Dragonfly by Jax Hill 

There was a round of polite applause when Torstein finished his speech. Then those of us who were acting as waiters jumped up and trooped over to the kitchen window to pick up the trays of food and serve our honored guests. After everyone was served, we sat down with them to eat dinner and chat.

Torstein didn’t have a table to look after. He began to move among the various tables, shake people’s hands, learn their names, and talk to them. He was at his dragonfly best, flitting here and there in that crazy green coat, and getting people to smile, or cry, or tell him their stories.

I don’t know how to describe what he did, or how he did it. It wasn’t as if any of us could have put on the coat and become the dragonfly. There was something in him so bright, so electric, something that made him float above it all, and yet alight with you and be fully present in your personal drama.

That’s what he was doing. When he came to my table, I stood up so he could sit in my chair, which he did, grabbing my arm and holding onto it for a moment, letting me know he wouldn’t stay long, wouldn’t interrupt my dinner — and I gave his shoulder a squeeze to let him know I didn’t care. He started asking everyone’s name and shaking hands.

There were four guys together at my table; young guys who’d come to the casino together and were a little bit drunk and enjoying their dinner. There was a couple there, a middle-class looking guy and his wife. From what I gathered, he’d lost rather more than they’d agreed they would spend that day, and she was pretty peeved about it. She expected him to recoup their losses with the $10 they’d get for eating with us. Then there were two singles at my table: a middle-aged guy and a younger woman. The guy, I think he was a divorced dad whose wife had the kids on Thanksgiving, and he was at wit’s end what to do with himself. He warmed to Torstein right away, showed him pictures of his kids. The woman, she just seemed really sad.

Torstein said to her, “No family expecting you tonight?”

“No,” she said quietly.

“Me neither,” he said. “I’m free as a bird.”

She looked up at him and smiled a little.

“Have you been winning?” Torstein asked.

She shook her head. “No, breaking even, maybe losing a little.”

“Well, look,” he said. “When you’re done eating and you get your five bucks, if you don’t want to lose it, we could use you here. There will be a major clean-up to do. We’d be happy to have the help.”

“Really?” she said, just as if he’d offered to buy her a new pair of shoes or something.

“Sure. Just find me after dinner, and I’ll get one of the ladies to show you what to do.”

“Great,” she said. “Great. Thanks”

Torstein turned to the couple arguing over their plans for how to win back the money they’d lost, and he said, “Same goes for you two. We’ll have a job of cleaning up to do after dinner, and if you want to stay and help you’re welcome. You could still go home with $10 cash tonight ...”

I thought they were less likely than the woman to stay. But the divorced dad said he’d stay.

“Super,” Torstein said. He introduced the divorced dad to the young woman and told them to come find him after dinner, and he’d put them to work. I figured he was doing the same thing at every table — telling people they didn’t have to go back to the casino if they didn’t want to. They could stay here and have the pleasure of our company. It was weird how many people accepted!

By half past nine everyone was done eating. We still had a ton of food left over, so Torstein sent a lot of people out to tell the casino employees if they wanted to come on their break, they could eat here for free. We cut the kitchen in half, put the left-over food into warmers in one half, and started the tear-down and clean up on the other half.

Bruiser, Pete and I started turning off and tearing down the column heaters and lighting, leaving one area lit and heated for the casino employees who began to turn up in shifts. Half our wait staff took care of them while the rest of us organized teams to do tear-down and clean-up. It went fast because of how many gamblers had stayed to help out.

By 11 p.m., only one small area of our big tent was still lit, and warm, and we were all gathered there, sitting at the tables, talking and laughing together, drinking tea and Kool-Aid, and eating leftover pie. We’d had to buy the pies at a bakery; no one had enough time to home-make dozens of pies. They were really good though. About 30 of us had come with Torstein to make this dinner happen. I would say there were another 50 diners still sitting with us. When some casino employees showed up for their free dinner, sometimes it was one of the previous diners who jumped up and ran to get a plate for them.

It was nice, and kind of homey. And fluttering through it all, Torstein was still talking to people, touching them, offering them sunflower seeds, telling them to come and visit us downtown sometime.

Sully, who’d worked really hard all afternoon, had fallen asleep right after dinner. Now he was sitting slumped against Bruiser, who was being very quiet so as not to wake him. Maggie came and said, “I better take him home, you guys.”

Torstein heard and called, “Yah, anybody who needs to get going should go. Some of us will stay here until the food’s gone, and then we’ll pack it in.”

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