reminded.
76
Mar y Monroe
“Well, if you goin’ to do what my other waitresses do, you better get paid for it.” Muh’Dear gave me a critical look. “Why you wastin’ your life anyway? I ain’t never seen you look this miserable.” Muh’Dear paused and patted her hair which she had braided and pinned on top of her head. With the exception of a few annoying strands of gray hair and a few wrinkles on her forehead, nature had been good to Muh’Dear. She had gained a couple of dress sizes, but other than that, she was still a striking woman.
“I’ve never been this miserable,” I replied, smacking on some French fries that a customer had left on his plate.
Balancing a tray, Muh’Dear pulled me into a corner in the steamy kitchen and felt my forehead. “What’s the matter, baby?”
“Nothing,” I mumbled. “Uh, the couple at table five said the food here is better than anywhere else they’ve eaten.”
Compliments had a way of diverting Muh’Dear’s attention. “Well, my job is to keep everybody happy. Now how about a smile from you?
Your happiness means more to me than anybody else’s.”
I wore a fake smile the rest of that day. Even when the other waitresses glared at me for prancing around the dining room, keeping them from making tips and “socializing” with some of the good-looking men who ate at the restaurant on a regular basis. These hard-up men, hungry for something other than the fried chicken and waffles the restaurant was famous for, even flirted with me. They made suggestive remarks like, “Miss Buttercup, can I get a cup of your butter ?” I ignored them all. Romance was the last thing on my mind. I couldn’t even get a toehold on life, let alone a new lover. And the way my life was going, I was beginning to think that I’d never feel another man’s arms around me anyway.
I didn’t like using my status as the boss’s daughter to help pacify myself. When I got tired of receiving so many dirty looks from the real waitresses and leers from the male customers that day, I left the restaurant and drifted down the street to Pee Wee’s barbershop. Why I decided to do that, I didn’t know. Pee Wee had a real life and I had been reduced to the status of a peripheral acquaintance.
Even though the inside of the house Pee Wee shared with his ailing daddy looked like a train wreck, he kept his barbershop nice and neat. On one wall was a poster of John Lennon, left over from Pee Wee’s Beatlemania days. There was a huge green plant in every corner. Pee Wee kept himself looking nice and neat, too. He was a casual GOD STILL DON’T LIKE UGLY
77
dresser and being a barber, it behooved him to keep his hair looking nice. He kept it short with a few finger waves on the sides. He had recently grown a sexy goatee that he trimmed and washed every day.
Every time I looked at Pee Wee, I thought about how lucky some woman was going to be someday when he married her. Oddly enough, marrying somebody was one thing Pee Wee never discussed, at least around me. And I never brought it up. A lot of people assumed it was because of his daddy. Old Caleb rarely left the house except to go to church. He was a fussy old man, too. I couldn’t see any woman in her right mind putting up with that. And, I couldn’t see Pee Wee leaving his daddy to go live with some woman.
I liked Pee Wee’s daddy, but for my own selfish reasons, I was glad he was old and ailing. I figured that as long as he was around, I’d still have Pee Wee to myself, one way or another.
One of the most disturbing thoughts I had these days was knowing that sooner or later, Pee Wee would have no reason to stay single.
Even I knew that there were women in Richland sitting around like spiders, waiting to drag a man like Pee Wee in front of a preacher. I just hoped that it woudn’t be one of the gold-digging hussies I knew.
Before I reached the barbershop, one of those very wenches pranced out with a grin on her face that annoyed me so
76
Mar y Monroe
“Well, if you goin’ to do what my other waitresses do, you better get paid for it.” Muh’Dear gave me a critical look. “Why you wastin’ your life anyway? I ain’t never seen you look this miserable.” Muh’Dear paused and patted her hair which she had braided and pinned on top of her head. With the exception of a few annoying strands of gray hair and a few wrinkles on her forehead, nature had been good to Muh’Dear. She had gained a couple of dress sizes, but other than that, she was still a striking woman.
“I’ve never been this miserable,” I replied, smacking on some French fries that a customer had left on his plate.
Balancing a tray, Muh’Dear pulled me into a corner in the steamy kitchen and felt my forehead. “What’s the matter, baby?”
“Nothing,” I mumbled. “Uh, the couple at table five said the food here is better than anywhere else they’ve eaten.”
Compliments had a way of diverting Muh’Dear’s attention. “Well, my job is to keep everybody happy. Now how about a smile from you?
Your happiness means more to me than anybody else’s.”
I wore a fake smile the rest of that day. Even when the other waitresses glared at me for prancing around the dining room, keeping them from making tips and “socializing” with some of the good-looking men who ate at the restaurant on a regular basis. These hard-up men, hungry for something other than the fried chicken and waffles the restaurant was famous for, even flirted with me. They made suggestive remarks like, “Miss Buttercup, can I get a cup of your butter ?” I ignored them all. Romance was the last thing on my mind. I couldn’t even get a toehold on life, let alone a new lover. And the way my life was going, I was beginning to think that I’d never feel another man’s arms around me anyway.
I didn’t like using my status as the boss’s daughter to help pacify myself. When I got tired of receiving so many dirty looks from the real waitresses and leers from the male customers that day, I left the restaurant and drifted down the street to Pee Wee’s barbershop. Why I decided to do that, I didn’t know. Pee Wee had a real life and I had been reduced to the status of a peripheral acquaintance.
Even though the inside of the house Pee Wee shared with his ailing daddy looked like a train wreck, he kept his barbershop nice and neat. On one wall was a poster of John Lennon, left over from Pee Wee’s Beatlemania days. There was a huge green plant in every corner. Pee Wee kept himself looking nice and neat, too. He was a casual GOD STILL DON’T LIKE UGLY
77
dresser and being a barber, it behooved him to keep his hair looking nice. He kept it short with a few finger waves on the sides. He had recently grown a sexy goatee that he trimmed and washed every day.
Every time I looked at Pee Wee, I thought about how lucky some woman was going to be someday when he married her. Oddly enough, marrying somebody was one thing Pee Wee never discussed, at least around me. And I never brought it up. A lot of people assumed it was because of his daddy. Old Caleb rarely left the house except to go to church. He was a fussy old man, too. I couldn’t see any woman in her right mind putting up with that. And, I couldn’t see Pee Wee leaving his daddy to go live with some woman.
I liked Pee Wee’s daddy, but for my own selfish reasons, I was glad he was old and ailing. I figured that as long as he was around, I’d still have Pee Wee to myself, one way or another.
One of the most disturbing thoughts I had these days was knowing that sooner or later, Pee Wee would have no reason to stay single.
Even I knew that there were women in Richland sitting around like spiders, waiting to drag a man like Pee Wee in front of a preacher. I just hoped that it woudn’t be one of the gold-digging hussies I knew.
Before I reached the barbershop, one of those very wenches pranced out with a grin on her face that annoyed me so
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