“Young lady, it is all right.”
He started to move his chair.
“I can relocate.”
Nkiru looked at him.
“No, sir.”
Sola’s eyes widened.
Nkiru continued.
“You arrived first.”
“You ordered your meal.”
“There is no reason for you to move.”
Renée laughed.
Not loudly.
That somehow made it worse.
“Interesting.”
She looked at Sola.
“So waitresses now give lectures on rights?”
Nkiru felt the heat rise in her neck.
Still, her voice remained level.
“I am not giving a lecture.”
“I am saying he is a customer.”
Renée looked toward the old man.
“A customer buying one bowl of pepper soup.”
Silence spread to nearby tables.
Nkiru’s expression changed.
Sola whispered:
“Enough.”
Renée did not stop.
“Honestly, places like this need standards.”
She adjusted the bracelet on her wrist.
“Everybody should not be able to walk in merely because they can afford the cheapest thing on the menu.”
The old man lowered his eyes to his bowl.
That bothered Nkiru more than the insult itself.
He had done nothing.
He had not argued.
Had not raised his voice.
Had not demanded special treatment.
He had simply entered a restaurant and ordered dinner.
Nkiru said:
“Ma, I have to ask that we do not insult other guests.”
Renée stared at her.
“You have to ask me?”
Sola stepped between them.
“Nkiru.”
“Go to the service station.”
Nkiru did not move.
Renée looked almost amused.
“My father sits on your parent company’s executive committee.”
Nkiru glanced toward the old man’s soup.
Then back at Renée.
“Does that change the price of his pepper soup?”
The dining room became completely silent.
Sola’s face drained of color.
“Nkiru.”
She knew immediately that the sentence had gone too far professionally.
She also knew she did not regret it.
Renée stepped closer.
“Do not be clever with me.”
“I am not trying to be clever.”
“Then understand where you work.”
Nkiru nodded.
“I do.”
“That is why I am treating both customers like customers.”
Sola grabbed Nkiru lightly by the arm.
“That is enough.”
The old man spoke.
“Leave it, my dear.”
Nkiru looked at him.
His expression was gentle.
Almost apologetic.
That made her angrier.
“Sir, if I keep quiet because she is rich, then I am agreeing that money decides who deserves respect.”
Sola released her arm.
His voice became cold.
“Nkiru Eze.”
“Remove your apron.”
She stared at him.
“What?”
“You are suspended.”
Renée smiled.
Sola swallowed.
“Effective immediately.”
Nkiru looked around the room.
Coworkers avoided her eyes.
A bartender stared at his counter.
Two servers suddenly became fascinated by a tray of glasses.
Nobody spoke.
Nkiru untied her apron.
Folded it.
Placed it on the service stand.
The old man stood.
“Young woman.”
She turned.
“What is your full name?”
“Nkiru Eze.”
He repeated it once.
“Nkiru Eze.”
“I am sorry this happened because of me.”
She shook her head.
“It did not happen because of you, sir.”
Her voice softened.
“It happened because everybody else was afraid.”
For the first time, the old man smiled fully.
Then he asked for his bill.