Some that will have to go unanswered because how can I bring them up with my mother? She’s doing better now. Happy and healthy.
I can’t be the one to take that from her.
Chapter
35
For the firsttime since we started book club three years ago, I had to ask Shawn for a rain check.
Beefies decided to schedule me for a shift tonight, which I get because it’s a Friday and that’s prime time for a restaurant. And theoretically, I should be ecstatic with the extra hours and tips.
But I just want to hang out with my brother and talk about the cozy fantasy we read.
I don’t have much longer with him trusting me to be a part of his life.
With that thought, I didn’t try to find anyone to switch with, and I sent Shawn a message asking to reschedule. He was cool about it because that’s how he is.
I thought getting to wear jeans and a T-shirt to work would be fantastic. After years of wearing that teal uniform for the diner, I figured this would be some kind of freedom. And the jeans are great. I do have to admit that. But the T-shirt…That’s another matter.
I don’t get to wear just any T-shirt, which, okay, I understand. But the one I was given after my orientation is at least one size too small, and the neckline dips like a crevasse. I have to squat whenever serving someone instead of leaning if I don’t want to give everyone a boob show.
But as I view my fellow waitstaff, I wonder if that might be the intention. Not that the other people I’m working with are flaunting their chests. It just seems to be what the uniform is. Not just jeans and a T-shirt.
Jeans, T-shirt, and tits.
And from the way the patrons’ eyes have dropped, always a few inches lower than my collarbone rather than meeting my eyes when they give me their order, I’m coming to realize that the tits are an expected part of the dining process.
It’s not long before I’m missing the buttons that snugly tuck the girls in when I’m at the diner.
You need the money.
You need the tips.
These shifts are what are going to help you pay Shawn back sooner. You can deal with some ogling if it means your brother shuns you for less time.
With that reminder playing on a constant loop in my head, I smile and take orders and laugh at jokes that aren’t funny and ignore how the eyes trace my neckline.
That is, until I walk up to a table with a familiar face.
“H-how can I help you this evening?” I stutter over the first word when I realize that of the three men sitting at the table, at least two of them are members of the flight club.
And one of them is Vernon.
Fuck my life.
I recognize him right away, but I see no reflected recognition in his eyes. Probably because he hasn’t looked at my face yet.
“Well, I sure do love my nights at Beefies. Best view in town.” He chuckles, and one of his tablemates joins in. The one whose name I can’t remember from the flight club doesn’t laugh along with the crude jest, but he also doesn’t say anything to stop the man. He just gives me an uncomfortable smile before focusing fully on his menu.
I don’t know what to do. When I’m at the diner, I feel safe and surrounded by the people I love while dressed in an outfit that I now realize is a kind of armor. If I was there, I would greet Vernon by name. I would glance over to see if Darla is nearby, with murder in her eyes after hearing his comment. I’d probably have to make a quick excuse to go stop her from strolling over here and dumping a glass of water on the guy’s lap.
A quick scan of the restaurant reveals no allies. Not because anyone who works here is against me. But they don’t really notice me, either. Everyone here is just working. Just punching a clock. Just earning money like I am. There is no sense of family here.
And in this moment, I realize that despite all the frustrations and annoyances that I’ve experienced at the diner, that place is still home.
I’m not home right now.
And I don’t know what to do other than what I’m getting paid for.
