“Hello, my name is Ryder, and I’ll be your safari guide for the evening. Can I take your order?”

“You’re not a safari guide! You’re nothing but a waiter!” The elderly customer said accusatorily. 

Ryder channeled all of his willpower into not rolling his eyes. “You got me there, sir.” 

The old man shoved the menu in his face. “I have a question! What’s the difference between Safari Fries and French Fries?”

“Nothing, sir. They’re the exact same thing.”

“Well, why don’t you sell regular old French fries?”

“We do sir, we just call them Safari Fries.”

The old man began shouting. “Why don’t you just call them French fries?”

“Because this is a Rainforest Café. Now, may I please take your order?” Ryder said through clenched teeth. 

The old man jabbed his cane at Ryder threateningly. “I want a burger with regular French fries. If you bring me Safari Fries, I’ll see to it that you’re fired!” 

“One burger with fries coming right up.” Ryder walked away and patted himself on the back for keeping his cool. He deserved sainthood for not snapping at rude and entitled customers. 

He’d been waiting tables at the Rainforest Café, nestled within the outdoor mall of Great Lakes Crossing, for six years. It’s one of the few Rainforest Cafés left standing. These hallowed halls were a relic of a bygone era of mediocre shopping mall cuisine.  

Ryder approached his manager, Amira, who had been watching the exchange go down. “Save me!” He whispered. 

She gave him a sympathetic smile. “You handled the situation like a champ.” 

“I know, right? I deserve the Nobel Peace Prize for dealing with these people. I can’t wait for my shift to be over.” 

“Do you have any special plans for tonight? I know today is an important day for you. You deserve to treat yourself.” 

“Nah, I’m going to bed early tonight. My ankles are killing me. Besides, today’s really not that big of a deal,” Ryder said, trying to downplay the significance of this particular anniversary. He preferred to keep all memories of his past locked away, but days like these made it hard to forget the person he used to be.

Amira placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “Being six years sober is a huge accomplishment. You’ve come so far, and I’m so proud of you. You should take pride in the person you’ve become, you deserve it.” 

The smallest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Thanks, Amira. I never would’ve made it this far without you. 

As he mindlessly cleaned tables, Ryder couldn’t stop the memories of his past from flooding back to him.

Ryder’s childhood had been plagued with suffering from the very start. His father was a lifelong addict who died of an overdose when Ryder was just six years old. He left behind a mountain of debt that Ryder’s mother, a public school teacher, worked tirelessly to pay off. With her meager salary, she could barely afford food and other necessities for her son. To add to these troubles, Ryder was a painfully shy and awkward child who constantly embarrassed himself in social situations and was relentlessly bullied at school. It seemed to him like his life would never get any better.

When Ryder reached his teenage years, he stumbled upon his father’s hidden stash of meth in the floorboards. Seemingly devoid of hope and overwhelmed by curiosity, Ryder eagerly sampled them. He was quickly entranced by the euphoric high they provided and plundered the entire supply like a gluttonous beast. Utterly addicted and desperate for more, he soon resorted to stealing from his mother’s meager wages just to buy more drugs. His mother was so furious when she found out, her wrath shook the foundations of the house. She issued an ultimatum that reverberated through the air like a thunderclap: give up the drugs or be thrown out to fend for himself on the unforgiving streets. The worst part was, he chose the drugs over the only person who had ever cared for him, and that was unforgivable. His desperation for the relief the drugs provided surpassed any love he felt for the woman who raised him. He stole the keys to her 1972 Ford Pinto, which was held together by duct tape and faith. He drove away as far as one tank of gas could take him.

The ancient vehicle took its last stand in Auburn Hills, Michigan, leaving Ryder stranded with no car, no home, no money, and most upsettingly, no drugs. He’d blown all his cash on a large bag of meth, which had since been depleted, and a face tattoo that read: No Regerts, which he deeply regretted. It was the middle of January, and the Michigan cold was cruel and unrelenting. Ryder hadn’t brought a coat or gloves with him when he ran away. To combat the cold, he spent most days inside the mall to stay warm.

Eventually, mall security got tired of his constant loitering and kicked him out. With nowhere to go, Ryder found an outdoor bench to lie on. He stayed in that spot for several days as the frigid temperatures nipped away at his skin. He prayed that death would come swiftly and put him out of his misery. Despite his pleas, the grim reaper never came for him. He cursed himself, knowing death was too kind a mercy for someone as wretched as himself.   

He planned to waste away on that bench forever until one day he saw a determined-looking woman marching toward him. He sat up and braced to be reprimanded and kicked out for having the audacity to be homeless. He hadn’t been on the streets for long, but he already knew the drill. As she drew closer, he was finally able to get a good look at her. She was a tall, confident woman with sharp, angular features and caramel-brown skin. She wore a proper business suit that hugged her curvaceous figure. She had a name tag from the Rainforest Café pinned to her lapel. The badge denoted her as a manager and had the name Amira printed across it in bold letters. “Excuse me,” she said.

He felt embarrassed to be in the presence of someone as put together as her. He looked like a greasy sewer rat and smelled even worse. He stood up and raised his hands in surrender. “Save your breath, lady. I know I’m not wanted here. Look, I’m already on my way out. Just please don’t call the cops on me,” he said, his voice laced with desperation. 

“I’m not here to kick you out,” she said in a gentle tone that reminded Ryder of the tone his mother used to use to calm him during panic attacks. “I just wanted to give you something from the café.” She handed him a takeout box containing a Rainforest Burger with a side of Safari Fries. 

Ryder eyed the box skeptically. He hadn’t even thought about food in days. His mind and body only craved one thing, and it wasn’t cheeseburgers. “I don’t want your food or your charity,” he said, rejecting her humble gift of sustenance. 

“What do you want then?” 

Crystal meth. He thought to himself but didn’t say. “I want to be left alone.” 

“Okay, I’ll leave you be.” She set the styrofoam box on the pavement beside him. I’m going to leave this here just in case you change your mind.” She disappeared, leaving Ryder alone with nothing but the burger and his thoughts. 

At first, Ryder just glared at the burger, refusing to eat it out of pure stubbornness, but as the savory scent of fresh beef wafted into his nostrils, his stomach began to twinge with hunger. Before he had time to think twice, he snatched up the burger and devoured it like a tiger that hadn’t had a kill in weeks. He then shoveled the fries into his mouth in massive handfuls until none remained. He was so ravenous he didn’t even notice that the food had gone cold. Even after the hearty meal, he was still desperate for more. His mind had been so consumed with the constant thirst for drugs he’d ignored his body’s need for nourishment. He’d neglected a lot of things in his quest for satisfaction. 

Amira returned the next day with another takeout box. This time she brought fajitas with a side of rice and beans. 

His stubborn pride stopped him from thanking her. “Didn’t you hear me the first time? I told you I don’t want your pity.” 

“But you ate it last time,” she said, gesturing to the empty box beside him.

He looked away guiltily and refused to speak. 

She placed the fresh box of food on his lap and walked away without another word. 

She came back every day for the next week with a fresh box of food, not at all deterred by his hostile attitude. Eventually, his curiosity got the best of him, and he had to ask. “Why are you always so kind to me? I don’t deserve this.” 

“Because I understand your pain.” 

He couldn’t hold back a humorless chuckle. “Oh please, you wouldn’t know the first thing about me or my pain. 

She stroked her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Let me guess, you were a troublemaker back home. No one ever taught you healthy ways of coping with trauma, so you turned to substance abuse. By the look of you, I’d guess you’re partial to stimulants. Then your addiction got out of hand, and either your parents kicked you out or you ran away. You were all alone in the world with nowhere to go, so you decided to lie here for the foreseeable future.” 

“How the hell do you know all that?” Ryder said, beginning to fear he was speaking to a mind-reading witch. 

Amira sat down on the cold bench beside him. “Because once upon a time I was exactly like you. Everything you’ve been through, I’ve been through it too. I know what it's like to make bad decisions and get lost in the wrong crowd. I was a delinquent and an addict just like you.”

“You were an addict?” He looked up at her disbelievingly, trying to reconcile the polished, put-together woman in front of him with this new information about her past. 

“Ten years sober,” she proudly confirmed. 

“Good for you,” Ryder said sardonically. “So now what? You give out burgers to random junkies to make yourself feel better about your own sorry past?” 

“I help others because when I was at my lowest, receiving kindness from others was the catalyst to my recovery. I’d like to help you do the same.”

Ryder rolled his eyes and sighed. “Oh, now I get it, you have a savior complex. You think you can magically fix me with the power of love or something. Trust me, I’m beyond saving. Don’t waste your time on me, I’m not worth it.”

“No one is beyond saving, but healing requires the will to seek help,” Amira said sagely. “Tell me, is this how you want to live the rest of your life? Sleeping on the sidewalk, being eaten alive by frostbite, collecting loose change off the sidewalks to save up for your next hit. Is that the future you want?”

Ryder remembered watching his father wither away before his eyes until he was unrecognizable from the man he once loved. He shook his head earnestly. 

“In that case, are you willing to put in the work to sober up? 

Sober. The word echoed in his brain. The drugs had rotted his mind to the point where he couldn’t remember what sobriety felt like. “I don’t think healing is possible for me. My father died an addict. My grandfather died an alcoholic. It’s my fate to die the same way. It’s a generational curse on my family. Call it destiny.” 

“Destiny doesn’t exist. We’re all responsible for the choices that we make. Now, you can lie here, wasting away, blaming your deceased grandfather for your lot in life, or you can get up and take control of your life. Addiction is a disease, and it’s not your fault, but it is your responsibility.” Amira stood up and offered him her hand.

Surprising even himself, he took her hand and rose to his feet. “What do I need to do to get my life on track?”

“First, we’re going to find you a job,” she said with a resolute expression on her face.

“Good luck with that. I’m a high school dropout with no skills and a drug problem. Who would hire me?”

“Can you wash dishes?” 

He nodded. 

“Perfect! You’ll start your training tomorrow at 11 am. In the meantime, we’re going to get you cleaned up.”

Ryder gazed at himself in the bathroom mirror before beginning his first shift at the Rainforest Café. He’d never felt so exposed and vulnerable in his entire life. He could almost feel the gaze of the monkeys on the wall, their painted expressions heavy with judgment. 

The day prior, Amira had coaxed him into taking a shower. His skin was still red and raw from harshly scrubbing away months’ worth of dirt and grime. Afterward, Amira dragged him to a local barbershop. He watched in horror as his matted, overgrown hair was ruthlessly shorn off. The tangled strands fell to the floor in greasy clumps, leaving him with a closely cropped crew cut. 

Now, Ryder hid in the café bathroom, self-consciously running his fingers through his freshly cropped hair. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine. He’d always loathed any sort of change, but he’d have to get used to it because this was the first step to changing his life. Without the veil of untamed hair to hide behind, there was nothing to obstruct the startling beauty of his turquoise blue eyes. He’d inherited those ocean-like eyes from his mother. He couldn’t help but wonder what she would think of him right now. Would she be proud of him for trying, or would she look down in contempt at the mess he’d become? It didn’t matter what she thought. He could never face her again after how he wronged her. 

He stared at the door and tried to muster up the courage to walk out of the bathroom and clock in. Who did he think he was? He wasn’t the type of guy who could hold down a job. He seriously considered retreating out of the emergency exit and leaving this place forever. Then he was forced to remind himself that his only other option was to die of hypothermia on the streets, which wasn’t a particularly appealing fate. “I can do this. I can do this. I can do this,” he repeated to himself, trying to force himself to believe it was true. 

“You need to chill out, dude,” one of his coworkers called out as he used the urinal. “You’re just a dishwasher. There’s no need to be so damn dramatic about it. Relax.” 

Ryder stood tall and straightened himself out. He was right. There was no need to get so worked up about washing dishes. He took a deep breath and opened the door to his new life. 

The road to healing was a rocky one, and he stumbled more than a few times along the way. The initial withdrawal was an excruciating experience, he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. Amira was there for him during every step of the medical detox, and she did everything in her power to ensure the process was as painless as it could be. He wouldn’t have survived it without her support. Although he avoided it for as long as he could, he also began seeing a therapist who specialized in treating addiction. Reliving his shameful memories from the past was almost unbearable at times. It turns out that self-destruction is easier than self-reflection. Even so, unburying the pain he’d kept hidden for so long allowed him to address it head-on, and learn to cope. 

The more time passed, the easier it became to leave the drugs in the past. Sometimes he still felt the all-consuming cravings claw at his mind, but he’d grown strong enough to deny their calls. He found an odd sense of purpose working at Rainforest Café. First, as a dishwasher, and later as a waiter. He thrived off of the repetitive nature of the job. The monotony of his new life was a stark contrast to his turbulent childhood. The consistent nature of the Rainforest Café was a great comfort to him. That was one of the reasons he decided to work there for six years. The other reason was that washing dishes and waiting tables were the only things he’d ever been naturally good at. Very few skills had ever come easy to him, but he found a simple joy in serving tables.

Ryder was snapped back to the present by the feeling of ice water splashing his face.

“This water is too bland! Bring me one with more flavor!” The wretched old man screamed. 

Ryder clenched his fists so tight that his nails left dents in his skin. “Right away, sir.” As much as he liked his job, certain customers made him consider burning the place to the ground.

Ryder disappeared into the kitchen to fetch him another cup of water. He seriously considered spitting in it, but he resisted the temptation. As Ryder stepped into the hectic restaurant, he saw a family consisting of a mom, a dad, and their young daughter seated at one of the tables. He was so stunned by the sight of them he nearly dropped his tray. He gaped in stunned silence as he watched the mother help her kid color a picture of Cha-Cha the Tree Frog and the other members of The Wild Brunch Club on the kids' menu. His heart broke as his mind flooded with memories of when she’d done the same thing with him. There was no denying it, the woman seated in front of him was his mother. She somehow looked exactly the same yet completely different. She still had the same sandy blonde hair tied up in her signature messy bun, and she wore the same thick-framed red glasses she’d had ever since he was a kid. She looked different as well. She looked stronger, healthier, and more put together. Her smile had a vibrancy he’d never seen before, not even before his father died. She looked at her daughter with such adoration. He couldn’t remember the last time her expression bore anything but disappointment toward him. Ryder swallowed a lump in his throat as he watched the family laugh together.

Ryder already knew all about his mother’s new family from snooping around on her Facebook page, and he thought he’d gotten over it. He’d moved on with his life, and his mother had moved on with hers. He was sincerely happy for her. She deserved to have a happy, stable family, unlike the astronomical screw-ups Ryder and his father had been. Even so, Ryder wasn’t prepared for the emotional impact that came with seeing them in person. He mourned the fact that he could never have something like that. They looked so picture-perfect sitting around the table together; they resembled the families from the stock photos that come with picture frames. There was no room for a washed-up twenty-three-year-old with a meth addiction and a face tattoo in a family like that. He didn’t deserve a family like that. 

The pain of serving his mother’s happy family was more than he could bear. Ryder took out his phone and sent a frantic text to Amira. I don’t have time to explain, but I need someone else to cover table nine for me. Please, it’s urgent. 

Amira texted back almost immediately. I’m sorry, Ryder, but we’re understaffed tonight. There’s no one else available to cover. Whatever the issue is, I know you can handle it. You’re the best waiter we’ve got. 

He was deeply flattered by her compliment while being simultaneously distraught over having to face his mother again. “Okay Ryder, let’s do this. Just play it cool and everything will be fine,” he whispered before waltzing over to their table. Maybe, if he was lucky, she wouldn’t recognize him. He’d changed a lot since the last time she saw him. His hair was shorter, his skin was clearer, and his waistline was several inches larger, not to mention the regrettable face tattoo. He pasted on the biggest fake smile he could muster. “Hello explorers, I’ll be your safari guide for tonight. What can I get for you this fine evening?”

His mother took in a sharp inhale of breath. “Ryder,” she whispered, her voice pained with an emotion somewhere between shock, disbelief, and sorrow. 

Apparently, she recognized him. It killed him inside to know his presence probably ruined her evening. He was resolute to finish his job. He pointed to his name tag and let out the awkwardest chuckle ever heard. “Yep, that’s my name, don’t wear it out. How are you all doing tonight?” 

An awkward hush fell over the table. 

The young girl finally broke the excruciating silence. “Your tattoo is spelled wrong,” She said, pointing an accusatory finger at his face. 

“Daisy! It’s rude to point out strangers’ misspelled tattoos!” her father scolded. 

“Yeah, don’t do drugs, kid. It makes you do crazy things,” Ryder quipped. 

“Mommy, what are drugs?” Daisy asked. 

His mother was still too bewildered by the sight of him to respond. 

Her husband squeezed her hand from across the table.  “Are you alright, Alyssa?” 

She blinked twice, then nodded.

“So, can I get you guys something to drink?” Ryder said, desperate to escape the conversation. 

“Um, I’ll have a root beer,” the man said, not taking his attention off of his wife. 

“Great choice, sir. I’ll get that right away.” Ryder sprinted away from the table before anyone else had a chance to order. Instead of running to the kitchen to fetch the drink, Ryder retreated to the bathroom to hide. 

The painted faces of the monkeys in the bathroom mural bore mocking expressions, as if they were all collectively laughing at his cowardice. They had every right to laugh, here he was running and hiding, just like he always does when faced with a difficult confrontation. Despite his tough-guy facade, on the inside, he was still the broken child who ran away from his mother’s love. Even though he knew he deserved mockery, he still wanted to punch those stupid monkeys in their smug little faces, so badly. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he’d sworn off punching walls. He wasn’t the kind of guy who destroyed things in a fit of rage anymore. He walked over to the sink and turned the grimy knob. He cupped his hands under the faucet and splashed the icy-cold water across his face. The refreshing wave sent a jolt down his spine, distracting him from his panic. Some of the water had soaked the collar of his safari uniform, but he didn’t care. He clutched the door handle and whispered, “No more hiding,” before stepping into the chaotic restaurant. 

His mother was standing right outside the bathroom door, waiting for him.

He pretended not to notice and tried to brush past her. 

She grabbed my wrist in a gentle yet firm manner and said, “Ryder, wait! Please don’t run away from me again.”

He swallowed the lump of dread rising in his throat. She must loathe him for his betrayal. She’d sacrificed so much to care for him, and in exchange, he robbed her blind and broke her heart. He was the lowest kind of despicable, and he more than earned her wrath. She would likely press charges. She had every right to, he stole her cash and her car. He was surprised she hadn’t sent the cops after him already. Ryder mustered up the courage to speak. “Alyssa, listen” He had no right to call her mom. “I promise I can pay you back for the car and all the money I stole. Just name an amount, and I'll pay it. I completely understand if you want to press charges.” He’d have to empty out his tattoo removal savings, and he probably wouldn’t be able to afford groceries for a month, but he didn’t care. He would do anything to atone for how he treated her. 

He closed his eyes and braced for her fury. Instead, she wrapped him into the fiercest hug and sobbed into his shoulder. 

He tentatively returned her hug. He never knew the appropriate way to respond to the emotional reactions of others. “Please don’t cry.” 

His words only caused her to sob harder. 

He held her closer, unsure of what else to do. He didn't think she’d ever held him like this. He’d always had an aversion to being touched, but right now, he never wanted her to let go. He felt the warm rush of tears slide down his face. “I’ve been the worst son ever. I've made too many mistakes to count, but the one I regret most is what I did to you. I’d do anything to take it back. I know nothing can undo the pain I caused. I need you to know how sorry I am.” 

“My precious boy,” She cupped his face in her hands. “I don't care about the money or the car. You’re alive! That’s more than I could ever wish for! All this time, I thought you were dead.” 

Ryder was taken aback by her proclamation. “You thought I was dead for the past six years?” 

She nodded, then burst into tears again. She hugged him even tighter. “The day after you left, a 1972 Ford Pinto caught on fire, killing the driver just a few blocks away from our house. The body was too severely burned to be identified, and I assumed the worst. I’ve been mourning you every day since then. The whole time, all I could think was that if I hadn't given you that ultimatum, you’d still be alive. I could’ve gotten you into rehab. Instead, I let my pent-up feelings toward your father cloud my judgment, and I thought I’d sent you to your death. Now I realize tough love wasn’t the answer, your actions were a cry for help, and I should’ve been there to help you through it instead of pushing you away.” 

“I’m sorry I let you worry about me so long. I should’ve reached out to let you know I was okay, but I was afraid you hated me, and you wouldn’t want to see me again after what I did.”

“It’s alright; I’m just so happy you’re alive and well. You look so much better than the last time I saw you,” she said, ruffling his hair.

“I’m in much better shape these days. I’m six years sober, going to therapy, and I even take a shower most days.” 

“You’re taking multiple showers a month? It’s a miracle!” his mother joked. 

“Ha ha, very funny,” Ryder said, unamused. 

“In all seriousness, I’m so proud of you for getting your act together. And you’ve got a job too. This is what I’ve always dreamed of for you.”

He fidgeted with his uniform self-consciously. “You’re not disappointed that I’m just a waiter? Don’t you wish I was working a more respected job?” 

“Not at all.” She clasped his hands tightly, providing a reassuring squeeze.“Listen to me, you hear? There is absolutely no shame in working at the Rainforest Café. As long as you're happy, I’m happy for you.”

“I love it here, Mom. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have a purpose, no matter how small of a purpose it is.” 

His mother beamed at him, her eyes shining with pride. "That's all that matters. I just want you to be happy. Speaking of which, why don't you come and meet your little sister?”

“I couldn’t. I don’t want to intrude on your family dinner. Besides, my presence would just make everything awkward. Go enjoy the night with your new family. I still have work to do.”

“Don’t be absurd. You’re a treasured part of my family, and you belong with us. Trust me, Daisy is going to love you. She’s always wanted an older brother.” 

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I guess I could at least say hi.” 

“Wonderful!” His mother took him by the hand and led him back to the table where the rest of their family was sitting. “Daisy, I want you to meet your big brother, Ryder.”