I was still against Joe’s chest, but his body was rigid. “That— thatSchmok.”
“And I don’t believe his name was truly de Valois,” I said, sitting up and using my handkerchief. “That’s a noble title. More, aroyaltitle. I don’t believe he’s from the Sorbonne, either. What does a professor from the Sorbonne look like? Like Dr. Müller. Like Professor Jacobson. Gray and rather stooped, with glasses, yes. Butnotlike a … a Frenchman from a Hollywood picture!”
Joe was frowning. “I think I should go pay him a visit.”
“No!” I grasped his sleeve. “No, Joe. No. I couldn’t bear it if you did. He was unpleasant, yes, but this is my shame, for I did lie. This is why I—” I stopped, bit my lip.
“What?” Joe asked.
“Why I cried,” I said reluctantly. “Why I’ve been so weak. It’s one thing to say, I will not bow to injustice, I will not stop fighting, and another entirely to be caught in a cowardly lie. This is, what do you say? My chickens coming back to the nest?”
“Your chickens coming home to roost,” Joe said, but he was still frowning. “I was the one who told you to do it.”
“But I was the one whodidit,” I said. “In full knowledge that it was wrong. This is my lesson, and I’ve now learned it. It is most uncomfortable to lie for gain and be caught. And now …” I got to my feet. “We will both change our clothes, for I’ve wrinkled the lovely dress you gave me, and I’ll make something very easy for supper.”
“Tuna sandwiches,” Joe said. “I love tuna sandwiches, and you never make them. You think it’s too simple a dinner for me to like. On your bread, with a pickle and some mustard? You bet. Come on, Mrs. Stark. Let’s get changed and make them.”
“Only if I put cheese on top,” I said, “and put them underthe broiler.” I stood up, though. Why was Joe always able to make my heart lighter? “And tomorrow, I’ll find a new job. Andnotlie.”
20
ADVENTURES IN EMPLOYMENT
The search wasn’t easy this time either, but I was hired at last as a carhop at a strange restaurant called a “Drive-In,” where the customers, yes, drove into the lot and parked outside the building, and the waiters, most of them men, took trays of food out to them to eat in their cars. I couldn’t understand why one would wish to eat in a car, with nowhere to put one’s food and the hamburgers dripping everywhere, instead of comfortably at a table with proper linens, but it seemed Americans loved their cars so much, they never wanted to get out of them.
The owner, Mr. Sullivan, was reluctant to hire me, but that wasn’t anything new. His reason, however, was.
“You’re too pretty,” he told me. A red-faced man, he was rather stout, and brusque in his manner. “Some of those boys can get fresh.”
“But a pretty girl,” I said, “is surely better? Men enjoy having a pretty girl serve them, I think.”
“That’s the point, Toots,” Mr. Sullivan said. “They enjoy it too much.”
“I can look after myself very well,” I said. “And your signhas been there now for three days, which means you haven’t found anybody to work yet. Perhaps I could try it for a month, and we could see.”
“We’ll try it for aweek,”Mr. Sullivan said. “Andthenwe’ll see. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He was correct, for I was pinched on the bottom several times during the weeks I worked there. I found this not only objectionable, but also terribly bruising, and Joe was most upset by it. I continued on, though, for I needed a job, and I’d done harder things. Until the night when I served a very loud group of three college men, all of them looking much younger than Joe, possibly rather drunk, and definitely worse mannered. I took their orders easily enough, though, and when the driver said, “How about a date later, sweetheart?” I answered coolly, “My husband wouldn’t like that. He was in the Army, you see, and learned to fight perhaps too well. He’s a student at Stanford also. Perhaps you know him? Staff Sergeant Joe Stark.” This, I’d found, almost always worked.
Unfortunately, there was that drinking. That, I’m sure, is the reason for what happened next. I brought out their food—hamburgers and milkshakes and French fries, which was what almost everyone ordered—and as I was fastening the tray to the car window, the driver grabbed my breast and squeezed.
I didn’t drop the tray. I was rather proud of myself there. What Ididdo was snatch up a tall glass containing a chocolate milkshake and throw the contents in his face.
He yelped loudly, the man beside him yelled, “Hey!” and the man behind himsaid, “What’s happening?” The milkshake, though, slid down the driver’s face in a most satisfying manner, though some of the whipped cream stuck to his nose. As I watched, the maraschino cherry dropped onto his trousers with aplop.
I said, “That will be a dollar seventy-nine,” with my voice shaking only a little.
The driver said, groping for a handkerchief, “You threw a milkshake in my face!” He was spluttering a bit also. The chocolate had possibly got up his nose.
“Yes,” I said, “I did. You deserved it. A dollar seventy-nine.”
“I’m not going to—” he said.
I heard someone behind me and turned. It was Johnny, another carhop. He too was a Stanford student, but “a poor one,” he’d told me with a shy smile. “On scholarship. That’s why I’m working here.” Now, he said, “Is there a problem?”
“You bet there’s a problem,” the driver said. He hadn’t managed to wipe his face well at all. I suppose it was difficult to see through the milkshake. “She?—”
“A dollar seventy-nine,” I said again, like a parrot. I’d begun to shake now.
