I Beseech You

Farid was run off his feet, struggling to keep up in the kitchen and then at the coffee machine in front. The new girl put on that week for a three day stint had declined the opportunity of a further day on the issue of the $17 per hour remuneration. As agreed, the girl, a student, had worked her three days and wasn’t coming in to cover for Yayah, who had suddenly pleaded illness that morning. Thus Farid was left in the lurch. The agreement with Yayah had been to put on another worker for three days and Yayah would cover the other three. Working six every week was too much for Yayah. The new arrangement had begun to settle well enough, until at the last minute that stunt of a sickie, the girl declining and thereby F. left on his lonesome. 35-40 meals and 9-10 dozen coffees were taxing even for superman Farid. Now Farid was dirty on Yayah as well as the girl. Twice in the last couple of years Yayah had begged Farid to take him back on after sabbaticals for one reason or another. On both those occasions, in the course of hearing the pleas, Farid had found his leg clutched by the petitioner Yayah. Standing by his machine at the window and despite the press of customers and orders, Farid raised his leg a little and bent to show the firm hold Yayah had taken of his ankle. Twice taken like that and twice demonstrated by Farid when he failed to be understood at first. A tight clasp like a shackle at the ankle, Farid’s eyes staring out. The question then became whether the pair had been seated in those two rounds of discussions over the return of Yayah, or whether in that pleading there had been involved some old practice of servant/master supplication from the Horn.