The Last Slice: China Doll

“The Last Slice” is a short fiction serial about the customers and staff of the The Last Slice Cafe.

“You speak great English,” commented Thomas.

“Excuse me!” said Cathy. This wasn’t the first time someone had said that to her. It still didn’t make it hurt any less. “You mean I speak good English for someone whose family has been here since the 1870s?”

Thomas look flustered. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just assumed…”

“You assumed I was a new Australian because I have such classically Chinese features?”

“No. I mean yes. Err…”

“Well, my Grandfather was Spanish, for the record. But the rest of my Chinese genes decided to ignore that fact.”

Suddenly the chef came striding out of the kitchen. She was small and bird-like, and very serious… but she was also strikingly beautiful with classic Mediterranean features. She strode up to Thomas, who was much taller than her, and punched him hard in the arm. “Stop being a dickhead Thomas,” then strode back into the kitchen.

Thomas rubbed his arm. “That’s the missus. Catarina… Cat for short. I manage the cafe, she cooks.” Thomas was older than Cat, something emphasised by his short-cropped greying hair. His small round glasses gave him a look of permanent surprise. “Can we start again? You’ve got good references… do you want to work here?”

“He’s not that bad,” said the only waitress in the cafe, as she walked past with a plate of food. She was about the same age as Cat, but with a darker complexion. “I’m Sandy, by the way. Just ignore Thom, he’s harmless. I mean, he thinks I know how to throw a boomerang and play didgeridoo just because I’m Koori. Anyway, it’s a nice place to work, and I really need some help.”

“When can you start?” asked Thomas, looking desperate.

“I could start now. You really do look like you need the help… but no more stereotypes!”

“Deal.”

Sandy quickly showed Cathy the ropes. After being unemployed for a few weeks, it felt good to be working again. The other member of staff was Barista Dave, as everyone called him. He was in his early twenties, around the same age as Cathy.

“Don’t worry too much. Thom is cool, but a little socially awkward,” he commented later that day.

“Yeah, I know,” admitted Cathy. “I just get tired of being stereotyped. It would be like me saying you were a lazy, live-at-home, surfer-dude from the Shire just because you’re young, tall, blue-eyed and blonde.”

Barista Dave gave her a funny look. “But I am…”

Cathy looked at him, and thinking he was teasing her, laughed.

“No, I’m serious,” he said.

“Oh shit,” said Cathy. “I just did the same thing Thomas did. Only in reverse.”

“You sure did,” said Barista Dave, winking.

“I feel like such an idiot.”

“Nah, you’re cool. Here. Can you take this pot of tea over to Miss Adelaide? She’s the old lady in the corner. Be careful… she can talk your ears off.”

Cathy lifted the tray with the pot of tea and cup and saucer on it, and took it over to Miss Adelaide. She was a tiny Caucasian lady, and she seemed over-dressed for the weather, even though it was winter. As Cathy placed the pot of tea on the table, Miss Adelaide grabbed her arm.

“You’re such a pretty girl, like a little China doll.”

Cathy wasn’t sure what to say, but decided to take this as a compliment. “Thank you.”

“Where’s your family from?”

This made Cathy a little angry again, but she decided to let it go. “Newtown. We’ve been there for over a hundred years.”

“Oh, I thought you might have been from the old country. I was born in Shanghai myself.”

“Really?”

“Yes. My father was a wool-trader, and my parents lived in Shanghai in the 1930s. I don’t remember very much –  I was too young – but I do remember how pretty the local women were. You look just like them.”

Miss Adelaide smiled and let go of Cathy’s arm. Cathy smiled back.

I think I’m going to like working here.

To be continued…

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Featured Image by Peter Howse