Edgar?" (and another part of me asked, "His last name's McClean?...my god...he's a highlander...) She said, "Yeah, didn't you know that?" And went to go and see what the hell happened. The story came out, and Sarah yelled at Colin instead. She likes to yell at people. I think it comes with the territory of being a single 38-year-old woman who never got past the city lines of her hometown.

When Eddie came back into the room, I said, conversationally, "So, your name's Edgar." And he looked at me with such a look...and said, "Yes." There was a lot more weight behind that 'yes' than there should have been. Things have not been the same between us since Raquel's party. I mostly avoided him at work, not in a deliberate way, but in a sort of oh my god I'm nervous about this kind of way. If I'm reading too much into the scenarios then I could ruin a good thing. Of course, if I'm reading too little into them I could miss a good thing. But, I'm not really thinking of this at all at the party. I'm relaxed. Obama won. Times are good. In the spirit of goodness I ask him if anyone actually calls him Edgar. He says that his close friends usually do. Then, while we're still there in the room, sort of off to one side away from the others, he says:

"If you want to call me Edgar, you have to become a close friend."

And he just smiles, and then walks away before I can think of any good comeback to that. The rest of the party was nice. Someone brought in an iPod and stereo thing and there was music and dancing. I danced with Colin and Mark (who everyone else calls Hunter...and no one will tell me why). I didn't dance with Eddie...or Edgar, as he shall now be called. Mostly because he didn't dance at all. He was doing the helping...you know. Collecting empty cups, offering refills....being a server, bascially. Except for Edgar and Mariah, all the rest of us threw off our server-selves like shoes. It felt nice.

The next day, not so much. I had to get up for a second-person-in shift at the boutique (as I've been calling it lately). At least I didn't open. I was still dead on my feet.

But that's how things went for the next week. I saw Edgar only twice in passing--he was in the morning shift and I was coming on for the evening both times. I didn't even get to say anything.

Yesterday, Edgar came in  off-shift. There was a bit of a squirmish in the lobby about who he was going to sit with. I didn't realize that Edgar was popular with the other female servers. Okay. Honestly, I didn't really notice Edgar much at all. I mean, he was Eddie. He does the quiet blend thing really well. But he was there with his two of his friends--a very attractive brunette guy and his *ahem* partner, a not quite as attractive dyed black haired guy with an eyebrow piercing. Sometimes I forget that its not LA here and that gay guys are still sort of ooooh aaaaaah. Not as much though. I think that all of the younger generation of people I work with voted against Prop 8.

I'm getting off track.

Edgar and Co. come in and there's everyone saying, "oooh sit with me" and the like. And since its Sunday night, it's not exactly bustling, so Edgar can pretty much have whoever he wants. And he asks, polite and calm, "Is Elina working tonight?" And one of the new girls says, "Uh, yeah, she's working the back five tables tonight." There was a bit of a hush, but then the people started talking again. I was listening in from the side station, not sure if I felt relieved or disappointed that my section was full. Someone told him that--didn't see who--and he then asked if Colin was working, and had any tables open. He did. On the opposite side of the restaurant from me.

They left before I was finished so I didn't even get to see them on their way out. I was still sort of puzzling over the meaning of him asking for me. I mean, he had all the other girls around him practically flashing him to get him to come sit with them...but he asked for me. I don't know. I think that's a pretty clear sign. And if I'm going to think anything into the little flash of heat I got from when he spoke up, I'm thinking I've definitely got myself a crush going. On a guy named Edgar. Well. Could be worse. Could be named Cole.

I'm just too much of a chicken to act on what he said before. I mean...I can talk big, but the fact of the matter is that I don't know him. And I still feel like the New Girl In Town. I don't want this screwing things up for me.

I think I'm going to Target. Maybe this calls for a new outfit. I'm thinking...something warm and fuzzy. Sweater? Yes. I am getting serious sweater vibes calling my name from Target. Off I go.

It's been a long couple of weeks. First, there was the whole upset at the restaurant when Casey (god I hate that name) was being an idiot (nothing new there) and playing around with the coffee pot, which broke on him, and he got blood and glass all over the place. Like the coffee. And the bread. And three plates of food set down for just a minute to grab said bread. He didn't even get fired, just "written up" or whatever. They don't pull that kind of shit in L.A. and don't get fired. I guess some day that may turn out to be a good thing for me.

And then on last Sunday it was Raquel's 21st birthday and I was invited, so I went. It was...strange. Raquel's seriously Lutheran Christian. So that meant no heavy drinking (she had an honorary sort of "glass" of wine) and no real heavy party. It was just this laid back thing where first we all just gathered together (people started arriving at 3pm or so) and then sat around talking (the rest of us already over 21 had access to a decent amount of alcohol). I realized why I was invited: I'm one of the only other servers who doesn't drink all that much and wouldn't bitch about there not being enough booze. But, I do know my stuff. I mean, I bartended for that bit of time. I took up "command" of the kitchen and made drinks for people. I may have had a little bit more than I really planned to and when the time came for the "screening" as they called it I was floating a little on a pleasant buzz.

Too fucking bad for me. The "screening" was of people's movies of Raquel taken over the years. They started at the most recent and went backwards. I was fine for the first couple, one I could even add commentary to because I remembered Nick taking it. I think you can see my arm in one frame. Whatever. Then the little movies went from "haha friends out together" to "parents doing something to remember an occasion" and as they went further back in time, I started to get quieter and quieter...and then there was this one for a random day in kindergarten I guess and she's just posed in front of the camera telling her parents about what she did that day. She's just so cute, a little dressed up and a little self-conscious about the whole thing. Then. She says something and her mom comes from wherever she was behind the camera, up to little Raquel, and hugs her and says, "You're the most wonderful and special little girl in all the world." She looks right into Raquel's eyes and says this. Like she really, really means it. And Raquel just smiles, like she believes it too.

I started crying. Not like "burst into tears" crying, just the "tears well up and then eventually fall and won't stop" crying. Of course, I was in the back, so it wasn't that noticeable, but I think that Eddie noticed. He was standing closest to me, and I guess he looked back and saw me crying, cause he moved backward just a little (really smoothly too...I think he must have done dance or something in his childhood cause he's way too graceful for it to be natural. Or maybe I'm just bitter cause I'm so middle-of-the-road. Not a graceful willow. Not a klutzy bubble head). He started to ask something or whatnot and I just said, real quite, "I've got to go the bathroom," ducked my head and made my way to the bathroom. THAT was when I burst into tears proper, after turning on the loud bathroom fan. I cried for long enough that I felt puffy and tired at the end.

By the time I fixed my hair, washed my face, and put on makeup (I thought that no one would notice that I wasn't wearing makeup at the start of the party and then not at the end, but apparently, Eddie has the observational skills of a zoologist) the movies were done and I could safely move about the others without incident. The rest of the party passed well enough.

It was work on Tuesday that things kind of came out. I was on break, waiting out the necessary 30 minutes (practicallly counting down the seconds in my head, something I haven't done since my stint as a secretary (or "assistant" as I was called)). I was going to be one of the closers, so I didn't have a choice in it. Same time I'm taking break, Eddie finishes up, and he comes into the back, where I'm just sitting around. I see him, of course. Hard to miss Eddie. He's one of the tallest guys in the whole restaurant (not that this is saying a whole of a lot). Probably 6' even. I'm not that good of a judge of height, but he's tall. And kind of cute in a...skinny blonde guy kind of way. He has one of those really trustworthy faces or whatever. He's always the guy who settles things. In a past life he was probably a guru or missionary or diplomat. Or something.

He came right up to me, looks at me, and says: "I hope that the screening wasn't too hard on you. I know you're alone here...but, if you ever want to get out of this, you know, get out into the world and remember that there are other people with other lives that also suck...I won't say no if you ask me." If he had smiled I would have dismissed it as a lead-in to a come-on, trustworthy face or no, but he was so serious. It's easy to forget that Eddie is actually 23-years-old. He sometimes looks so young. Then, as he was looking at me, he looked old. And the only thing that went through my head just then was, "At least he didn't say, 'if you ever need someone to talk to'" and then "Did he just ask me out?"

All I said was, "Thanks. Sometimes...well. Yeah." I hoped that didn't make me sound like a complete idiot. Maybe he read into my silence/stutter something profound. All he did was reach over, brushes away a couple stray hairsgrab his bag, and leave. I was in a bit of shock from the brushing hair back bit. Guys just...don't do that with me. They usually think I'm too tough to need simple things like care and attention.

I think I may have a growing crush on our resident Diplomat.

That, and my paycheck for this week is actually enough money. Maybe I need to "get away" this weekend...