Bobby's Diner

by Wingate, Susan

  CHAPTER 15

  When Roberta pushed off of the floor from packing a box her face was beet-red. Vanessa could see how the divorce had taxed her. She’d lost a lot of weight. Her eyes looked sallow and empty. It seemed she needed a break from reality, needed to leave the house that was once hers and Rick’s together. Get away for a while, maybe. Vanessa knelt on the bedroom floor while her daughter lashed out in front of her.

  “She feeds on families like a fox in a chicken-coop, mother!” A globule of spit flew from her mouth and she wiped her lips with her arm.

  “Roberta, you do have a knack for the dramatic, dear. I think instead of engineering you should’ve gone into theatre.”

  “Mother!”

  “Roberta, your father and I…”

  “Were perfect together!”

  “Honey, no marriage is perfect.” She looked up at her daughter’s angry face and thought how much she looked like Bobby. Vanessa could tell Roberta knew what she insinuated. She turned away from her mother and walked out of the bedroom. The strong footfall of each step lessened as Roberta walked further down the hall, through the kitchen and out the back door. From her daughter’s bedroom, Vanessa heard the screen door slam and a metal chair scraping along the concrete patio in the back and then it stopped.

  Roberta and Rick lived in the house for so long Vanessa forgot when and how two people could collect all the mementos that fill drawers and shelves, crates and hangers, boxes in the garage and attic, but by the end of today, with her help, they would supposedly cut the collection in half—half Rick’s, half Roberta’s.

  Rick had been commuting for years to a job in Las Vegas. He’d wanted to move there for years but Roberta would have nothing to do with relocating away from the town she’d grown up in, her family, her friends. Also, Rick’s position in another town offered her a place to get away with him for extended weekends. Rick’s condo in Vegas had a pool and no maintenance so for Roberta it was like taking a vacation. For Rick, it was still work. Over the past year, Vanessa would listen to her daughter as she cried and complained about repeated arguments and Rick’s insistence for her to move there completely. In the end, he got his way but had to leave his wife to get it. He wanted to remain friends with Roberta and she was completely insulted by the notion. She couldn’t believe she would soon have to check the box ‘divorced’ on applications, or refer to Rick as her ex-husband. Roberta seemed blind-sided by it but Vanessa saw it coming long ago. Her daughter was self-centered but good-hearted, selfish but loving, intimidating but kind. She would watch Rick when Roberta talked, he seemed ill at ease anymore and quick to anger. He’d leave shortly after dinner and leave the women alone to hide out in his office. They didn’t make love much in the recent months—he was pulling away and Roberta was sincerely surprised when a man came to the door to serve her with divorce papers.

  Vanessa looked around Roberta’s bedroom now. She remembered how difficult her own separation had been on Roberta and now she was living it all over again. Vanessa had survived her divorce from Bobby. But, Roberta never forgave her father for leaving. Even, by that time a young woman, she didn’t understand the ways of married people. She definitely was not around during the initial fall of the marriage at eighteen when she went off to college. And, she was too busy with her and Rick’s plan to marry not long after they returned from school. As Vanessa sat on the edge of the bed and looked around she remembered the sadness upon accepting the fact that her marriage to Bobby was about to end. It was imminent but when she came along she blamed it on Georgette anyway. Georgette’s only fault in the divorce was one of timing. She came too soon.

  “Roberta.” Vanessa got up slowly as her daughter’s name slipped wearily from her mouth. She decided to tell her now before it was too late.

  Roberta sat alone and looked hopelessly onto the arid landscape. Only a few yucca and crepe myrtle were left blooming. Every other plant took on its usual olive hue or brown bark. The cactus garden was filled with thick- skinned prickly succulents of light buttery yellow to dark magenta. Her head was propped up in one hand on the arm of her chair and her feet were flung up onto the glass table. The skin on her ankle above her sock was tan and smooth. A sunbather from long ago, she remembered Roberta had just spent a final weekend with Rick in Vegas ten days before. Vanessa watched her for a second through the door then walked out to

  “Roberta, honey, we need to talk.”

  She looked up at Vanessa and her hand dropped from beneath her chin. “Grab a chair, mom.” Vanessa pulled another chair around so it was directly facing her daughter. She leaned forward. With both elbows on her legs she grabbed her hands in front of her.

  “Honey, I know this is hard. It was hard for me too.

  But, at least I could see it coming.” “What are you saying?”

  “Come on now. You know your dad and I were living out the decline of our marriage when Georgette came along.”

  “No, mother, I didn’t know that. Are you saying you would have probably gotten a divorce even if dad hadn’t been fucking around on you?”

  “Roberta! Please don’t use that language around me, I’m your mother, please!”

  “Well, what would you call it, mother? Sleeping?”

  “Jesus, Roberta. You can be so cruel when you want.”

  Roberta looked away momentarily and then looked back. “I’m sorry. I just want you to know that with your father and me there were signs, big signs. And, I wasn’t blind about it either. I saw. I saw.

  “He didn’t want me anymore, you know, sexually.

  He was at the diner until well after it closed doing things that could wait or things if he’d wanted to do at any other time, things we could have done together. But, he didn’t want to be around me anymore. I changed after you left. I guess I got a little selfish. I mean, I was getting older and feeling it. So, I went to the salon often for my nails, for hair coloring, facials, and massages. It wasn’t like we didn’t have the money, we did. But, I wanted to feel better about my aging, empty-nester-self. In doing so, I forgot about your father, his needs. He was working a lot and I was playing. By the time you left, we’d gotten a relief cook and I was living it up on my time off. Bobby was tired of working too but he still went in everyday like clock work. I’d take vacations without him because he couldn’t just shut down the diner. So, I’d go alone—cruises, beaches of Mexico, Canada, wherever I wanted. I thought I deserved it. Well, he’d been saying for a while how he was thinking about selling, the diner, that is. He’d bring it up and I’d shoot it down. We wouldn’t have an income if we sold, not like we did anyway. I just acted like he wasn’t serious but he was. He wanted out as much as I enjoyed being out. He was stuck, not me. So, I didn’t realize how serious he was.”

  “Mother, it still doesn’t justify what he did to you.”

  “That’s right, Roberta, what he did to ME. Not you. Your father and I and our divorce has nothing to do with you. I wish, oh, how I wish, you would get over blaming him for something you really know nothing about.”

  “My god . I’m in so much pain right now and you’re yelling at me?”

  “I was in a lot of pain too, honey. But, I didn’t have anyone to cry to. So, please stop acting like a child and get on with your life. Rick’s gone, get over it. Bobby left, I got over it. But, you? You hung on as if it were you who was married to him, not me. That was MY divorce, this is yours. Start dealing with it like a grown-up, honey. The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll get over it.” Vanessa stood up in front of her awestruck daughter, stepped into her, patted her shoulder and kissed her on the forehead.

  “Call me when you’re serious about packing up his things. I’ll be over in a flash. Bye, honey.”

  Vanessa understood Roberta was flummoxed by her mother’s forthrightness. She would be angry at first and think about all the ‘comebacks’ she could say when they saw each other next. She would manifest scenarios she could play out to some imagined finale. But in the end, her daughter would understand w
hy her mother confessed her parent’s sordid past. Vanessa knew she would understand. Vanessa knew this much about her daughter.

  From inside the kitchen window she watched as Roberta rested her head in her palm, put her feet back up, and did the thing she guessed she’d been doing a lot of these days, she cried.

  CHAPTER 16

  Everyone from the gas station to the grocery store was out in front when I arrived at work—everyone, including the police. They were hanging yellow crime scene tape around a couple of the store entrances—the mercantile and the pet store. I was watching while I leaned against my car in the diner’s parking lot. For fifteen minutes people milled about with their hands to their mouths. Talking closely together, talking in groups of twos, then threes… milling, talking, going up to the police, heading back to their group of two or three… milling. José drove up in his rusted-out Toyota Sentra. Dirt powdered up and wafted like a ghost off in a breeze when his car rolled from the paved road onto the gravel parking lot. I turned my head away to avoid the dust while still keeping my eye on the fuss going on. He parked next to me in front of the diner. Our sign was bigger than the other signs down the strip and teal blue with red lettering. It never failed to make me laugh when I saw that sign, like it was screaming to passers- by to pull off the road and come in.

  “What’s happening, Mrs. Carlisle?” Only at that moment did it strike me that José must have called Vanessa ‘Mrs. Carlisle’ too.

  “I don’t know, José.”

  “The police are there?”

  “Yep. I wonder what happened.”

  “Would you like me to find out, Mrs. Carlisle?” “Let’s find out together.” We walked together not speaking for about two hundred yards where the commotion was. We approached Markus from the gas station first. He didn’t see us walk up at all.

  “Hey, Markus.”

  “Oh, hey, Georgette. Can you believe this?” “What happened?”

  “Vandals. They ransacked a couple stores and set fire to one of the stock rooms.”

  “Oh my god .” Vanessa was going to flip out.

  “They think they might have latent prints so they’re going to take them back to the lab and see if they can find a quick match. They got one off the back door— they axed it down.” He sounded like a wanna-be lawman.

  “They axed it??”

  “Uh huh. Wanted in pretty bad I guess.” Markus looked at me sternly. I could hear concern behind his words.

  “Did anyone get hurt?”

  “No. No, thank the Lord, huh? No one got hurt, it’s a blessing really. A blessing.” Markus wandered away muttering about how good it was no one got axed to death in the process. José shadowed me as I worked my way in closer to the action.

  Then, Willy, one of the police officers came out carrying with him a plastic bag. A orange sticker on it read EVIDENCE. He tried to cloak it under his jacket.

  “Hey, Willy.” I acted like I didn’t notice.

  “Hello, Mrs. Carlisle.” He hadn’t called me that since Bobby’s funeral. He wanted to sound professional. “Willy? Did anyone see the person responsible for this?”

  “Person, Georgette? Do you know something you want to tell me?” He asked more hopefully than accusingly.

  “No, that’s not what I meant. Person, people. Did anyone see anyone?”

  “No one’s come forth with any information yet. Why do you ask, Georgette. Did you?”

  “No.” I started chewing on a fingernail. “No, I didn’t see anything, Willy.”

  Willy walked to one of the police cars and when he pulled out the baggy I could see it contained two tiny dead animals but couldn’t tell exactly what they were - blood was smeared on the inside and made it difficult to tell for sure. At the same time I noticed, I heard José gasp.

  “Come on, José. We’d better get to work. There’s nothing here we can do.”

  As I turned him away, José whispered, “Oh, Mrs. Carlisle, those poor little animals. Were they dead?”

  “Come on, José. Don’t look.” He kept looking over his shoulder with a look of terror and sorrow all mixed together.

  ***

  Vanessa was a half-hour late to work. Roberta was with her tailing her and saying she was wrong to have done it! By now, I was becoming accustomed to Roberta’s outbursts and overreaction to everything. She was nearly forty—my age—but she acted (in my estimation) much younger than that. Since the advent of her divorce she was on ‘high-alert’. No one was comfortable around her lately and now she was carrying on again.

  Vanessa rolled her eyes and walked in front of Roberta past me and into the office. “Mother! This is really not cool!”

  “Oh, Christ, Roberta. Give it a rest. It’s done and you have no say in this matter anyway. So, please quit acting out.” She huffed out of the office with Roberta tailing her still.

  “I may not have any say in this but… but…” She looked around at me and continued, “but, Georgette does!” Nailing her mother by using me in that manner. Vanessa’s shoulders dropped and she turned slowly back to face her daughter.

  “I really hope you’re leaving now.”

  “Well, ask her mom. Ask her if she thinks it’s a good idea.”

  Vanessa took a deep breath and turned to me. I was still standing in the doorway between the restaurant and the kitchen. I shrugged my shoulders and raised my eyebrows and made some helpless motion with my hands not understanding the problem. Vanessa walked up to me square in the face.

  “I bought a gun, you mind?”

  We were standing face-to-face but the showdown was between Van and her daughter. She looked weakened by the confrontation and I knew she needed a cohort in this so-called crime.

  “Oh, good. You got it?” So, I lied.

  I winked at her so Roberta wouldn’t see. Vanessa smiled smugly and turned to look at Roberta and opened her hands as if to gesture, see? Then, all hell broke loose.

  “You’re okay with this?” Roberta rushed up to both of us but directed her ire at me.

  “Your mother and I both make decisions around here,

  Roberta, you know that. A gun will give us a little added protection. What, with all the burglaries and whatnot it seems like a fine idea.” I looked back at Vanessa, “Just like we discussed, right, Van?” Her mother was beaming like she’d seen the second coming of Jesus or something.

  “You two don’t fool me. I know you didn’t know anything about it, you’re just lying for her. What a kiss- ass!” The pendulum had swung the other way and now the wrath was upon me.

  “Roberta, watch your mouth. Please, darling!”

  Roberta stormed out.

  After we heard the front door slam shut I turned to Vanessa.

  “You bought a fucking gun? What the hell has gotten into you?”

  The mood broke and Vanessa was flailing her arms and this’n and that’n and all and I shook my head when she was finished because I knew she wasn’t about to take the thing back and get a refund. She was scared. She reacted because she was scared.

  “Let me see it.” As we walked toward the office she sounded like a kid in a candy shop.

  “It’s sweet, Georgie, it’s pretty too, pretty and powerful, a .357 magnum. Shiny as a new bike.”

  And, she was right. It was pretty... pretty dangerous and I was fretting just to have it near me.

  “Do you know how to use it?”

  “I used to go shooting with my father. He’d take us not too far from here to Ben Avery’s Shooting Range. If I recall correctly I wasn’t all that bad too.” Hearing she had a brother again made me realize how little I knew about Vanessa. Was he still alive? Was he Dead?

  “Well, I’ve never even seen a real gun let alone shoot one.”

  “Then, we’ll have to get you some lessons. It wouldn’t hurt me any to take a refresher course either. We can go out and shoot it together. It’ll be fun. Really.”

  I couldn’t believe how giddy she was acting about this stupid gun. Guns had always been taboo with my mom
ma. She’d seen a man shot down in the streets of Milledgeville and she reminded me every time the subject of guns came up whether on TV or in politics. So, I was always a little afraid of them… respectful, if you will.

  “You’re a woman among women, Van, I’ll hand you that.”

  CHAPTER 17

  The diner’s garden had grown into a jungle of colors, smells, and tastes. Plants were growing at nuclear rates. We had knobby squash, beefsteak tomatoes, curly-leaf lettuce, just about anything we needed (or wanted) on a dish, we had growing in back of the diner. José had come straight from Manzanillo, Mexico: way down in south Mexico, where he was as a gardener at some shi- shi resort for tourists. He had a green thumb the size of a melon and when he wasn’t bussing tables inside you could find him outside weeding, turning soil, pulling ripened edibles, and talking to his ‘bambinos’ as he called them. José would sing Mexican folk tunes while he worked the garden. He said, “Hace que crecen grandes y fuertes!” Which means, his singing makes his babies grow big and strong. Over the years, José taught me lots of Spanish. In fact, after working with him for a couple years when we’d see each other we’d go right into the conversation of the language. I will always have José to thank for helping me learn another country’s native tongue and expanding my mind, not to mention, my horizons.

  José never missed a day of work except when his momma died. But, aside from that, he never missed a single day, never came in late, and didn’t ever call in sick. He loved working here—in the garden.

  Then, came one of the saddest days ever. I didn’t make the connection at the time. It had been about a week after that young man from Chariot came offering to buy our little business—our booming little business, the one worth $2.5 million dollars.

  ***

  “Mrs. Carlisle!” Josés voice sounded frantic over the telephone line.