“Your Roquefort salad, miss Stein. Seasoned with organic Syrian olive oil, cold pressed, coarse salt – made in Israel, with shallot onions and a pinch of honey – recommended by the three-michelin-stars awarded chef” said the headwaiter with graces, and served the main course to the set table.
“Oh, I’ve nearly forgotten,” he added, while miss Stein scrupulously examines her salad, “the cheese arrived directly from the Greek farmers of the Island… -’os’ something. Who knows their spécialité better than us,” he winked.
Veronica was most certainly not pleased. She had waited far too long for her dish, and it seemed as if her dressing was missing a tad of essential sweetness. She had nearly returned her salad so to be exchanged for another, however, the hunger got the best of her. It was no secret – miss Stein does not like to be hungry.
As she unwillingly nibbles through her bowl, Veronica observed the slowly setting sun in the horizon. At this time of twilight she used to sail with contemplation – and at the moment she was reflecting on how intriguing was the sight of the remote building’s 8th floor in comparison to that of it’s fifteenth. It’s all about perspective, she pondered.
The headwaiter came to clear the half-full bowl that remained on miss Stein’s table.
“Was the salad to your liking, miss Stein?”
“Far from it. I sincerely hope the main course will be more set, otherwise I will surely go mad!״
Before the headwaiter has had the opportunity to reply and deeply apologize for the aggravation, a certain so and so approached Veronica and asked: “Miss Stein, will you kindly come and help us with the buckets?”
Veronica and the headwaiter looked at each other, perhaps confused, perhaps contemptful. So and so got the hint and left the room, disappointed.
The headwaiter asked for her forgiveness and went out to check on the main course. The sun was already kissing the horizon, and Veronica began to leaf through the newspaper that was lying on her table.
“The decision of the president of the United States, former reality TV show star, which strategically effects the Russian president…” Veronica quickly lost interest and went on to look at the screen of her smartphone.
“And now – the highlight of our kitchen. This veal is so soft and creamy, and not by chance – from the moment of birth, the calf did not stand on his feet even for one short moment – but remained sitting in his tiny home. And believe me, miss Stein: with each and every bite you’ll feel its tenderness. The parsley leaves are only a reference and are effectively used as décor.״
The shore is so near, thought Veronica, and cut the chunk with a fork and a knife. It has gotten chilly, and Veronica put on her new jacket. Oh, how proud she was of it – a masterpiece, that’s how she called it. While chewing, the sweet meaty juices so delicious on her taste budds, another so and so has arrived and implored: “Veronica, enough is enough. Come and help us with the buckets, NOW.”
Miss Stein looked at so and so’s eyes, and for a moment stopped chewing. But when the headwaiter returned, he ordered so and so to leave miss Stein alone. So and so went away, grunting. The headwaiter was just doing his job, whereas now was the most important time of all – the time for dessert. And oh, what a dessert it was; the finest of the garden’s fruit, dipped in fine chocolate made of African cocoa beans. On top – sugar powder and whipped cream.
But Veronica, who until only a few moments ago had nearly starved to death, had started to feel a tiny bit full. She decided to sip a glass of water before she’ll attend her glorious dessert. Needless to say that she refused to use the water that was slowly gathering around the soles of her high-heeled shoes. Now, the cold had become almost unbearable, despite the jacket. So and so barged in and screamed: “Veronica! Grab a bucket and come this very instant. Am I making myself clear?!”
Miss Stein was appalled by the stranger’s nerve. The headwaiter couldn’t understand what is all the fuss about, so before he banished the stranger again he had decided to inquire for his objective.
“Veronica knows very well what my objective is,” he replied.
“We’ve come here many, many times before. It started after the economic crisis – Greece was sinking, the banks imploded, and no one spoke a word. We tried to make her say something! The water had broken through all the air pockets. Then, we all remember what happened in Syria, we tried to get Veronica, but she was on the ninth floor – and the water was only at the second floor. So we continued attempting on our own, hoping our efforts will suffice. But when the dead-sea dried, the bees – manufacturers of fruit – were extinct, and the calves were separated from their mothers time and time again, we realized we’re going to need Veronica as well. The water didn’t arrive at the ninth floor yet, but it was on the eighth floor, and Veronica simply climbed up to the twelfth floor restaurant. For a moment there we thought that the smartphone rush would save the day, but Veronica used it mostly for photographing sunsets. So the water kept climbing and then, when a reality TV show star was elected for presidency of the free world, it was nearly impossible to stop the water. And there you go: a third world war is knocking on the door, the west is arming, the middle-east is arming, and Veronica awaits her dessert!”
“I don’t understand what all of this has to do with me, why won’t you leave me alone?” screened Veronica with typical stress.
“It has everything to do with you! If we all chip in, if each of us will pick up only one bucket, we could take hold of the water, we’ll manage to pour it out – ‘till the very last drop. Believe me! But you must join us, Veronica. It’s always darkest before dawn. I beg of you.”
The promised land was seen in the horizon. The water had reached Veronica’s ankles.
“But why me?” cried Veronica, her tear drops joinning the sea that is on the floor.
“Haven’t you realized yet?!” asked the stranger impatiently, “We’re all on the same boat!”