“All done?” asks Debbie when she sees me set down my pen.
“Kind of,” I hedge. “I actually… don’t have an address yet. That’s why I’m hoping to get a job.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Oh, honey. What kind of a place are you planning to get with a waitress salary?”
“Right.” I chew my lower lip, realizing just how unaware I am of how the world works. Here I was hoping to save up enough to go to Ireland, when I won’t even have enough money to live.
“But I guess you’re here with your husband,” she adds, looking at me quizzically. “He’s gonna be keeping the kid while you work?”
“Uhm…”Shit.
“Never mind,” I say hastily, pushing the form back to her. “I’ll figure something else out. How much do I owe you?”
I take out my two twenties, and her gaze falls down to them, before settling once more on me.
Her book lies forgotten beside her as she leans over the counter. “Don’t tell me that’s all you have in the world.”
A sense of wounded pride rising up in my throat, I sit up straight, grabbing Aurora. She squeaks out her protest as the pancake she’s currently nibbling on falls from her hands. “Please just tell me what I owe you,” I answer stiffly.
She ignores my question.
“You running from someone?” she asks, her eyes still studying me in a way that makes me feel uncomfortable.
“No,” I answer, more harshly than I intend in my effort to push away the fear that’s crawling up my throat.
“Your husband?” She frowns. “You running from your husband?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Squeezing Aurora to my chest, I stand up. “Thank you for the milk and the pancakes. Can I have the check?”
“Listen, hon,” she drawls. “I was once in an abusive relationship. I know what that’s like. Sit your butt back down. We women got to help each other, don’t we?”
“Oh.” I let myself exhale slowly as my suspicions leave me. “Right. Yeah, he was abusive.”
It makes sense that she assumes I’m leaving some run-of-the-mill abusive asshole. That’s a lot more likely than somehow being aware of the mobster who’s currently hunting me down so that he can feed me to his dogs, with the help of a guy who probably wants me dead for his own reasons.
If she’s showing me sympathy, I should probably lean into the abusive asshole story.
“It was a very bad relationship,” I say, nodding. “I left with nothing, and I’m not sure what to do now.”
“Poor girl,” says Debbie, sniffing hard like she’s affected by my story. And I guess she is, if she’s been through that too.
“I’m really struggling,” I agree, doing my best to squeeze out a tear.
Selfish. Manipulative.Logan’s words rip through my brain.I really am both of those things, playing on this woman’s feelings so she’ll help me.
But what else am I supposed to do? How else can I look out for Aurora?
“Tell you what,” says Debbie. “This is my restaurant, and I need help. The place looks kind of dead now, but there’s often a crowd later in the day. It’s the only place to eat in town. I’ll let you work here, and we can set up a little something in the back so your daughter can play. And you two can sleep on my couch. I don’t mind, I live alone.”
“Oh,” I gasp, “thank you!”
The wall I usually shield myself behind has very suddenly crumpled to the ground, and I’m two steps away from hugging her.
Then I remember Ireland.
“And, uhm… what’s the pay?”
“Well, 2.17 an hour, plus tips,” she says, once more studying me sharply. “But of course, you’ll need to contribute for the apartment, and the daycare situation. And the food. I’ll feed you.”
