Bobby's Diner

by Wingate, Susan

  “Have a seat.” He twisted the control to close the blinds. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee?” “A glass of water would be great.”

  He walked out and closed the door part way. She wondered why he would shut the mini-blinds. Did he think she would act out or cry? She felt her body tense and begin to quiver. No sooner did her fears begin to grip her that Willy walked back in. She jumped when he spoke.

  “Here we go… oh, I’m sorry, Vanessa. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He placed the water on the table by her.

  “I always forget how nervous people get in this place. I’m used to it, of course. But, I remember a time when I wasn’t. You okay?”

  “Sure, Willy. Thanks.” She slid the paper cup closer to her and held it firmly with both hands. After she was sure her hands wouldn’t shake she lifted the cup and took a long gulp. Willy watched her as he sat down in the chair facing her. “That’s better. I’ll be fine. I’m just, well, nervous, like you said.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing. I just want to ask you a few questions about the day, you know, of the shooting.”

  Vanessa nodded anxiously. “Where were you that day?”

  “I had gone to a doctor’s appointment in Flagstaff. It was at eleven in the morning and lasted the better part of the day. I think I left there around five-thirty that afternoon, around then. I stopped and had a quick dinner before heading back home.” Willy started scribbling notes on a tablet of blue-lined yellow paper. “What’s the doctor’s name? I’ll have to verify your times.”

  “Well, it wasn’t really with a doctor.” Willy looked up from the notes he was taking and set his pencil down when Vanessa hesitated. She could sense he wasn’t happy with her response. “I was at the medical center at the university, having tests.”

  “I’ll need someone’s name to verify this, Vanessa. Can you tell me who I can contact there?”

  “The technician’s name was Caroline Tagel. She pronounces her name, Carol-I-ne.”

  “Do you have a phone number I can call?”

  “Not with me.”

  “Well, what department is she in?”

  “Willy…” She paused a moment and shook her head. “I’d rather not say.”

  “Vanessa, you can’t withhold information from us.” “But, it has nothing to do with the shootings.” “Vanessa.” Willy grabbed both of her hands in his.

  “If this is embarrassing to you, I’ll do everything in my power not to let it out, if I can. But, seeing as how this is a medical issue, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. We are very sensitive to this sort of thing. It comes up more than you’d think.” He smiled sincerely at her. Vanessa smiled back and looked down again in order to drum up the courage to tell Willy about the cancer.

  ***

  Willy stared as Vanessa walked through the double glass doors of the entrance and down the stairs outside. The sun was blazing down and a dark shadow haloed the concrete sidewalk around her feet. He felt sorry for the woman he’d known almost as long as he’d lived here.

  A meeting with Bill was next. He had more information today than yesterday and the pieces of the puzzle were slowly beginning to paint a picture of the night in question. He felt they were only steps behind the killer. They needed to find a shoe that matched the imprint picked up from the crime scene and a man driving an SUV, the same SUV Georgette saw driving away before she showed up at the diner and found Roberta.

  He’d had mixed feelings about Georgette, the other woman, the mistress, those sorts of thoughts; but, saving Roberta seemed to clear the slate for her. If she hadn’t shown up, Roberta would be dead now. As Vanessa walked out of view, he wondered if she knew.

  CHAPTER 27

  Exactly one week after the autopsy, José was shipped where he wanted to be buried. Maria escorted his body in the hearse to the airport and then to Mexico. His family welcomed her sadly. His funereal mass, the burial, and José’s fiesta de vida continued for the better part of an entire morning, afternoon, and evening. The large family celebrated him and the memory of him.

  That same day Vanessa and I held a quiet ceremony in the garden behind our diner. We were standing by a special pepper patch of José’s. In it we constructed a cross that we hung photos of José on. One was José and Bobby as they dug out a spot for the very patch where we now stood. His eyes were smiling and his denim overalls were covered in dirt. Bobby stood behind him like a proud father as José pointed at a pouch of seeds in his hand. There was a wedding photo of him and Maria, and, one of him selling vegetables to a tourist. Others covered every inch of the white wooden cross, others just as representative of José and his sweet demeanor.

  Days before the ceremony for José, we had told several of our customers about the service we intended to have and explained the circumstances around his death.

  People can be so kind, strangers even, in times of desperation.

  Vanessa began to read from the bible a passage from the Book of Esther. “And when these days were expired…”

  But a man stopped her when he called out gently from over by the garden gate. We turned to look and saw Arnie standing under the garden’s arch. We could only see just behind him. There were a few regulars from the restaurant. Vanessa’s hand came up to her chest, her eyes got watery, but she beamed in gratitude at the crowd. My head dropped and I wept openly. I cared no less about letting people see me the way I was feeling at the moment. Nobody cared either. Arnie brought his wife and he let her and Helen walk through in front of him and up to us. After that, it was a parade of friends who showed up for José. Glenda came with the rest of our wait-staff, Mr. & Mrs. Rigger walked in gloomily and slowly, Detective Mark appeared behind them, then Willy, the EMTs, and Reverend Carney. The reverend carried a bible and a box of money he’d collected from his parishioners for Maria. After that I couldn’t tell you. They just kept coming.

  All I remember is the garden was full.

  Then, Vanessa continued, “And, when these days were expired, the king made a feast unto all the people that were present in Shu’shan, the palace, both unto great and small, seven days, in the court of the garden of the king’s palace.” She stopped and said, “Amen.”

  The crowd followed suit.

  Even after so many years of living here, I still felt a little uncomfortable around the town folk. My strength came from doing something good for José, something

  Vanessa and I had not planned.

  “Vanessa and I hope you’ll all stay for a bite to eat and to toast José.” I looked at Vanessa for approval. “Yes, please. It would be wonderful if you could join us.”

  ***

  Our little diner was packed. We opened up the doors to anyone who stopped by that day in honor of José. The menu was thrown together fast. But, as you might have suspected we served, fresh vegetables and salsa made from José’s peppers and tomatoes, chips, queso, and bean dip. We drank red wine and raised our glasses in appreciation of our friend. We told stories, new and old, and remembered him. He filled our hearts that day and won’t be forgotten by the people he touched.

  CHAPTER 28

  It was always a little strange for me to be at Vanessa’s house. But, lately she’d been asking me to do little favors for her while she was at the hospital. I didn’t mind and actually enjoyed helping someone out. She would ask me to do little things like take mail to the post office, or run a deposit to the bank, or pick up a few groceries. Her key was under a rock in a potted plant on the back porch and I’d let myself in back there. The back door led straight into her kitchen. On the terracotta kitchen counter by the phone, she kept a stack of mail neatly against the wall, a note pad, and a cup of pens and pencils.

  It was the day Roberta was being discharged from the hospital. I was bringing by cookies and a few gifts.

  Plus, I was delivering some milk, eggs, and a few other staples she’d asked me to pick up for her and I accidentally knocked the letters and bills and the cup with the pencils in it off the counter. I stepped
over everything that had fallen and put the bags of groceries down by the refrigerator then went back to clean up my mess. Pens and pencils rolled everywhere and papers scattered across the floor. I didn’t mean to but I noticed a bill from the university labs. That one was in an envelope. But, she had a couple of the actual bills without envelopes underneath it. The bills had the oncology department printed on its header and listed the patient name: Vanessa Carlisle, and described the treatment received: mammogram (on one); biopsy (on one); and result consultation (on another). My breath caught and somehow got tangled between my lungs and my heart. The fourth letter was still in an opened envelope and although I was incredibly curious I wasn’t about to pull out its contents and read it. I felt guilty enough for rustling through the open ones and seeing the confidential evidence Vanessa had kept to herself. Did Roberta know?

  The day she got her consultation was the day of the break-in, the day of the shooting. That’s what everyone referred to it anymore. No one wanted to say “the day José was killed and the day Roberta almost died!” The day was dubbed the day of the shooting by nearly everyone in town. That’s why we couldn’t find Vanessa, she was learning about her own breast cancer.

  I heard a car pull into the driveway and hurriedly stacked the bills together and put them back on the edge of the counter. When I walked out she was already helping Roberta from the passenger side.

  “Do you need help?”

  “She’s doing so well, Georgie, really well!” She sounded like a new mother watching her toddler learn how to walk.

  “Why, yes, she is.”

  “Will you two stop? I’m fine. Please, mother, stop coddling me.”

  Roberta sounded like her old self again and was slapping at her mother’s hands which were trying to help. It appeared at no time was Vanessa doing the right thing for her daughter. Then, I had the brief notion that the discharge of this patient came more out of concern for the nurses than Roberta’s recovery, but like I said, it was a brief thought. Vanessa had successfully helped her out all the way by then and Roberta was standing, no wait, leaning against the car. She was holding her side and wincing.

  “She sure sounds spunky.”

  “I’m he-ere. I can hear you both talking.” The old Roberta was back with a few bumps and bruises but she was back.

  “You’ll need help for a while. You let your mother help you. I have some more things in my car. I’ll see you both inside.”

  ***

  Roberta was sitting at the kitchen table when I came back in and Vanessa was putting on a strong front for her daughter. She had hot water simmering on the stove for tea and had washed a couple of dusty teacups that appeared to have been in the cupboard for a while.

  “Want some?” Vanessa looked at me and held up a teacup.

  “Oh, no, Van. Thanks though. I have to get back home.

  Tomorrow will be the first day back at the diner and I have a few things I need to do before we get real busy again.” I inadvertently looked at her chest to see if I could see anything. I don’t know what I was thinking and when Vanessa saw me she quickly turned back toward the kitchen sink. Covering for what had just happened I said, “Roberta, there are cookies in this bag and, in this one, a few books and things. And, Van, I put a casserole in your refrigerator so you won’t have to cook tonight.” I looked back to Roberta. “You can go through this stuff when you get comfortable… or hungry!” I laughed and she laughed with me. The teapot began to whistle it was boiling and Van got a couple of bags of chamomile tea and placed one in each cup.

  “Well, I’d better get. Take care, y’all.”

  “Wait, Georgie,” Roberta moved as if she was going to get up.

  “Don’t get up. What is it, honey?” I walked over to where she was sitting and she held out her hand to shake mine.

  “Are we business partners all of the sudden or did I miss something?” I knew she was trying to reach out— trying to say ‘thank you’—so I grabbed her one hand in both of mine and leaned into her and kissed the side of her face and I whispered in her ear, “I’m so very happy you’re all right.” When I pulled back from being there longer than what a person would think is normal, she had tears in her eyes. “Don’t you start that, you hear? If you do, I will and I don’t want to! So, stop it!” But, it was too late. Roberta was full-on crying by that time and laughing at the same time. So, I did stupid things in front of her—I clog-danced and all of me wiggled and jiggled and stomped—to make her laugh more which made her gut ache which made her laugh more, then act mad at me, and then stop crying. Vanessa was watching the whole thing as she leaned against the counter behind her.

  “If she busts a suture it’ll be your fault, Georgette.”

  “Yeah, yeah, if…” I turned to Vanessa and winked at her and said my good-byes, again, and began to walk out.

  “Georgette.” Vanessa walked to the edge of the counter where I stood and put her hand onto the stack of bills, looked at me and slid the bills against the wall. My eyes dropped to her hand and followed her movement. Our eyes met. Hers told me she knew I’d seen something she didn’t want anyone to know. She gave her head a tilt toward her daughter and widened her eyes with fear. “Thanks, honey, for everything.” My head shook up and down in agreement, not for the thanks but to let her know her secret was safe.

  I was about to my car and nearly ready to cry when Vanessa ran out to stop me.

  “Georgie, wait up.” When she got to me she was very upset. She’d been hiding it well inside the house. “She still can’t remember what happened.”

  “Anything?”

  “Nope. The doctors said it could last a week or a year.”

  “Well, let’s hope it’s sooner than later. Is she going to see anyone?”

  “I think so but she’s not sure.”

  ***

  I was amazed at the amount of e-mail messages I’d gotten without having many friends and having absolutely no living family. Yet, daily I’d get notification of millions of dollars being held in some fictionalized account for me… or a Viagra promotional… or another on-line catalog advertisement. And, daily I’d delete them all after reading them in their entirety. Loneliness was my best friend lately. I blamed my ennui on not working for the past week and, of course, I still missed Bobby terribly. I got up to go to the bathroom and as soon as I sat down I heard that telltale ding of mail arriving in my inbox. After washing my hands and face and brushing my teeth I decided to see what it was.

  It was a letter from RobCarBan@aol.com. I double-clicked it.

  Dear Georgette,

  Thanks for everything. I know you’ve been carrying the load for mother these past few days. We both appreciate how much you’ve helped out. Thanks for the food too! The casserole was very tasty. But, I preferred the cookies. I should get shot more often… just kidding.

  It’s chicken-shit that I’m telling you this in an e-mail, I should call and talk to you personally, but I’m sorry, I just can’t. Thank you also for the wonderful gifts. I love the dream journal and writing materials. I’ve already started jotting down some of my thoughts about things, life, you know?

  But especially, Georgette, thank you for giving me Dad’s “favorite” pen and the

  lovely note you wrote me. I’m deeply touched by this, you don’t know how much, honestly. You’ve been more than a friend, Georgie, much, much more.

  Profoundly, Roberta.

  I wrote back,

  Thank you one million times, Roberta. Love, G.

  CHAPTER 29

  She looked in the closet on what used to be Harold’s side. Only a few slacks hanging and shirts neatly pressed and buttoned at the top like he asked her to do. All of the hangers pointing in the same direction toward the wall and all of the shirts facing out toward the door of the closet—five dress shirts in total, five pairs of slacks. His seersucker suit had been sent back from the hospital, and his luggage sent back from the highway patrol. They deemed the collision an accident and didn’t need to investigate f
urther or hold in evidence any of Harold’s belongings that were found in his crumpled vehicle. The bag was unopened and had remained that way until this morning, the morning she decided to build up her courage and go through Harold’s things. It’s what wives do when husbands die. She felt she should cry but had not. Guilt outweighed her sadness. She wondered how Georgette had handled this process. But, she knew Bob and Georgette had experienced what only a few lucky married couples experience together—a caring, loving life—much different than hers and Harold’s. Oh, sure, Bob and Georgette had troubles now and again, she knew for a fact, but nothing they wouldn’t survive.

  She pulled out his ten pieces of clothing and laid them on top of the neatly made bedspread. One-by-one she unbuttoned the collars of the shirts and one-by-one she folded them each and laid them properly in a box marked ‘Thrift Store’. After which she pulled Harold’s piece of black and grey paisley luggage up onto the bed and opened the lock. It smelled like Harold. She held her breath before opening it. After talking herself into it she lifted the lid and let it fall back onto the bed. The turquoise suit was squashed inside it to fit along with a pair of cowboy boots, his briefs, a zippered bag with his grooming items inside, and a leather folder he carried with him when he went to and from his office at the courthouse. She set it aside and began pulling out and folding the clothing and placing them all in the box intended for the thrift store as well.

  Helen unzipped his carryall and pulled out his shaver, shaving gel, toothpaste and toothbrush. She let her thumb run up and down the bristles a couple of times and she gazed up and out the small window. She realized then she was on her own. No more Harold.