“Do whatever you like, bring a radio or plants, this is your space,” he tells me.
It seems a bit odd to get all settled in for a job I’ll only be having for the summer, but it’s a nice gesture.
Other than Milton giving me a few stacks of papers, some folders and then opening the file cabinet drawers to mayhem and disarray, he left me to it. Without instructions on what he wanted specifically done, I organized in a way I thought was easiest; color coded. Milton left for some meeting or something just after my arrival, and I was glad I didn’t have the extra pressure of him watching me or something. When he comes back in the afternoon, I explain my progress, how I chose color coded so he didn’t have to waste time reading folders and finding the right ones.
“Misdemeanors are green, felonies are red,” I tell him, as I go down the list, also explaining the master list I’ve taped to the side of the cabinets.
“Wow,” he says with raised brows and I feel good at not only the majority of the work I got done today, but that he likes what I did.
“Wow good?” I nudge.
“Yes, yes, very good,” he smiles.
I smile back and then there’s this weird tension between us for a moment, before a knock comes at the office door that has Milton turning away from me. I glance at the clock and move toward the desk, reaching in the bottom drawer to retrieve my purse.
“Good work today.”
Milton’s voice has me standing and turning, almost bumping into him as he moves beside the desk.
“Thank you.” I smile and that awkward energy between us is building again.
Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the one putting out weird vibes. But he’s definitely looking at me like…well, not like a boss does to an employee. It’s not creepy or anything, just different.
“Well, I need to get home. I start my shift at the diner in a little bit,” I finally tell him as I step around him.
“You’re working there too?” he asks with furrowed brows.
“No offense but there’s not much else to do around here but work,” I smile, tucking hair behind my ear. “Do you need me for anything else before I go?” I ask.
My question is innocent enough, but I realize the implications after I’ve said it. He gives me a long look, then shakes his head.
“No, enjoy the rest of your night, Faye.”
I hurry home. It’s after dinner and I want to see Sweetie before she has to go to bed. My dad’s car isn’t in the driveway, and I’m bummed to see Sven and the guys are already gone. Entering through the screen door, I hear Sweetie singing upstairs and Gaye on the phone in the kitchen. She barely gives me a glance and I know she’s probably talking to a friend back home, because it’s about my dad being ‘mean to her.’ My wooden clogs clap on the wooden steps as I see the light from the bathroom on, peaking around the doorframe to see Sweetie in the claw-foot bathtub, singing a Partridge Family song and smacking the water with her fingertips. Waiting for the chorus before I turn the corner and together we sing, “I think I love you, so what am I so afraid of? I’m afraid that I’m not sure of a love there is no cure for.”
Her face lights up with surprise as she giggles through the lines. Kneeling beside the tub, I lean in and kiss her wet cheeks.
“How was your day?” I ask, running my thumbs along her cheeks.
“Good…but I didn’t see nothin’ today,” she says with a frown.
“If you saw magic every day, it wouldn’t be special anymore,” I tell her, knowing it’s not true. Sweetie is magic and seeing her every day is more than special to me.
I wash her up and we talk about our days. She asks me how work was while I put her in bed and lay down beside her. Before I can finish, she’s asleep. Leaving a kiss on her eyelids, I hurry back down the steps, I have ten minutes to get to the diner and I’m glad when Gaye’s still on the phone and doesn’t stop me. I run toward Main Street, slowing my pace as I approach the lights from downtown. Almost having my breathing regulated once I open the doors to the brightly lit diner. It’s packed, busy and loud. Not an empty seat in the place. As I make my way over toward the counter, the head waitress, Eleanor, spots me and waves at me, motioning for me to go toward the back behind the kitchen. The kitchen is hot and smells good and it’s just as loud back here. Chaos with cooks and food sizzling.
“I have a uniform in the back for you. You look like a medium. If it doesn’t fit I’ll find you another one later,” she tells me and I nod, before she’s turning and heading back to the counter.
I was scheduled to work just tonight and then be off until after the fourth of July. I knew one of the waitresses was leaving to have a baby and tonight was the only night the diner was fully staffed and available to train me. I hoped I’d learn what I needed in one night, because walking through the place for two minutes had my heart racing and doubts rearing their ugly heads.
Entering the girl’s bathroom, I see the waitress uniform hanging in a plastic bag on one of the stall doors. It’s a pale blue short-sleeve dress, with a white collar and trim. The skirt fits me fine, a little shorter than maybe appropriate where I come from, but I’d noticed all the waitresses’ skirts here were short so I figure it must be the style. The top is too tight over my chest and in an attempt to make it not so obvious, I leave the first two buttons undone and almost cringe at how much cleavage I’m showing as I give myself a once over in the mirror. I pray my parents never show up during a shift.
Adjusting everything and feeling about as comfortable as I can in the outfit, I bite the bullet and leave the confines of the lavatory, I can do this. Pumping my self-esteem up as I walk down the hallway toward the patrons, I recite my mantra I used during my pageant days and lift my chin. It doesn’t even falter when the first person I see after coming through the swinging doors is Cleopatra Eyes.
“Oh, look who it is, Elly May Clampett. Are Jethro and Granny comin’ by tonight for supper?” she asks in a terrible mocking of a southern accent.
“Fuck off Tippy,” someone says beside me and I look to see a very pregnant brunette holding a tray piled with dishes. “Can you help me take this to table thirteen?” she asks, practically pushing past Cleopatra.
Taking the tray from her, she grabs an additional four plates, stacking three on her forearm and one in her hand in a way I marvel at. She leads us toward the opposite side of the diner, near the windows and I stand there as she takes the plates and sets them in front of the patrons. After I help her deliver food to three tables, she finally introduces herself as Patty and gives me a rundown of the place. Managements cool and gives generous bonuses as long as you don’t miss a shift or come in late. That Tippy’s all talk and no bite, but she’s related to the owner, a niece or something, so she thinks she can do whatever she wants.
If I thought it was busy when I came in at seven, it didn’t prepare me for when nine o’clock rolled around and the younger crowd began meandering in. I didn’t know so many people lived in this town, let alone hung out after dark. Where I came from was a ghost town after six.
I basically help deliver food and take drink orders for Patty, enjoying that the patrons are introducing themselves and asking me how the renovations on my great aunts’ house is going. I’m realizing that in Plantain, just like where I come from, everyone knows everything going on. It doesn’t bother me, but rather makes me feel like I’m getting to know the place I’ll call home for a little longer. Remerging from the bathroom after a little break, I stand beside Patty as she waits for an order from the kitchen.
“Can you go take table nines drink orders?” she asks, not looking at me, but at the ticket in her hand as she double checks the plates in front of her are correct before delivering them.
I nod and turn, looking down to retrieve the order pad and pencil from the front of my apron as I blindly approach the table I think is nine, not looking up until I’m mere feet from it, from him…Sven. He’s sitting at a half circle booth with his friends I recognize and I swallow thickly. He’s looki
ng at me. Arms resting on the table, his friends laughing and messing around, but he’s just calmly sitting there. I want to ignore the little flicker of something I swear I see in his eyes when he realizes it’s me. The way they then scan over my body, my bare legs and my unbuttoned shirt. The shirt’s done me well tonight, earning me a tip along with Patty, which she says never happens and suggests I keep the uniform as-is. A group of customers pass between us and I wait until they clear by, before taking the final few steps toward him. His lips part, his chest rising as he breathes deeply, and I feel myself doing the same. I didn’t feel like it was stifling hot until now, or that my outfit was cutting off my oxygen.
“Faye,” he says softly, looking up at me.
He’s in a t-shirt, dirty jeans, boots and hands still dirty from work. He looks manly and I wonder why he hadn’t cleaned up since leaving my great aunt’s. I stand there, pad raised in one hand, the pencil propped and ready in the other, yet, I can’t click into gear. We’re just here and close. Memories of the movies, the kiss…I feel my skin flame and goose bump at the same time.
“You need to clean the bathroom,” I hear from behind me, just as an elbow is pressed into my back and has me stepping aside to relieve the sharp pain. I know who it is, but I look over at Tippy in surprise. “Someone had an accident in the men’s room, and newbies clean.”
I’m almost relieved at her interruption and say nothing as I hurry toward the back and out of sight, finally feeling like I can take a breath as the swinging doors behind me move back and forth before settling. At first, I’m repelled as I enter the bathroom after getting the mop and bucket, a brown chunky substance is splattered over the floor and toilet in one stall. But it only takes a moment to realize it’s just chilli. Tippy’s come in here and dumped chilli all over. Nice, juvenile but effective. Once I’ve finished and return to the main floor, Tippy’s ‘servicing’ Sven’s table now. This chick is seriously possessive and needs to calm down. I debate on whether or not to tell her that Sven doesn’t want me, that he’s told me as much and she didn’t need to worry about it. But after cleaning the bathroom, the boss calls me back to his office to fill out some paperwork and when I come back out from cleaning, Sven and his friends are gone and my shifts over.
6
FAYE
Originally when I agreed to work for Milton, it was only supposed to be four hours, but after I organized everything in my first week, he found more for me to do and as the days went on, my hours were increased. More because I wanted them to. What was the point of leaving after a few hours with work that would just sit there until the next morning, underneath the paperwork from that day? Milton didn’t seem to mind, or even stiff me on the pay. My first check shocked me; he’d paid me more than I anticipated, but I wasn’t going to argue with the man. We worked well together and often enjoyed time together. Usually we sat in his office eating lunch while listening to the news on the radio, little conversation, more like just enjoying one another’s company. I was comfortable with him and was enjoying his company, even if he was my boss.
As the days passed, I didn’t see Sven other than the occasional times where he might still be lingering around the house cleaning up the day’s work. I lived for those moments, absolutely lived for them. The rush of excitement, the pounding of my heart. I felt alive with that magic in my body when the person I dreamed about was right there. He’d always stop what he was doing, look at me like I was standing there naked and give me a small smile. We’d stand not even remotely close to each other, but still that connection was strong and had me wanting to go to him. But I remember what he told me, that we couldn’t do this and I’d find myself disappearing into the house.
My mew sort of friendship with Milton, had me wondering if I was interested in Milton or if I was just trying to push Sven out of my head. I wondered if he was developing an interested in me too. Nothing obvious or outright, just an observation. I took it in stride when he’d bring me coffee when he’d go to get his, or like once I’d mentioned I liked doing crossword puzzles and a book of them showed up in my drawer. Or that daisies are my favorite flowers and a bouquet of them would show up in a vase on my desktop every Friday. It was nice and I didn’t know if I should bring it up to see what his intentions were. I mean, I did stop and get him a paper every day on my way to work. Maybe he was just returning the favor? He hadn’t asked me about my personal life, other than knowing what he knew already from my dad.
I wasn’t interested, but wasn’t I? Maybe a few dates would be nice, some male company with a neutral guy. I wanted Sven, more than ever since there was now a label between us that it wasn’t going to happen. Regardless, whenever I thought about maybe asking Milton out for dinner after work or something, the mere idea had me feeling guilty.
One Friday I enter his office, he’s on the phone sitting at his desk and I find myself walking over toward some shelving I notice whenever I exit, but never stop to look at. When I see several photos of a few women, and study the smiles for similarities of relation.
“This your girlfriend?” I ask, looking at a photo of him and a beautiful woman.
“No,” he says over my shoulder, standing near to my back, so near I feel his heat. “That’s my sister Jill.”
“Oh, she’s very pretty,” I comment, not wanting to turn around.
“She’s about your age. She’d take you out I’m sure, if you were looking for something to do around here,” he tells me, his breath stirring my hair.
I swallow thickly, not sure what to do, but my body reacts to his proximity. It’s not making me uncomfortable what he’s doing. I like it. It’s not weird, but it is. He’s my boss and well, I like Sven. A gentle brush of the front of his pants against my butt has my back tingling and it’s like we both freeze as the time ticks in silence between us.
“This is my girlfriend,” he finally says when I don’t answer, reaching above me to retrieve a frame.
“She’s beautiful,” I state honestly. Her dark hair frames her heart-shaped face, her eyes are big and green, her appearance striking. “Does she live here in Plantain?” I ask, not recalling anyone this pretty in Plantain to be honest.
“No, she lives in Bannister, but she’s in Europe on vacation with her family right now. She’ll be moving here afterward, we’re to be married.”
“Oh,” I smile, turning to face him. Yet, he doesn’t step back. The tips of my breasts brush his chest and I swallow.
I look up at him, meeting his eyes as he looks down. We share the air between us, unsure what to do.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asks, his voice a soft caress of breath across my lips.
“No,” I whisper, looking down. He’s who I should want, who my parents would expect for me. What? No, I don’t need to please them. It’s time I do what I want.
Just when I feel like I need to move aside, Milton steps back, turning away from me and moving toward his desk. He jots something onto his desk pad and I inhale deeply as quietly as I can, not to let him know that his proximity had had an effect on me.
“Here’s her number, my sister,” he tells me, turning around to hand me the paper. My eyes look toward it and away from the tightness at the crotch of his slacks.
Taking it with a smile, I hurriedly get my stuff and go. I’m relieved all his gestures were out of kindness, but then, clearly, he was turned on by our proximity, and maybe I was too. Maybe I was sending signals I hadn’t intended, and I kick myself, continuing my internal fight all the way home.
I’m saving up a nice chunk of money from each check, and tucking it into a hat box under my bed. The house is coming along, although every morning I was off to work before any of the guys got there and was home after they’d left for the day. Even though I tried not to think of him, I hoped to catch a glimpse of Sven every day. He didn’t want me around, but there was something inside telling me not to give up on this.
Because I’m working so much, I’m missing a lot of quality time with Sweetie. But she’s spending
her days with Gaye, and that’s good for her. I know Gaye treated Sweetie better when I wasn’t around, so it seems that for once, things are all clicking.
It’s almost July fourth, and my best friend Gwen’s just arrived to spend the long weekend with us. I’ve known Gwen since she was twelve, both of us new to fat camp. We had that connection where you see someone and just know you’re going to be friends. We were at orientation and smiled at each other before sitting together on the bleachers and instantly becoming friends. This long weekend is sort of my last hurrah before I begin my shifts at the diner on top of working with Milton, and I want to enjoy it.
I squeal and launch myself into my friends arms as my dad and I pick her up from the bus station in Bannister. Gwen’s taller than me, with long chestnut hair and big brown eyes. She’s grown out of her chunky phase, and is skinny as a rail, flat chested and can wear anything she wants. She’s still self-conscious of her body, like I am, like anyone who grew up thinking, feeling, or being overweight. Because the basis for our friendship started around food, that’s what we talk about a lot. She’s from Alabama and I’m so happy she has the time off work at the hair salon to come visit. I’m in desperate need for my best friend right now.
“This house is gorgeous,” she says as we walk up the steps, her raspy voice echoing in the hallway.
Half the house is done and the renovated section only has two bedrooms. I’m using the sunroom at the back of the house to sleep in.
“Isn’t it? This is the section that was just updated,” I tell her.
The guys did an amazing job and all that’s left to be done is painting the walls.
“So, this was your dad’s aunt’s place, right? They gonna sell it or what?”
“Yeah, I think so. I mean, we’re supposed to go back to Mississippi at the end of the summer so Sweetie can start kindergarten.”
Free Bird Page 6
