I was shocked to tears when the waitress in the restaurant made me kneel.
What should have been a celebration of our fiftieth anniversary turned into a life-or-death emergency over what seemed to be a typical dinner. My late husband responded to a brave waitress’s urgent appeal to kneel with a heartfelt letter and an unplanned act of bravery.
Clara, my 78-year-old grandmother, here I am. Today would have been my late husband Brian and I 50th wedding anniversary. I still remember him by taking my family to nice restaurants on certain occasions.
The restaurant was hopping. Walking over to the table, I felt a little lost. I had a hard time navigating the crowded space, the noise, and the busy wait staff. The exertion and emotions that this day always invokes made my heart race.
As soon as I entered the restaurant, the aroma of delicious food delighted me. The room was filled with the sound of conversation and the soft clinking of cutlery. The lighting was soft and muted, just the way Brian and I always enjoyed it.
I finally made it to my favorite window seat. I took a seat and took a big breath. I was sitting in a weird, frigid chair by myself, with no Brian by my side. He grinned at me, his lips curling at the corners. His smile was almost tangible.
“Happy anniversary, my love,” I whispered to myself.
I turned to glance around and saw couples and families enjoying a satisfying dinner. Brian and I had celebrated our anniversaries here, and all of them flooded back to me. We would sit across the table, holding hands, creating new memories and laughing over old ones. Those were the best days of my life.
My excitement for the lunch started to build. I picked up the menu and perused it, even though I knew precisely what I wanted. Every day, we got to choose what was exceptional. “Why alter a positive thing?” Brian would joke.
A young waitress who was always grinning came over. “Hello, ma’am. Are you ready to buy something?
“Yes, please, I’ll have the special,” I smiled back.
She nodded and turned to take my order. When she returned with my meal, my heart stopped. The plate was dirty, covered with some kind of unknown stuff.
I apologized. Please replace this plate if you could. It’s filthy.
Naturally, ma’am,” she replied, seeming a little upset. “I’ll return immediately.”
She ran back into the kitchen and picked up the dish. I sat there, waiting, my excitement subdued by a tiny disappointment.
After a few minutes, the waitress returned carrying a transparent dish. Instead of setting it down in front of me, though, she went in close and whispered, “You need to get on your knees immediately, ma’am!”
I blinked, startled. “Why?” I asked, shaking my voice.
“Please, just do it now,” she said while trembling. Her eyes darted to the door.
I stopped, my mind racing. Why had she asked me to finish this assignment? But there was a desperation in her voice that made me had to comply. I carefully got out of my chair and knelt down by my table.
As I knelt there, I was both bewildered and embarrassed. Tears pierced my eyes. I expected the waiter to explain, so I glanced up at her. Beside me, she fell to her knees and apologized profusely, Ma’am. There is this man with the gun. Stay down and follow my instructions.
My heartbeat pounded in my chest. I turned to face the entrance, and there he was, a dubious-looking man scanning the restaurant with his hand tucked inside his jeans. I was so scared that I was having difficulty breathing.
“We need to stay calm,” the waitress stated in a steady, low voice. “He threatened to shoot everybody who moved. I had to take control of you without alerting him.
I nodded, tears streaming down my face. When I realized what had happened, I was filled with emotion and felt both anxious and grateful for this brave young woman.
At that moment, there was a loud bang coming from the kitchen. Pots and pans clattered to the floor, evoking shouts. Looking toward the sound, the man beside the door narrowed his eyes.
“This is our chance,” the waiter whispered. She grasped my hand with a firm yet reassuring grip.
“Stay low,” she instructed.
We made no sound as we began to crawl as quickly as we could. I maintained my eyes on the waitress and put all my trust in her, even though the floor felt cold and hard on my knees. I was certain that my heart was hammering loudly enough for everyone to hear.
We approached a little door marked “Storage.” The waitress opened it, and we stepped inside gingerly. She locked the door behind us, her hands shaking.
“We should be safe in here,” she retorted, leaning against the door for air. “Just keep quiet.”
I nodded, breathing heavily with effort and anxiety. A closet area filled with shelves full of supplies. The waitress sat down beside me, her face pallid but resolute.
I thanked them, tears streaming down my face.
The server gave me a small smile. “My name is Emily.” I am sorry that I had to scare you in that manner, but I had no idea how to keep you safe.
I said in a trembling voice, “You made the right decision.” “My life was saved by you.”
Emily glanced down, her eyes gleaming. “My sibling is a police officer.” He taught me how to deal with situations like this. You remind me of my granny as well. I could not let anything happen to you.
Her words really resonated with me. “Thank you, Emily. You showed a great deal of courage.
Emily took out a little, beautifully crafted wooden box from her apron pocket. “I almost forgot,” she said, “Your spouse dropped this off with the manager for you.” I was supposed to give it to you today.
My hands shook as I took the box from her. It was exquisite, including detailed sculptures that appeared to have been made by hand. When I carefully cracked it open, I discovered two walnut shells along with a note.
When I realized the letter was written by me, tears welled up in my eyes. Brian was the source of it. I shook and started reading aloud.
Clara, my sweetest,
Today is our 50th wedding anniversary, and even though I’m not here in person, I’m always with you in spirit. This small box holds a tiny piece of our long-forgotten love story. Do you remember when we first met? You gave me a walnut as a keepsake from our first chat. I’ve carried these shells around ever since as a reminder of that wonderful day and all the incredible moments we shared.
My love for you only grows stronger with each passing year. You have always been my joy and my strength. I hope you continue this tradition and feel my love surround you now and always.
Yours always and forever, Brian
As soon as I finished reading, I started bawling. I held the walnut shells in my palm and their smooth surfaces evoked a variety of recollections. This behavior reminded me of Brian, who was sentimental all his life.
Emily gently rested a hand on my shoulder. “He loved you so much,” she remarked softly.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. “Police, open up,” yelled a voice.
Emily flung open the door, and a group of officers entered, their faces severe yet composed. Silently, one of them inquired, “Are you okay, ma’am?”
I nodded, still in shock from the encounter and the effect of the message. “Yes, right now I’m fine.”
The officers led us out of the storage area. I saw the man being led in handcuffs out of the restaurant. There had been no gunshots, and everyone was safe. As things started to slowly return to normal, the atmosphere in the restaurant remained tense.
One of the officers, a tall man with kind eyes, approached us. “Emily here did a brave thing,” he said. “She helped us capture the suspect and kept you safe.”
I looked up at Emily, tears in my eyes. I said, “Thank you for saving my life,” in a trembling voice.
She smiled, but her eyes were still full of worry. I just did what I had to do. I’m glad you’re alright.
As I left the restaurant, I couldn’t help but hold onto the precious package and letter, thinking back on the unexpected turns that day had gone. What was first an awkward and confusing circumstance turned into a brave act that I will never forget. Emily’s bravery and quick thinking not only saved my life but also made it possible for me to enjoy a fantastic relationship with Brian’s unshakable commitment.
