“Job description?” Clara offered.
Bernie snapped her fingers. “That’s it. What was the actual thing that you did?”
“I sat in a cubicle all day and input data, or information, into a computer,” she answered. “Kent had, and still has, a small office where he talks to prospective clients about oil well products that the company sells. When the pandemic hit, I worked from home for a while. Those were some miserable days for sure, having to spend twenty-four seven with Kent in the same room. Then when everyone went back to the office, the company had taken a hit and had to downsize. I got a pink slip and went to work at the bar.”
“Where were you happiest?” Bernie asked.
Clara took a moment to try to figure out why hergreat-aunt was asking so many questions. Was she merely making conversation, or did she have an agenda? “I hated that cubicle so much that some mornings I actually had chest pains on the way to work, and then being homebound with Kent was even worse.”
“And when you had to leave the house to go to the bar where you worked?” Bernie asked.
“Kent got home about fifteen minutes before I left,” Clara answered.
“What does that have to do with…” Bernie started.
Clara interrupted before she could finish. “I realized this very moment that I looked forward to leaving the apartment every evening to escape being around him. By the time I got home after three most mornings, he was asleep. I usually sacked out on the sofa to keep from waking him.”
“Okay, then, but what has that got to do with how you felt when you were at the bar?” Bernie asked.
“I was very happy at the bar and around lots of people. I actually got claustrophobic in that cubicle. Then when we worked from home, I prayed that we could go back to the office so I could at least have a little distance from him,” Clara admitted. “I wasn’t sure if it was because I wasn’t working near Kent where he could watch my every movement and criticize me if I even spoke to a male coworker, or that I wasn’t shoved into a cubicle, or if it was that he stayed on me constantly to produce more work when we were working from home.”
Bernie finished off her food and took her plate to the sink. “That means you are a people person, and the bar was a perfect fit for you. Too bad the place in Amarillo went out of business, but I’m glad that door closed so that the one to my place could open for you.”
“Thank you, Aunt Bernie,” Clara said. “That means a lot to me. And thanks for making me realize what makes me happy.”
“Once you figure that out, it don’t matter if you dig ditches or are the president of the USA. You are a success, because your job makes you happy,” Bernie told her. “Finish up your breakfast and get dressed. We’re burnin’ daylight,” she said, chuckling.
“Granny says that when she wants us to hustle,” Clara said.
“It comes from an old John Wayne movie calledThe Cowboys.” Bernie smiled. “Watching that was one of the few good memories I have of me and Hershal. We have to cherish those times.”
“Amen to that, because there aren’t many of them,” Clara agreed.
***
Not even a wispy white cloud had taken up residence in the clear blue sky when Bernie and Clara started out for Duncan. When they first drove away from the parking lot, Pepper had been all excited and looking out the side window, but by the time they reached the end oftown, he had curled up in Clara’s lap with a paw over his nose. Bernie had wanted to know if Clara was in the bartending business as a stopover to something better, or if she was truly happiest when she was in the middle of people. She really hadn’t wanted to hear any more about Mr. S.O.B. Kent that morning when she asked her great-niece about what made her happy.
But it does seem that every bit of information I get from the conversations with Clara makes me understand her better, even if it involves that sorry sucker,Bernie thought as she drove west toward Duncan.
“You sure are quiet,” Clara finally said when they reached the outskirts of town.
“I was wondering if somewhere in our past, maybe more than a hundred years ago, if there was an ancestor who didn’t care what other people thought of their choices in life, and if maybe you and I got some of their genes,” Bernie admitted. “And then my mind jumped to that sorry sucker you lived with. I would like to squeeze that fool’s neck until his eyes popped out of his head and rolled around on the floor like marbles.”
“I like that visual.” Clara giggled. “If there were genes that were that independent, I’m afraid that they got watered down a lot when it got to me.”
“Not from what I’ve seen,” Bernie disagreed.
Clara shifted positions and Pepper growled at her. “Hush and go back to sleep.”
The dog actually sighed and closed his eyes.
“If anyone got a healthy dose of sassy DNA from our ancestors, that would be you,” Clara said. “I’ve got this soft spot in my heart that wants to please people. I always wanted to be like Myra—all rainbows and unicorns. I tried really hard to follow her example, but no matter how hard I worked at it, I couldn’t pull it off.”
“You’ll get over that attitude.” Bernie remembered all those years when she and her twin were growing up, and how badly she wanted to make her mother smile like Vernie Sue did. “One day you will wake up and figure out that you have to be true to yourself first and foremost. It’s a tough job in the beginning, but it gets easier with age.”
“I hope so,” Clara whispered.
“Turn left at the next stop sign,” the GPS lady’s voice said.
