Uncharted Fate

by Racette, Cynthia

  Then he flipped through his rotary card file. "I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you right now," he said with a shake of his head.

  "Nothing?" Her spirits dropped. "You must have something I could at least apply for. You have hundreds of cards there.”

  "No, nothing. You are intelligent and presentable but the fact is, nonetheless, you have no real marketable skills. If you were younger and didn’t have a family, I’d tell you to go back to school. I realize you can’t afford to take that long with the position you're in. Also, if you were younger, we might be able to place you in a job with a training program. Unfortunately such programs usually ask for applicants in their early twenties."

  "Couldn’t I try applying to some places, anyway? They might consider me."

  "I’m sorry. We can’t. It’s against our policy. If we sent applicants who were unqualified to companies, they’d stop using us. The word would get around that we were unreliable. We have to maintain a good reputation for reliability. It’s the only way we can stay in business."

  "It sounds to as if you’re more interested in serving your companies than the individuals who apply to you."

  "In this business it’s the same thing. If we don’t keep the corporations happy, we don’t get listings, and if we don’t get listings, we don’t serve anyone." His voice had turned testy and she began to wish she kept her mouth shut. He’d probably never call her now.

  "If anything comes up for which you’re qualified," he said, with palpable annoyance, "I’ll let you know right away. Meanwhile, I suggest you keep looking on your own."

  Anna’s shoulders sagged in defeat. "Yes, thank you, I will. I have to get a job soon." She'd had about enough of him and stood, glaring at him in anger. "I’ll make it on my own, thank you. Something will turn up soon, I'm sure." Then she stormed out of his office, furious, hurt, and disappointed.

  Depressed, Anna wandered around downtown for a while, unwilling to go home and face her empty house in the mood she was in. She saw the sign for Betty’s Diner on Court Street down from the unemployment office, and decided to go in for a cup of coffee.

  As she stood aside to let two elderly ladies come through the door, she noticed a small, white card tucked into the window beside the door. ‘Waitress Wanted.’

  Anna’s heart skipped a beat. They needed a waitress and the sign didn’t say ‘experienced.’ She looked around her as she stepped into the diner. On the inside it looked like one of those places from a sitcom about the fifties or sixties, what was it, Happy Days? Only this was the real thing. They were actually playing oldies, too. She could hear the strains of “Peppermint Twist” coming from a speaker in the ceiling. It might be interesting to work in a place like this.

  The diner was slightly run-down, but clean, with a row of red vinyl-covered stools in front of a gray Formica counter, and booths along one wall. Although the décor was less than glamorous, the diner did a good business, especially at lunch. Businessman and shoppers frequented it because they served good, home-style meals at reasonable prices. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was a decent, homey place, and she decided to apply for the job. Her situation was beginning to get desperate and she couldn’t afford to be choosy anymore.

  After waiting for five minutes by the cash register for the waitress to get a second to come over, Anna was told the proprietress was in a small office in the rear. She knocked on the doorframe, and a small plump woman with blue-gray hair, probably Betty, looked up from a ledger. "Yes? May I help you, miss?"

  Anna smiled, anxious. "I’d like to apply for the waitress job. I saw your sign in the window."

  Betty looked at the expensive wool dress Anna wore, hanging below her short, black, fur jacket. The woman started to speak, perhaps to say ‘no.’

  Then she looked into Anna’s eyes and something she saw there must have changed her mind. "Come in and sit down, please." She pointed to a black vinyl kitchen chair opposite her overcrowded desk.

  Anna sat on the edge of her chair. "I’m afraid I have no experience."

  "No doubt." Betty raised one eyebrow and sat back in her chair, chuckling. "I get the feelin’ this is the place where I’m supposed to say, ‘What’s a classy dame like you doin’ in a joint like this?’ Because lady, you don’t look like you need a job at all, let alone a waitress job in a diner."

  "I know." Anna shifted in her seat and smoothed the blue wool over her knees. "I was dressed for an interview with an employment agency. The interview fell flat." As Betty raised her other eyebrow, Anna explained, "You see, I’m not really qualified for anything."

  Betty shook her head. "This next question has got to be on the list of questions I’m not supposed to ask, nevertheless, my curiosity is killing me, so put an old lady out of her misery, will you? Why do you need a job like this?"

  "My husband was killed in a car accident last November. We didn’t have enough insurance and now I have to get a job."

  "Poor dear." Betty shook her head in sympathy. "November, you say. He wasn’t the man who was killed by that robber, was he?"

  "Yes, he was."

  "What an awful thing. It was a cryin’ shame. The guy who’s a criminal is never the guy who gets nailed. It’s always some poor innocent fella with a family." Her eyes were warm and sympathetic. "If you’re applyin’ here, I take it you didn’t have no luck any place else." She held up her hand. "Don’t get me wrong. I love this old place and it’s been my life for a long time, but I got no illusions. We ain’t on Times Square and this ain’t no fancy French restaurant."

  "The way the man at the employment office put it," Anna said wryly, "I have no 'marketable skills.' All I have are three years of college with a useless major in English Lit. I’ve been looking for a job for four months. I’m willing to do any sort of work. I know I haven’t got any kind of waitressing experience, but I’m a good cook, and I’ll work hard. I’d learn fast. I’m sure of it."

  "I admire your spunk." Betty looked down at her application. "Missus, ah, Lamoreaux, isn’t it?" Anna nodded. "I’ve got no doubt you could handle the job, and if you want it, it’s yours."

  "Oh, wonderful." Anna sighed in relief. She’d finally done it. "I’m very grateful."

  "I only hope you feel the same way a week from now. Got any problem with starting tomorrow? We’re pretty strapped since we lost a couple people. You’ll work Tuesdays to Saturdays, seven to three. Our biggest crowds are breakfast and lunch."

  "I’ll be here." Anna secretly hoped she’d be working during the dinner hour, since that time of day was hardest for her. However, she was so thankful to have a job, she didn’t say anything. "I noticed the waitresses are wearing blue checkered uniforms. Where can I get one?"

  Betty stood and turned to open the locker behind her. "I got them here. Like my girls to be all alike. What size do you need?"

  "Size twelve."

  "Good. I got a nice looking one in your size. Needs washing, though. And here’s a navy apron and cap. Down the street they carry white uniform shoes, like nurses wear. I suggest you get a pair this afternoon. You’ll be on your feet all day and they’ll need lots of support."

  "Thanks, I will." She took the clothes and rolled them up in a bundle. "Ah, what does the job pay?"

  "Minimum wage plus tips. And if you smile pretty, you get more tips."

  "I’ll try." She shifted the bundle into one hand, and reached out for a handshake. "Thank you, Betty, for taking a chance on me."

  "No sweat." Betty gripped her hand firmly, her gray head bobbing. "You deserve a break, if you can call this job a break."

  "Oh, it is. You have no idea. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at seven."

  Anna purchased a pair of white tie shoes that felt good on her feet, and headed for home. Now that she had the job, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Never in her wildest imaginings would she hav
e predicted, six months earlier, she would end up working in Betty’s Diner. As much as she hated to admit it, she was more than a little anxious about how everyone would react to her news.

  Rose’s comment said it all. "Betty’s Diner? Oh Anna, what a dive."

  Anna bristled. "No, it’s not. It’s a clean, decent place, and they serve good food. I tried some of the better restaurants and none of them would consider hiring me without experience. I have to start somewhere. I need the money."

  "But the job won’t pay enough for you to meet all your bills, will it?"

  "No. It’s better than nothing, though. I have some of the insurance money left. It’ll pay the difference for a while."

  "But what happens when the insurance money runs out? What will you do then?"

  "I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Maybe this job will be temporary. The employment agency is continuing to look for something, I think."

  "Poor Anna. You’ll be run ragged in there."

  "Other people do it. I’m no different from anyone else, and it’s good, honest work."

  Rose sighed. "You’re right. You’ve banged your head against the wall since Christmas, trying to find a job. I wish you’d been able to find something better. I want the best for you, Anna. Only the best."

  "I’ll be fine." She squeezed Rose’s hand to reassure her.

  Rose gave her fingers a return squeeze. "You’ve got a lot of guts. I admire you for what you’re doing."

  "I’m just doing what I have to do."

  "Still, I’m not sure I’d be as brave in your shoes."

  Anna took a deep breath. "I wish I was brave. Right now I’m only scared."

  Later, Mallory chose the moment when Anna was coming up the cellar stairs, slipping the clean uniform over her head, to walk into the kitchen from school. "Ugh. What’s that?"

  "That," Anna said, trying to look confident and cheerful, "is a uniform."

  "Huh. You look like you belong in ‘Mel’s Diner.’"

  "No-not Mel’s. ‘Betty’s Diner.’"

  "What?" Mallory stood stock-still.

  "I got a job at Betty’s Diner on Court Street."

  "You’re kidding." Mallory looked at Anna’s face and stepped back. "Mom, tell me this is a joke." She backed away further. "Some of the kids go there after school for fries and Cokes. Tell me you’re not going to be a waitress there."

  "I am. But, don’t worry. I only work until 3:00, so I’ll probably be gone before much of the after school crowd shows up."

  "Mom. How could you?" Mallory threw out her arms in supplication. "How could you do this to me?"

  "I can do it to you," Anna said angrily, "because we are rapidly running out of money and I needed a job—fast. Do you have any idea what the payments are on this house? And the heating bills? And the electric and water bill? Telephone? Taxes? Food? I’ve looked everywhere for four months, and I’m getting desperate. I needed to find something soon or we’ll starve."

  "Couldn’t you work in a factory somewhere where no one would see you?"

  Anna’s arm swept in an angry arc toward Mallory. "Enough. One more word and you’ll be grounded for a week. You’re not too big to discipline yet, young lady, and won’t be for a long time. You remember that the next time you get out of line."

  Mallory’s mouth quivered and she backed toward the door. "Just a minute," Anna said. "I’m not through with you yet."

  Her daughter hesitated, clearly torn between her need for open rebellion and the respectful manners that had been inculcated in her over the years. She chose to stay, but half her foot was out the door before Anna even spoke.

  "I want you to understand this is a good, honest job. Any job at which you work hard and give your best effort, is never something to be ashamed of. Since your father’s death, it is now my responsibility to feed, clothe, and house this family. If this job at Betty’s makes it possible, I’m grateful to have it. It’s far, far better than nothing at all. You have to accept all this. You have no choice."

  Mallory eyes flashed. "You may be able to make me accept it," she said, quivering, "But you can never make me like it." She turned and fled to the sanctuary of her room.

  Anna sank onto a chair and leaned back with a shaky sigh to stare the ceiling.

  "What’s she mad about now?" Brian asked, sauntering through the kitchen with an apple he’d gotten from the fridge.

  Oh no. I’m not ready for the other one yet. Anna sat up and braced herself. "Your sister doesn’t like the job I got."

  "You got a job?" Interest sparked in his eyes. He knew Anna had been looking, but he never seriously believed she’d find one. Anna could easily read his thoughts; she was his mother. She was there when he got home from school every day and she baked him cookies. Being an employee someplace didn’t jibe.

  "What kind of job?" her son asked.

  "I going to be a waitress," Anna said, trying to act casual. "At Betty’s Diner."

  "Really? I didn’t know you could do that." Having a great fascination for restaurant dining and an insatiable appetite for his favorite lunch, the BLT, he added, "They make great BLTs. Lots of bacon. Remember when we stopped there for lunch after we shopped for my school clothes? I got a BLT then. If I go there when you’re working, would it be you who makes me the BLT? Like you do at home?"

  "I’m not sure who would make it," Anna said, astounded by his reaction. She’d expected him to be displeased, as Rose and Mallory had been. She smiled to herself. If she’d been thinking straight, she’d have known. The way he watched, with great fascination, every single detail of the goings-on at the restaurants where they used to eat out, she’d often wondered if he’d grow up to be a restaurateur. Sometimes he made a concession to fancier restaurants and ordered turkey and dressing, his other great love. This job of hers must seem like a dream come true for him. At least someone would be on her side.

  "When will you be working?"

  "Seven to three on Tuesdays through Saturdays."

  His face fell and he withdrew into himself, eyelids fluttering down. "You won’t be here in the mornings before I go to school, and you’ll be gone all day Saturday?"

  "I’m afraid so, honey. Those are the hours they need me. I can’t go in whenever I want. I need this job too much to haggle over hours." She lifted his chin with her fingers. "I’ve talked to Rose and she’s agreed to watch you when I’m not here. I’ll wake you up at 6:30 then you can get dressed. Rose will give you breakfast and you’ll wait there for the bus. I’ll be home by the time you get back from school at three thirty. And on Saturdays, you’ll stay at Rose’s."

  Squeezing his chin, reassuringly, she tried to get him to look at her. "You understand I don’t really have a choice, don’t you?"

  He nodded, then pulled away from her. "Yeah, sure." He turned to go.

  "I hope you’re not too upset by my job, honey."

  "No." He stared down at the carpet, obviously thinking. "I guess it’ll be interesting having you being a waitress at a restaurant." He glanced toward the door, clearly eager to be out of there. "I want to go now, please."

  Anna watched him, fearful that this was adding to his obvious distress over losing his father.

  Brian wandered down the hall and into the rec room, where he turned on the TV set, and curled up in a ball on the couch. His thumb slipped underneath his belt, the way he used to tuck his thumb into the top of his diaper.

  He missed his father. He still felt like it was his fault his father would never walk into the house at suppertime again. Sometimes he thought for a brief, mad moment he heard his father in the basement, banging wood and clattering around. A couple of times, he started to get up to join him, as he used to, and then he remembered his father was dead and so the sound must have been something else—the dryer or the furnace.

 
; And now his mother was been taken away from him, too. He would barely have his shoes and socks on in the morning before he was pushed out of the house and his mother went rushing off down the street in her car. And on Saturdays, she’d be gone almost all day. Little League started in May. Would he play every Saturday morning game all alone, with no one to watch him?

  He’d thought about those kinds of things a lot—Little League games without his father around, but he’d figured his mother would be there at least. Now, no one. Maybe he wouldn’t bother to try out this year. At the end of last season he'd wanted to make the majors. Now he didn’t know if he still cared about that anymore.

  He rolled over and buried his face into the back of the sofa, his thumb tightly clenched into his belt. Rocking slowly back and forth, he eventually fell into a troubled sleep, plagued by dreams of being chased. He ran frantically from a horrible pursuer, and felt himself fly off the edge of a cliff, falling, falling. He woke up with a jerk and, for the first time in many years, slipped his free thumb into his mouth.

  After supper, Anna told the kids she wanted to get to bed early to prepare for her new job. Brian said he was going to bed, too, and Mallory eventually promised to go after she finished her homework.

  Locking herself into the bedroom, Anna stared at the beige and green wallpaper Mike helped her put up not too long after they moved in. Her toes curled into the high pile of the light green tweed carpet they’d both picked out at the carpet store and she reached to smooth out the forest green comforter Mike had good-naturedly let her spend too much money on.

  Except for buying a truckload of furniture to fill the vast empty spaces of the new house, they hadn’t redecorated any room except the master bedroom, a private place they’d made themselves to spend intimate moments in.

  She went to the closet and looked in. Most of Mike’s clothes had been removed by her and Rose after Christmas, except for a few favorite things she’d been unable to part with. She pulled out his robe and pressed it to her cheek. She’d made herself leave it on its hook, unworn, for several weeks. Now she needed its comfort.