Rose Bruno Bailey: Seasons and Survivors at Canters Deli

EDITOR”S NOTE: Rose Bruno Bailey spent a year working at Canters Deli, the dining spot on Fairfax Avenue that draws a substantial crowd from West Hollywood. This is the fifth in a series of six essays about her year there and the positive impact her boss, her co-workers and her customers had during a difficult time in her life.

Seasons, it’s one of those things East Coasters say they miss the most when they move to Los Angeles. Walk down any side street in West Hollywood in April and then tell me we do not have seasons. We do, but they are unique to Southern California. You can always tell when Spring arrives by the purple tree-lined streets, as the blossoms wistfully fall from the trees. When I run I call it my own personal red carpet, but it’s not red nor a carpet but a gift from the Jacarandas trees that usher in Spring.

Spring arrived at Canters too, and soon I realized there are problems in life that cannot be fixed with an upbeat playlist, a slice of strawberry cheesecake or pretty purple blossoms. My sister called to tell me my beloved mother’s health was declining. Seasons were quickly changing.

May began with good and bad news. My husband accepted a position with Fox Sports in Houston. We finally got what we were wishing for, but it meant we had to leave our beloved West Hollywood again. Then my worst fear came true, my mother was admitted to intensive care in a Cleveland, Oh., hospital. In denial, I continued to work, each day getting an update on her condition. I tried to keep my mind from believing anything less than optimistic. My co-workers at Canters were incredibly supportive, but they were also painfully honest with me. Many of them had lost their parents or were also dealing with an ailing family member, so they were speaking from experience. They warned me I needed to go home sooner than later. Of course with my financial situation and the upcoming move I didn’t have the money to buy a plane ticket. I made myself believe that she was going to pull through. I believed I had time.

My mother was not able to communicate with me during those weeks, but I could almost hear her say “suck it up kid.” So I sucked it up and kept waitressing until I had a major breakdown on Mother’s Day at Canters. It was such a busy day, everyone celebrating their mothers. Table after table I held it together until I lost it waiting on a mother and daughter opening gifts.

While on break I received a text from my sister explaining my mother’s dire condition. My eyes welled up with tears, and I wept uncontrollably — you know, that ugly hyperventilating type of crying that only comes when something horrible happens.

A few days after Mother’s Day I got surprise news that my mother was being sent to rehab. Sunday night I was in my usual upbeat mood now that my mother was improving, running Reuben’s to the kitchen, bantering with the staff and guests. One thing I never did on my shifts was look at my phone but for some reason that night after 8 p.m. I pulled my phone from my apron pocket to give it a glance. My heart stopped as my sister texted me that my mother took a turn for the worse. Two seconds later those final words that no one ever wants to hear. Mom just passed away. Mom just passed away.

I froze. Sheryl the night manager had the rest of the staff cover the counter. I stepped outside in a fog, the buzz of Fairfax was silenced by the ringing in my ears. I would never see her again, I was miles away in a restaurant doing the one thing that kept her from visiting her own family in Chicago over the years, I was waitressing to keep my family afloat.

Regrets are like Mack trucks, you don’t see them coming, and before you know it is too late and they run you over. The staff shared kind words and wisdom as I left for the night in shock and completely heartbroken.

Jacqueline Canter called the next day to offer her condolences and give me time off to grieve. I was moving June 1 to Houston, Tex., and my mother’s memorial was not until mid-June. So I thanked her but declined her offer. I had only six more days left at Canters Deli. Six days to show my gratitude to the place and people who helped me hold it together during my challenging year. I didn’t have closure with my own mother so I chose to close out the remainder of my days at Canters with grace and a grateful goodbye to the people who felt like my adopted family. It was a bittersweet way to hang up my own apron, but before it was time to go I sucked it up for six more days. My waitress mother would have been mighty proud.

Tomorrow:  Canters curtain call.