I wonder why every third step seems longer than the others, thought Candice to herself.

The well-worn converse sneakers scuffed gently on the pavement as Candice walked along the sidewalk on her way into work. Candice, or “Candi” as her nametag and friends called her, was just finishing her first week as a server at the Armeni.

The Armeni was owned by a sweet Armenian couple who immigrated to the United States in the early eighties. It was a favorite for many locals and was one of the few restaurants that would close for two Sundays out of every month.

Glancing down at her cheap wristwatch, Candice consciously quickened her pace so that she could get to work a little early.

I wonder if Jeremy is out of bed yet? Candice considered. He was out awfully late last night and there was another empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the kitchen table.

Jeremy had been Candice’s boyfriend for almost one year now. Their relationship had started out nice enough. Jeremy was sweet, he would spend time with her, and he made Candice feel special in a way that few others could. In one of his more touching moments, Jeremy had even proclaimed his love for her with one of those little rings he won from a vending machine. Candice blushed when Jeremy slid the ring onto her finger and she couldn’t help but smile as he grinned at her, gently grabbed her hand, and said: “Until I can afford a real one.”

This memory was months ago. Now, Jeremy found comfort from a bottle of alcohol instead of her arms. It’s not his fault, Candice would remind herself. If his father hadn’t died so suddenly I know he would be better. It’s just a phase, and soon enough I’ll have the old Jeremy back. My Jeremy.

However, the old Jeremy seemed to become more distant with each passing day. This morning, Candice found herself favoring her left leg as she felt the bruise on her upper thigh. The most recent injury from Jeremy, it happened when he swung at her during a drunken tantrum. Candice had reached to take a bottle of whiskey out of his hands when, before she knew it, he threw his fist at her gut. Jeremy missed, but his blow connected with her thigh.

Just ten minutes till my shift starts. I had better hurry. Candice soon turned another corner and saw Armeni’s only two blocks down the road.

It was a Sunday and Candice suspected it would be a busy day. Years in the food service industry had taught Candice that families always went out for lunch after church. While they enjoyed their day off, Candice usually enjoyed a workload twice that of any other weekday lunch hour.

Candice always entered from the back. She could never articulate it, but it just seemed right for employees to enter through the kitchen – as if walking through the front door would make the guests feel uncomfortable to see those who served them in anything aside from their uniform.

Checking her watch again, Candice thought, I’ll have just enough time to get ready before my shift.

Always one to put on a front, Candice was certainly not the same person she would present once out on the floor serving customers. To every customer who was asked, she would be “Good, great, fantastic, or even wonderful.” Truthfully, Candice was far from these fleeting words. Sometimes she would think to herself I wish I really could mean what I say to all these people. That I felt good. That I had enough money to pay my bills, and that my only complaint was being a little tired.

Now in the kitchen, Candice noticed everything was painfully quiet. The lights were on, but there was not a single living person in the kitchen besides herself. The room felt as empty as a Dandelion stem after every one of the seeds has been blown away by a wishful child.

This certainly is strange. Where is everyone? It sounds like there are people talking and laughing out in the dining area…

With apprehension, Candice edged her way towards the door. She didn’t want to disturb anyone, thinking that perhaps there was a reception of some kind happening. Slightly opening up the swinging door Candice saw her co-workers seated at one long table. Did I forget about something? Candice worried. Just as she was about to shut the door one of the owners, Renzi, noticed her.

“Are you surprised?” He asked as he walked towards her.

“Yes. What is this?” Candice questioned.

“Every other Sunday our staff takes the day off and my wife and I serve everyone else.” Renzi replied in a cheerful voice. “Come with me. We saved you a seat at the table.”

Hesitantly, Candice followed Renzi to the table and sat down. Looking around, she noticed her co-workers all talking together and laughing. How amazing, thought Candice. I can’t believe people would take the time to do this for others.

Looking at the beautifully simple scene unfolding before her, Candice could not help but feel something stirring inside of her. Hope, she thought. Candice’s body felt noticeably lighter. I think I feel hopeful. A quiet assurance reminded her, things will grow better .

Quite honestly, nothing in her life had changed. Candice had no reason to feel the hope she now considered; she had the same abusive boyfriend and the same stack of bills sitting on the kitchen table. A cynic might even say that Candice had false hope – but can hope ever be false?

*A special thanks to Mitch Albom and his novel, The First Phone Call From Heaven, which partially inspired this short story. *