Day 1

Tyoma Suhoy was sitting behind the reception desk. It was a tall desk and so his baseball cap was barely seen from behind it. Tyoma wasn’t a small guy. He slouched on the chair with his head down on the phone. Pictures of girls on his phone screen. He was scrolling through them. When his phone rang, it said Dad on it. He jerked his head, his forehead frowning. He tilted his head and put the phone under it. Resting on his arm, he said,

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Because you called,” he said.

He moved his eyes side to side and squeezed his mouth. Then his mouth opened, he listened.

“I won’t come home tonight,” he said.

“Out getting some,” he pulled a smile.

“What?” he asked, his face frowning again.

“Fine,” he said and put his phone down.

“He is getting to me,” he said and looked up. Ras was standing over the reception desk and listening. When he heard his name called, Ras followed it to the main hall. A second later, Tyoma stuck his head out from behind the corner, holding onto the door frame. He brought his hand to his mouth and moved it up and down. The manager nodded, and Ras smiled. Then Ras said, “Go suck it.”

“Two minutes,” Tyoma said, holding two fingers up. He raised his eyebrows at Ras and left.

Ras, in his apron and a baseball cap on, starts walking along the tables. Ras checks the silverware. A cloth in his hand, he wipes one plate, then another. Then he looks out the window. Tyoma is standing by the curb, smoking. It is getting dark but the lights over the terrace are still off. Cars passing Tyoma by, someone approaches him and they friendly shake hands.

Ras heard his name called again. He turns around and listens to the barista. He nods and turns back. Tyoma is still smoking. A person enters the restaurant hall and Ras hears the manager say, “Meet the guests, Ras.”

Ras takes a menu and follows the guest to the table. He gives it to the guy and waits. A man in his 40s, reads the menu, moves his eyes slowly across the big laminated piece of paper. His head moves around the menu as a wind-up head that releases itself slowly. A pen down to a little block note, Ras stands still, waiting. Ras looks up and catches sight of Tyoma out by the curb. Tyoma moves his hand up with a cigarette and says something to the other guy. Ras turns back to the customer.

“Herbal tea, for starters. Then I’ll let you know,” the man says.

Ras nods and looks up at Tyoma, who walks up to the restaurant now. He watches him enter the restaurant hall. He watches him point up his finger up the second floor and leave. Ras wanted to say it but asked, “Where?”

“I need to think. Upstairs,” Tyoma says.

Ras closed his eyes and let Tyoma run up, jumping stairs. Half an hour later, Tyoma comes back down, his feet sliding the stairs. He jumps up on the banister and makes himself slide down and jump on the floor. The manager calls Tyoma and talks. They both talk as Ras runs down to the kitchen and up to the bar. Ras barely understands what they talk about. He gives a glance at them. The manager behind his desk, Tyoma, is standing in front. Then the barista says something and all of the three chuckle.

Ras calls up to the barista, but the barista hardly hears him. A teapot in his hands, he comes up and places it on the bar. He does not look at Ras, he places the teapot for Ras to pick, and goes back to the talk. What are they talking about? Ras hears a few words about ladies and parties.

“She ripped me a new one,” the manager says. “No one ever talked to me like that, not even a man,” he says.

“Really?” Tyoma asks and pulls his lip. He turns to Ras at the bar and friendly punches him in the stomach.

“Jesus,” Ras says, a tray with a teapot in his hands. He walks to the guest table and unloads the tea, then goes back to the station. The hall seems to be quiet for a second. The barista behind his bar, wiping his glasses. Tyoma out of the view. The manager looks up at Ras, and says, “Look, Tyoma is a nice guy. He just needs a push from time to time.” He adds, “Just get him moving!”