The soup is the best thing I've eaten since the steak.
I tell Marlene this when she comes to check on our table. She doesn't smile, but her eyes do something warm. She refills my bowl without asking and adds an extra slice of bread. Sophie watches this exchange with wide eyes.
"She never gives extra bread," Sophie whispers. "She likes you. She really likes you."
"I like her too."
"Everyone likes Marlene. That's not special. What's special is Marlene liking you. She's very selective. She once banned a customer for three months because he said her soup was 'adequate.'"
"Adequate."
"Adequate. Can you imagine."
I finish the soup. Every last drop. I eat the bread. I drink the tea. And when I'm done, I feel contentment. Real, warm, belly-full contentment.
"I should pay," I say, reaching for the cash in my pocket. "How much do I owe you?"
Sophie waves her hand dismissively. "Marlene will just say it's free again. She's like that with people she adopts. But I'll get the bill. Hold on."
She disappears behind the counter and returns with a small piece of paper. "Soup, bread, tea. Total is eighty-five thousand rupiah."
I stare at the number. Eighty-five thousand. I have no idea if that's expensive or cheap. I have no frame of reference for what things cost. The old Vivian probably never looked at prices. She probably just handed over a black credit card and signed whatever receipt appeared in front of her.
But I'm not the old Vivian. I'm someone who wants to tip.
Sophie has been kind. Marlene has been kind. They fed me and welcomed me and made me feel like I belong somewhere for the first time since I woke up in that hospital bed. I want to thank them properly.
I pull out the cash I found in the study drawer. There are several bills. I don't recognize the denominations. They all look similar. I pick one that seems reasonable. It has a lot of zeros, but maybe that's normal. Maybe everything has a lot of zeros in this currency.
"Here," I say, handing Sophie the cash. "For the soup. And keep the change. As a tip."
Sophie takes the money. She looks at the bill. Her face goes pale.
"Vivian."
"Yes."
"This is a hundred thousand rupiah."
"Is that too much? I can give more."
"No. No, that's not—" She stops. She's staring at the bill like it has personally offended her. "Vivian. Did you mean to tip me one million rupiah?"
I blink. "What?"
"This bill. It's not a hundred thousand. It's a million. One million rupiah. You just tipped me more than ten times the cost of the soup."
I stare at the bill. It looks exactly like all the others. I have no idea how to tell them apart. The old Vivian probably knew. The old Vivian probably had a whole system for understanding money. I have nothing.
"I thought it was fifty thousand," I admit.
"Fifty thousand." Sophie's voice goes very high. "You thought you were tipping me fifty thousand—which is still generous, by the way—but instead you tipped me one million."
"Is that bad?"
Sophie opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. No sound comes out. She looks at the payment terminal on the counter, then at the bill, then at me.
And then she faints.
Just collapses. Dramatically. Like a Victorian heroine who has received shocking news. She crumples to the floor behind the counter and disappears from view.
"Sophie!"
I jump up and rush behind the counter. Sophie is on the floor with her eyes closed and her body completely still. Marlene appears in the kitchen doorway, takes one look at the scene, and sighs heavily.
"Again," she says.
A lanky guy with glasses bursts out from the back room. He's clutching a laptop to his chest like it's a lifeline. His eyes are wide with panic.
"What happened? I heard screaming. Is everyone okay? Sophie. Sophie."
He spots Sophie on the floor and rushes over. He kneels beside her and checks her pulse with surprising competence.
"She fainted," I say. "I think. I tipped her and she looked at the bill and then she fainted."
The guy looks at the payment terminal. His eyes go even wider, which I hadn't thought possible.
"That's a million rupiah tip," he says.
"I know. I didn't mean to. I thought it was fifty thousand."
"You thought." He stares at me, then at Sophie, then at the payment terminal. Then he sits down very slowly on the floor next to Sophie.
"I need a moment," he says.
We sit there, the three of us, on the floor behind the counter of Marlene's Corner. Sophie is unconscious. The lanky guy is processing. And I'm a billionaire who has accidentally tipped a waitress one million rupiah because I can't read my own currency.
Marlene steps over us and continues wiping down the counter.
"First time she fainted was when a customer proposed to her," Marlene says calmly. "Second time was when she won a year's supply of free coffee. This is the third time. You're in good company."
"This happens often?" I ask.
"Often enough." Marlene looks down at Sophie, who is starting to stir. "She'll be fine. She always is. Just dramatic."
Sophie's eyes flutter open. She looks up at me, then at the lanky guy, then at Marlene.
"Did I dream it," she whispers, "or did Vivian just tip me a million rupiah?"
"Not a dream," the lanky guy says.
Sophie closes her eyes again. "I need another moment."
I help her sit up. She leans against the counter and fans herself with her apron. The lanky guy is still sitting on the floor, clutching his laptop and staring into the middle distance.
"I'm Kevin, by the way," he says. "I work here. Part-time IT. Full-time anxious mess."
"Vivian."
"I know. Everyone knows. You're kind of famous. Rich. Amnesiac. Tips a million rupiah by accident. You're going to be a legend."
Sophie finally opens her eyes and looks at me. "You really didn't know it was a million."
"I really didn't know."
She stares at me for a long moment. Then she starts laughing. Bright, loud, uncontrollable laughter that fills the entire café.
"This is the most Vivian thing that has ever happened," she gasps. "The old Vivian would have calculated the exact appropriate tip based on service quality and inflation rates. You just guessed. And accidentally made me rich."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. This is the best day of my life." She looks at the payment terminal again. "I can't keep this. It's too much."
"Keep it," I say. "Consider it back pay. For all the emergency cuddles."
Sophie's eyes fill with tears again. "You're going to make me cry. Again. I've cried three times today. This is a record."
Kevin, still on the floor, opens his laptop. "I'm documenting this. For posterity."
"You're documenting my crying."
"I document everything. It's what I do."
I look at Sophie, at Kevin, at Marlene who is pretending not to watch us. This strange, wonderful, chaotic little family I've stumbled into.
"I forgot I'm a billionaire," I say. "Again."
Sophie laughs. Kevin types. Marlene slides a slice of cake across the counter toward me.
"Eat," she says. "You'll need your strength. These two are exhausting."
I pick up the fork. The cake is chocolate. Rich and dark and perfect. I take a bite and smile.
I've found my people.
Even if I had to pay a million rupiah to do it.