HH 2 Belva. Adele Kurtz House on the Hill, My Mothers Archive pt 1

The narrator is going through their mother's archive and finds old papers and photos. They remember their mother's gift for storytelling and recall some shady history. They then describe a conversation between a woman and a waitress at a restaurant. The woman talks about her past and makes inappropriate comments to the waitress. She also advises the waitress on how to get better tips. The narrator observes the interaction. Let's go to my mother's archive. Chapter Two I slept in the room beside my mother's patient room. It was neatly furnished with fresh linens on a queen-size bed, a dresser and nightstand. Old houses such as these had tiny closets, and this one was stashed to the max with old papers and photos. Before she took ill, my mother had been resuming her connections to her family roots, tracing steps in her childhood, revisiting places. A casual observer could not guess the stories behind the pictures she had stashed here. There was some shady history I felt ready to recall, stories of a runaway who had been hurt, pulled herself up by the bootstraps, and developed a chip on her shoulder. I thought about these two favorite expressions as I checked on the woman in the room next door. There was a door between us, separating our beds by no more than thirty feet. Since she was comfortably asleep, I propped the door so I could hear any stirrings as I sorted through her stash. My mother had a gift for storytelling, and I had encouraged her as a child to tell me as much as she could every night. She would make up dialogue as she went along, vary it slightly with each retelling, but the stories? They were all essentially the same, sweet stories with a plucky twist. The pictures helped to stir up a mass of memories as I plopped on her bed. I listened to their voices and imagined, I was tired from my travels, and it felt luxurious just to relax. My, oh my, Lord Belva, could it be you, a late thirty-something woman exclaimed from behind a tall, three-paneled, dingy cardboard menu. Her red lipstick mouth was grinning with tight-pursed corners as she whipped the menu to the side to stare at the waitress in front of her. Her eyes gazed excitedly up and down, and she nodded with spray-glued peroxide orange curls as she took in all the details of the teenager. The waitress was dressed in gray standard issue, an off-white apron with two deep bulging pockets with a pen sticking out of one of them, beige nylon hosiery with a seam up the back, and old, low-heel, chunky pumps. She wore a hair knot, cupping her dark tresses close to her long neck and shoulders, and a name tag that clearly said, Jane. All grown up and working already, shouldn't you be in school? The woman took a long drag off her cigarette and blew smoke in the direction of the waitress, not waiting for an answer. Now, my lord, now, would you take a look at you? The girl opened her mouth, but said nothing, frozen in her tracks, with a notepad in front of her chest, posed to take an order. Her dark eyes widened in surprise and tensed, creating a deep furrow between her two brows. She looked down a moment, shook her head, looked up, and stammered. What is it that I can get for you? The woman observed the girl's darker complexion and sculpted cheekbones. Got your daddy's Indian blood, I see, she continued, and so skinny, just like a bean pole. Won't last long, you know. I was your age when I married, will you? Three kids, and each one made a lasting impression. She patted the pillow of her tummy, hiding under her floral print dress, and grinned. The slightly older, slimmer man was quietly sitting beside her on the wooden bench, directing his attention to securing a safe place for his narrow-brimmed felt hat. He quickly snapped it up from the burgundy cushion between them, where it might get squashed, to the table in front of him. The woman squeezed over a couple inches closer to the gent and grabbed his hand the instant he let go of the hat, as if to clarify the meaning of her commentary, and then dropped it. Oh, not him, of course, I mean, not his kids, William's. She tried to explain further, and he thought, William thought, I just wasn't popping them out fast enough, so I had to go. Jane's quizzical expression deflated the woman momentarily. You married yet? The girl shook her head no. That's when the fun stops, you know. She laughed. Looking once again at the man studying his lamplighter menu, she leaned in and tapped him on his thigh, looking for agreement. He smirked quietly and picked up his menu as if to say he did not wish to get involved in this discussion. I don't think we ever even went on a date, no, not ever, not even to a picture show that I can recall. Maybe one. William just saw me, liked what he saw, made the arrangements, and that was that. Sixteen years old, and never had a chance to do any living, you know, just didn't know any better. Down on the farm, you get yourself married as soon as you can, well, that's why I asked. Jane shrugged her shoulders and waited for the order, unsmiling, but totally captivated. And then with our sisters making babies, as though that was all the fun I was ever supposed to have, you know what I mean, know what I mean? And it wasn't any fun, I'll tell you, you know, not like it is for the guys, you know, right? She jabbed the man again with her elbow, who responded by rolling his eyes upward. She turned back to the waitress to exclaim loudly, of course you don't know yet, at least I shall hope not. What kind of mother would you have if you knew anything about such stuff at your tender age? Now you can't blame me now, do you? Oh, my, my, oh, my, Belle, a man in a business suit seated at a table, a man in a business suit seated at a table across from them, turned on his bench, raised his large body, and stared at the waitress sternly. The girl observed this, ignored it for the time being, and asked for the couple's order again. Oh, we'll make it easy for you, she said quickly, and both get the Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes and peas. She leaned her head sideways to glare back at the impatient intruder. Costs a bit more, but it sounds classier than a hamburger. When Jane returned with their order, the older woman picked up on the conversation again. Now this kind of reminds me of the only other kind of fun we were supposed to be having down on the farm, and that was entertaining folks, kind of like what we're doing now, except everyone's in the kitchen, not in a nice restaurant like this. You're supposed to, like, slave over the stove all day and then serve us and catch up on old times. How long has it been? Over ten years, Jane responded as she placed two plates in front of them. Oh, my, this looks so good. Gotta save room for dessert. She elbowed her partner again and gave him a wink. Oh, my, how time flies when you're having fun. So this is fun, isn't it, Belba? It's kind of like the fun your family's used to, isn't it? Lots of folks getting together, you're serving us, and it's even better, because someone else is actually making the food. Now, we don't mind that, and, well, in fact, we'll let you treat us if you want, so it really feels like family. Jane barely caught the remark and did not have time to disagree as she was already turning her back to serve another customer from her tray. When she returned, the woman leaned in to talk to her, lowering her voice in a confidential manner. Now, that's exactly why we came in here tonight, because we was feeling kind of bluesy, because we're out of money on a Friday night. Imagine, no money in our pockets to go out and enjoy ourselves, and we remembered that we heard that you worked here. Of all the miracles in life, oh, you just couldn't believe how much I consider this to be that, a miracle. You don't know how much I've really missed you. I miss seeing you grow up. I miss it. The woman stubbed out her cigarette to free her fingers as she directed her grasp to the man seated beside her. Jane remained silent, keeping her thoughts to herself as she took in the woman's confession. This here is my boyfriend, Ray, and by the way, he's a keeper, not like most of the guys you're going to meet who's just going to want to put their paws all over you and not even buy you a nice dinner. This one's a real gentleman. She squeezed the shoulder of the man and rubbed his checkered sleeve possessively. He looked a bit older, a bit slimmer, and a lot quieter than the woman beside him, and smiled meekly. We believe in going out, not like your family ever did, having fun every once in a while. Like this here's Friday, and you got tits in your pocket, I'll bet. Only a bunch of nickels from coffee customers, and a few quarters mostly from the lunch crowd, Jane answered. Oh, I can't even believe it. You're in the big city now, girl. New Albany. You're not down on the farm. Folks tip pretty good, especially on a Friday night, and you've been working all week. Now show me, she demanded, tapping her finger on the table. Jane obliged, by pulling the change out of her apron, leaving a pile of quarters, nickels and dimes on the table. Just then, the businessman behind her called out, Dearie, and Jane turned to take his request. When she returned, the redhead was bobbing up and down, counting the change on the table. No, I just don't believe it. You haven't been nice enough to your customers, like that old man behind us. You don't talk enough, or smile. She leaned in and whispered, now if you let him touch you, lean over, and just let him have a good look, he'll double your tips. She winked, paused to let her advice settle, and then demanded, what's in your other pocket? Jane fingered her other bulging pocket with the pen in it, and the pad. These are just some checks I haven't put in the register yet. Pay, not tips. She pulled a handful of tabs out with a few bills, and some change, and laid it all on the table. Honey, let me show you, the woman advised, assuming a helpful tone. You need to offer to get us something to drink with this stew. She turned to the man and said, Ray, what you want? Mind you, they don't serve any beer. The quiet man said his first words, now the cup of coffee's okay for me. He looked up at Jane and gallantly quipped, Cupcake, fill her up, and he tipped his cup. Jane's eyes were still on the proof she had laid on the table. She nervously reached over to grab it, but the woman gestured her hand aside, pushing each coin to the side carefully. Because for me, dear, and don't make it just mostly us this time, you know what y'all trying to do. I know. You're trying to fill it up with too much us, just so you don't have to give up on like the real merchandise. She kept her eyes on the coins as she... She commanded, keeping her eyes on the coins, stop thinking about your customers, and you'll get bigger tips now. Run along. When Jane returned with the drink, she noticed that the coins were missing from the table. You can't do that. I need that money, she pleaded, trying to keep quiet so no one would be alerted to the problem she knew she had foolishly stepped into. Oh, come on now, calm down. We expect to be coming into some cash tomorrow. We could pay you back. You can't spend it now anyway, being underage on a Friday night. Now, you should just go home and go do your studying now. Jane shook her head and scowled, oh, for heaven's sake, Belva, it's been too long since me and Ray here have had a good night on the town. I used to have great work during war times, but they just cut us off just like that, and when the boys came home, I'm out, still looking. I was proud to do my share, and now we're what? We're supposed to just get back to making babies? Oh, you just don't want to remind me of the olden days, do you? Jane's mind was flooding with memories that she was doing her best to hold back. Right now, she needed to protect her interests here in the diner, her job, her money, and not call attention to the problem she knew she had helped to create. I gotta pay Mrs. Moots since I've been working. I don't help around the house as much, and I'm trying to finish school to get a diploma. What you need to do that for, dearie, with your good looks? You're going to snag a keeper like my Ray in no time. She squeezed Ray's arms. Tell you what, we'll just consider that this dinner's on you tonight, like a good old farm girl. You had the pleasure of our company, and you didn't even have to cook. Jane fidgeted nervously in their presence, and then tried to strengthen her position. She leaned into the table and tried to object quietly, without creating undue attention. But, but, um, now you don't want me giving you a lecture about how you was raised, or anything to be like a selfish girl. The woman interrupted, so we'll just consider that this money is a loan, and pay you back before it's missed. Tell you what, we can be back in here on Sunday. Mrs. Moots won't miss it. I don't work Sundays, Jane said. Sure you don't, she replied saccharine sweetly. You're a good old country girl, and you wouldn't miss church, I'm sure. Still go to church? Isn't that the other kind of fun times we're supposed to be having living down on the farm? Socializing, putting on airs, wearing our pretty dresses once a week, flirting with the minister, all looking holier than thou. And then, the whole rest of the week we just got dirty in just like so many ways, you know what I mean? She did not wait for an answer, but blurted with a loud, generous tone, God, talking with you about it makes me, like, really glad I got out of there. And now, we're on our way to having a good time because of you, because of you, sweetie. See, we can still have some kind of, you know, relationship. I'm certain you feel good about giving me and Ray this money in our time of need. Lending it, Jane said slowly, realizing she had been defeated. Since you're off on Sunday, we'll come in sometime during the week and we'll pay you back, get a cup of coffee or something, you know, like maybe when you're not so busy as on a Friday night. No, I can come over on Sunday to pick it up, Jane offered. Be glad to stop in and, like, see where you live, like maybe, her voice trailed off and picked up some distant hope. She shifted her weight and pleaded earnestly, but softly. It would be wonderful if we could, like, you know, maybe start over some way. The girl looked as if she was desperately seeking the right words to say, or I could help out, like around the house or something. The woman recoiled from Jane's earnest pleas. Her face clouded like thunderstorms on the horizon as her lipstick smile fractured into this twitching scowl. She looked at Jane with piercing eyes and leaned in as close as she could to the girl who was standing still, quietly, waiting for her response. She held red-orange painted fingertips between her face and the older man on the other side of the booth. And you chose love, she whispered menacingly, to sashay around and wiggle your skinny arse and pretty bitty titties, like all of them, my boyfriend, now, too, I bet. Jane recoiled. Her eyes looked like a doe, caught by surprise. The woman changed her tone abruptly again and raised her voice as if she were only joking and laughed. You gotta get your own now, girl, get out more, you don't need your nose in the books. You, that while you still got it, that's, you know, they don't teach you that down on the farm. We'll be back in, so you can pay the woman who's taking care of you now. Now that you've run away from your family and left them with all those babies to take care of. Oldest girls should not do that, you know. We heard all about it, didn't you learn that at church, about respecting your parents? But, never mind, you know, I'd have done it, too, you know, you know. She repeated meaningfully, leaning in again and adding a wink, glad I did, would like Belle, there's no doubt in that for sure, soon as I heard it, I thought, that's my girl. Her face brightened again, oh, oh, and that's okay, we'll save dessert for another time now, dear. The couple stood up quickly and walked toward the door, Jane watched and shook her head when she saw they really did not leave money to pay the check. She had hoped all along that this was all just a joke. Then Ray turned around suddenly and Belle's heart lifted expectantly, he almost ran into her while she was standing at the table. He smiled awkwardly, caught her eyes in his and put a nickel on the table with a crisp snap. Ray shrugged his shoulders, adjusted the felt hat on his head, smirked, looked into Jane's disappointed eyes once again, then he reached into his pocket and leaned toward her, taking her hand as if to shake it and pressed a few more coins into it. Watching him running after his girlfriend, Jane knew the coins in her hand would not be enough to cover their tab, and the confiscated tips, and the receipts for the evening. She picked up the check and tried to follow the couple already half out the door, hey, she called just loud enough to get them to turn around. The redhead stepped back inside, what, expecting a big hug or something since you haven't seen me in so many years? She said, pretending to be oblivious to the problems she had caused, and embarrassed the waitress instead, you're a professional now, you wouldn't like me slobbering all over you when you got customers waiting for you to take care of them, get back in there. She pushed Jane back toward the register, Jane tried to keep her composure dignified, realizing that she had lost this round, and clueless as to how she could gain the upper hand. The restaurant owner noticed that something was amiss. Jane was not at her station, and came toward the group, blocking the doorway to his establishment. Everything okay over here? Jane shrugged her shoulders, shook her head, and stuffed the check back in her apron as the couple walked away. Hey, hey, hey, what did they order? He asked. What is the problem, and where is your cash? He could see tears welling in her eyes as she looked in the direction of the distant couple. He seemed to guess that they were a no-pay, and offered to run after them. Jane shook her head and said emphatically, I promise, I promise, I will pay you back. I told you, Jane, you just can't be treating your friends here to free dinner, he said. Oh, she is not my friend, Mr. Zane. Oh, that don't make it any better, he interrupted, trying to sound understanding but firm. She's my mother.