Simply, Mine

by Jane Carrington

  I didn’t believe him. I could smell whiskey radiating from him. He moved around me and made his way to his door. He had left his keys in the ignition and I waited until he went inside to grab them and slip them under the seat. I would tell Jake later where they were. I didn’t want his father getting even more intoxicated and decide to run out and buy Jake an early Easter present as well.

  I turned toward home missing Jake and worrying for what he had to come home to. I supposed that even with all the shit my mother put me through, at least she didn’t drink. I couldn’t imagine dealing with that on top of everything else.

  Gathering close what little gratitude I could find towards my mother, I walked back in and attempted to make things peaceful. She was still furiously washing dishes and ignoring Kaylie, who was calling for her.

  I needed the powdered cleanser and scrub brush under the sink and I knew she wouldn’t move for me. Like a scorned determined child standing her ground. I opened with something she couldn’t resist.

  “You know, I don’t know how much I’m going to make, but I was thinking that since I’m going to be eighteen next month, I should give you something for, you know, rent.”

  She stopped suddenly and took a moment to turn around. When she did, her eyes were cold and skeptical.

  “You serious?”

  “Well, yeah. Like I said, I don’t know how much I’m going to make. I might not make that much. I don’t know if I’m going to be a good waitress.”

  “But you’ll share? You won’t turn your back on your mother, would you, Meggy?”

  The nickname Meggy irritated every fiber of my being. She only ever used it when she was mocking me or wanted something from me.

  “No. I don’t mind helping. But I’ll never make more than waitress wages if I don’t go to college.”

  Her face began to harden again and I spoke quickly to regain the ground I had gained with her.

  “Didn’t you ever want to be someone? Make a bunch of money and do something fun and exciting with your life?” It was a gamble to ask. It could soften her to a kitten or enrage her like a lion.

  She wiped her hands hard on the towel, threw it on the table and then put her hands on her hips. She stared up at the ceiling blinking hard.

  “Yeah,” she said finally. “I did wanna be somebody. I wanted to be a dancer.” Her voice cracked and she wiped angrily at welling tears.

  “A dancer? What kind of dancer?”

  “Ballet.”

  “I never knew that.” I was wary to believe her, she had been known to spin amazing stories to gain sympathy. But with nothing to gain from sharing—or spinning—this story, I wondered if it were actually true.

  “I went to lessons for a year when I was younger. But my mama couldn’t afford to keep sending me after a while. Then I had to drop out of school and help support the family. I spent some time dancing at Tom’s Topless. I always told myself that I would use the tips to pay for more ballet lessons and dance respectable again, but it never happened.”

  For the first time in as long as I can remember, my heart softened toward her and I felt a twinge of true sympathy.

  “But then I got knocked up in the back seat of a car and all those dreams were over. I couldn’t even dance at Tom’s after that for all the stretch marks I got, thanks to you.”

  The sympathy faded quickly.

  “Well, I’m going to college,” I said. “You might see it as a waste of money, but you need to see it as a way that I can help you more, once I make better money.” It was mostly a lie. When I did finally finish school and get a good job, I couldn’t see hanging around here one second longer than I had to. Lying bothered me, but making life livable while I had to be here was more important right now.

  “You can deal with that college stuff later, Meggy. Let’s just concentrate on you workin’ this new job.” Her eyes flew open and she smiled. I knew the rage was over. For now.

  “We could get a new TV! You know they go on sale toward the holidays…whatdya say, Meggy, will you buy your mama a new TV?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” My voice, eyes and heart iced over again. Whether it was through the state or my job at Hank’s, I was still only a dollar sign to her.

  Chapter 4

  When the social worker knocked on the door my mother shooed me out of the room. I cracked the door and sat on my bed, working on an English paper. My mother’s high-pitched and falsely pleasant voice said hello and gently reminded Kyle and Kaylie to calm down and sit on the couch.

  “Mrs. Davis, how are you.” I didn’t recognize her voice. I wondered if they had assigned our family a new one.

  “I’m your case worker, Nancy Harris.” She sounded young, new and eager. “I’ve reviewed your file and seen that Meagan has had nearly perfect attendance.”

  “Well, it’s been hard, sometimes she just doesn’t want to go, but I’ve been determined to see that she gets there every day.”

  I bit my lip and narrowed my eyes, furious. How dare she take credit for my demanding to go to school! She’s the one who kept bothering me to get a GED and work full time.

  “Well, good for you!” Perky Miss Nancy complemented. “Strong mothers make strong kids. She’ll thank you for your insistence one day.”

  The next bit of conversation was distorted. My head was pounding with a rage headache. I would have given anything for a CD player and headphones to drown it all out. I settled for humming to myself and pulled out my large drawing pad I kept hidden in the bottom of my closet. I had been out of colored charcoal for a long time, but I opened the pad to a clean sheet and found a pencil.

  I had no idea what I was going to draw. I never did when I started a new sketch. The pencil seemed to find its place and I started making wide horizontal lines. Soon I had what seemed like a horizon and I thought it would look great as a sunset, but with no colors it remained lifeless. I studied it for a long moment deciding if it wanted to be a beach or a prairie below the center line. I began to sketch a couple sitting close together on the lower center of the page. Snuggled close together, with her head on his shoulder. I smiled as they took shape and worked carefully on the details of her hair and his arm around her shoulder.

  No one knew about my drawing. It was my secret—my escape and to let anyone know of it was to threaten it. I don’t know if I could keep drawing if someone knew, and saw. The thought of showing anyone my artwork made me nervous to the point of nausea.

  I had thought about telling Jake a thousand times, but he would want to see them and would praise them, of course. Even though I thought they were good, especially for someone who had never taken an art class, I didn’t feel like I could take his praise for truth. He would never say anything that would hurt me. And the nature of my drawing was too embarrassing to share anyhow.

  While they weren’t pornographic in nature, to a mature person anyway, a lot of them were intimate. Lovers of all ages and shapes; some clothed, some not, clinging to each other, oblivious to everything in the world but the other. Some simply kissing, some in the act of love itself with arms, legs or bedding providing a shred of privacy or discretion. Others might think my drawings were obscene. I thought they were beautiful. The long graceful lines of my pencil people all had looks of adoration and devotion toward their beloved. I had gotten the idea from long rows of romance novels at the book store. There seemed to be no end to cover after cover of beautiful women swooning in the arms of a long haired hero. I liked the concept, but there was something missing. I played with the idea and soon found what I thought they lacked. It was all in the facial expressions and focus of attention. The romance covers seemed to yell out, I’m beautiful! I’m in love! Look at me! My drawings were more revealing in that they were less modest of body and emotion. The expression of one lover said to the other, You’re beautiful. I love you. I can’t see anything but you. The book covers invited the world in to experience their torrid affair. My characters didn’t even know you were there, so absorbed in each other as they
were.

  I smiled as I shaded the details of his knuckles, tightened in a protective grasp around her shoulder.

  The word ‘microwave’ pulled me out of my drawing trance and my heart skipped a beat. It always did when I woke up from drawing, feeling the need to hurry and hide my work before someone burst in the room and ruined it for me.

  I quickly realized an hour had passed The social worker was still here and was taking a list for Christmas, trying to get our family adopted again. My mother was telling her we could really use a microwave. And a vacuum. She shared her sob story of having to rent one from the neighbors once a week. She added a coffee pot and some room heaters. Christmas dinner of course, plus toys for the kids, a radio for me, and clothes. She rattled off our list of sizes, concerned that they leave the tags on so we could get the right size if it didn’t fit.

  If I didn’t know my mother so well, I might be touched by her willingness to swallow her pride for her kids’ Christmas. But I knew what she was up to. She would return almost everything and keep the cash for herself. What she ever did with that cash, I never knew.

  She went on with her want/wish list until even I thought it was embarrassing to ask for so much from strangers and in a time when so many were struggling. Assistance with the heat bill and a computer so I could do my homework ended her liberal begging.

  I could hear the social worker wrapping things up and I did the same with my drawing, gathering up my few supplies and worn sketch pad, hiding them in the bottom of my closet. I passed the rest of the long boring afternoon reading. Later, I walked down to Jake’s.

  As I had thought, he had to work an evening shift at the diner and I didn’t get to see him until the next day.

  ♥

  I walked into Hanks with my apron over my arm. I wasn’t nervous, I was outright scared. I didn’t know what I had been thinking. I hate dealing with people. I already began thinking of other jobs I could take—an operator or telemarketer; something that kept me hidden from the judging public.

  I saw the top of Jake’s head in the pass through between the eating bar and the kitchen. I wished he could trade me places. He could deal with demanding customers and I would go hide in the dish pit. Gathering my fortitude I felt a small surge of reassurance just knowing he was there.

  “Meagan! Over here,” Hank called and waved me over. I went behind the counter. “You can put your purse and coat in this drawer under the counter.”

  I didn’t have a purse, but I dropped my coat and cheap knit hat in and closed the drawer with my knee.

  “There’s been a slight change of plans for today. Jake’s going to stay mostly in the back washing dishes and helping me cook. You’ll follow Daisy around and maybe take a few easy tables of your own, but I’ll need you to do the bussing, too.”

  I nodded and glanced back toward Jake.

  “Now, there’s nothing to bussing. Just clear the dishes, wipe the table down real good, make sure the sugar, salt and pepper are full and reset the table with two empty water glasses and silverware rolls.”

  I exhaled, slightly relieved at my partially answered wish. Bussing tables was still public, but I didn’t have to directly deal with a lot of people outright.

  “You can use this tub here. When it’s full take it back and put it in the dish pit. And if Daisy hasn’t picked up her tip, just leave it on the table and she’ll be around to collect it. If you do a good job, she’s good about sharin’ a portion of her tips at the end of the shift.”

  I put on my apron and tied it tight around my waist.

  “Now, if you’re able, I’d like you to work a full shift, through the lunch and dinner rush since Jake is stuck in the back. Is that alright?”

  “That’s fine.” My stomach growled embarrassingly loud. “I was just too nervous to eat this morning,” I lied with a smile.

  “Well, you get a free meal for every shift. Just let me know what you’d like before you take your break.”

  At first I stiffened at the thought of charity food. Reading either my mind or my body language he quickly added, “That’s one of the perks of workin’ in a diner. It’s pretty standard.”

  “That’s great. Thanks.”

  “Well, I see four tables that need cleaning and the lunch crowd’ll be here soon.”

  I took my cue and my bucket, headed out to the front. There were only about twenty tables; a small enough place for two talented waitresses to handle at peak hours, I supposed. I started clearing a table, avoiding the curious eyes of patrons around me. I hated being the new girl in any setting. After two tables, the bucket was full. My thin arms strained under the weight of it, but I didn’t want to appear weak.

  As I walked through the rubber swinging doors that led to the kitchen and dish pit, Jake yelled out, “Hey.” He turned away quickly, moving to the stove. I heaved the bucket up onto the stainless steel counter of the dish pit.

  “Hey, Jake.” I smiled. He threw a hand up in the air with his back still turned. A small part of me panicked. His welcomes were always so warm and he had been so excited about working together. Plus I hadn’t seen him all the day before. I had to remind myself that this was a professional environment and we couldn’t act like best friends here. That had to be the excuse for his being so aloof. I turned away and busied myself with another table.

  Daisy turned out to be a very high energy, very kind, mother hen type. She had done this her whole life and was the picture of a lifelong waitress, slightly pudgy with curly gray hair piled high on her head. She had a bright smile and a loud laugh. Skilled and personable, she took me under her wing and had me follow her around, watching and listening when there weren’t tables to be bussed.

  After about three hours of observing, an older couple sat down at a small table for two in the corner.

  “Why don’t you go handle that one,” she said with a wink and handed me a blank order tablet and a pen.

  “Do you think so?” I glanced back at them nervously.

  “They are the sweetest old couple. Regulars here. They won’t eat you, I promise. Tell ‘em you’re new right off and it’ll be fine.” She put her hand on my back in a pat that turned out to be a nudge.

  It did turn out to be alright. They only wanted coffee and pie and to talk. I had to pull myself away from their chatter to go clean other tables. I did remember to check on them twice and they left a two dollar tip. I smiled as I slipped it into my apron and wiped the table.

  My first two bucks. And I earned every cent of it. No charity for me.

  Just then my stomach growled loudly. Working on an empty stomach had made me ravenous. I approached Hank not sure how to ask for a burger and fries.

  “Ready for lunch, kiddo?”

  I smiled and nodded. He looked over my shoulder at the floor. “Well, seems slow enough. I think Daisy can handle it. Whatcha want?”

  “Just a burger, I think.”

  “Coming right up. There’s a small table and chairs off to the side of the dish pit. That’s where we sit for our breaks.”

  I went and sat, picking up an old magazine along the way. It felt good to sit down. The arches of my feet were aching. I looked down at the thin canvas tennis shoes. I’d have to buy some good ones, when I could.

  I flipped through the magazine, not reading the articles, but looking at the pictures; looking for inspiration for some of my next drawings. I didn’t hear Jake until he set my plate on the table in front of me. He turned quickly, but not quick enough for me not to notice the bruised cut above his eye.

  “Jake, what happened?” He stopped, took a deep breath and turned around, looking bothered. “I just fell. It’s no big deal.” There was a large purple swelling with a half inch gash over his eyebrow and the left side of his bottom lip was swollen.

  “You fell? Where?”

  “At home. Look, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later.” He turned again, ending the conversation. I watched him until he turned the corner and then stared at my food. Something wasn�
��t right. I inhaled my food, flipping absentmindedly through the magazine. I didn’t see much that inspired me. Jake weighed heavily on my mind.

  Time flew after that. The dinner rush was constant and I struggled to keep up with the dirty tables. Daisy had me wait on two tables at a time and I spent the rest of the shift not knowing if I was coming or going. I think at one point I ran into myself in the dish pit. My concern over Jake didn’t help and kept me distracted. I was glad when the shift was over and I could catch my breath. Daisy showed me some of the closing duties; sweeping, vacuuming and pre-rolling silverware for the next day. When that was finished, she handed me ten dollars.

  “I’d say you earned this. You were a damn good busser, even for your first day.” She smiled.

  I took it and thanked her. Adding that to the seventeen dollars I had earned from my own tables, I felt pretty good about my first day. She gathered her things and left, while I filled a glass with soda and sat at a table waiting for Jake. I didn’t care how tired I was, I was going to wait and walk home with him. I could hear him clanging around the dish pit in the back. I heard Hank’s voice, talking too low for me to make out the words.

  The back lights went out to all but Hank’s office and they walked out together. They both seemed surprised to see me. Jake automatically turned his head away.

  “Love it so much you can’t leave, huh?” Hank laughed.

  “I was just relaxing for a minute, waiting for Jake.” I made no move to get up, hoping Jake would take the cue and sit down and talk to me.

  “Well, relax away. I’m going to be in the back counting the till. Give me a holler when you guys leave so I can lock up.” He gave Jake a hard pat on the back. “See you tomorrow, Jake. And Meg, good first day. Daisy said she thinks you’re going to work out just fine. Can you come back tomorrow for the dinner shift?”

  “I sure can.” I smiled. “Thank you.”

  He left and Jake shoved his hands in his pockets, avoiding my eyes.

  “Sit down, Jake.”