It's unfortunate that the neighborhood around the diner has gone to pits, but he still stays in business.
I haven't seen Bartie since before the hospital visit, so I'm a bit disappointed that he's here tonight. It also makes me anxious. He's not normally here when I come in, so I instantly start to think he's going to fire me.
"Vivienne?"
"Yes, sir?"
"How are you feeling?"
I suppress the shock I feel at his question. “Great, thanks. How are you?" I begin walking toward him, but stop about five feet away. Though he’s never really done anything to make me mistrust him, there’s this invisible danger zone around him that sets off my warning bells. Maybe it’s my inexplicable desire to please him. Or maybe it’s the fact that he's quite the grease monkey when it comes to his clothes and hygiene.
"I'm good. You're looking well. You've gained some weight?"
"I think so. I don't own a scale, so I can't say for sure."
He laughs his awful, too-many-cigarettes laugh. "Well, I can see it. Can you come here, please?"
I'm momentarily dumbstruck, and then I manage to make myself move another couple feet toward him.
"What's up, Bart?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
He lowers his voice. "I just wanted to let you know that Laura and I talked yesterday. You know, about last week." Oh no. "I just wanted you to know that you've done a great job working here. As long as you don't make a habit out of it and we can cover your shift, I will never fire you because of being sick."
Release breath. "I don't plan to make it a habit. More than anything, I really like and need this job."
"I know, and I like having you here." He smiles. His front tooth is severely crooked and he is missing two teeth on the bottom.
"I will remember that. Thank you, Bart."
"Good deal. Now, there is a woman in booth fourteen who asked for you by name. Go change your shoes and help her out, okay?"
I nod and head off, wondering who could’ve asked for me. The only women I know that would be in this restaurant claiming to know me are Amanda and Dr. Alston. I turn to look, but I can’t see over the top of the high-backed booth.
I change my shoes quickly, shed my hoodie and tie up my apron. The top of the apron quickly slips below my belly. Initially I think it makes me look huge, but when I look at myself in the mirror, it's not all that noticeable. Which is good, because despite Bartie's claim, I have no doubt that he would be quick to harass me about it. I've heard stories - even from his own son - about some of the things he's done because someone made him mad. I know I can’t hide my pregnancy from him forever.
I can't stop myself from looking at table twelve - Mikah's table - on my way over to the booth next to it. My heart aches at the sight of that empty table, and I suddenly have this need to see him. To thank him and—
My heart stops and my steps falter. Sitting in the booth I'm heading toward is a black-haired girl I had hoped never to see again - Rebecca!
Fear grips my throat as I consider the possibility that it really was Riley outside after all.
Rebecca is Riley’s wannabe girlfriend. She thinks he's the greatest thing since sliced bread, and I have no doubt Riley cheated on me with her. He was always saying I was lousy in bed and even made a point a few times of telling me that he'd slept with other women. Rebecca, I'm certain, was one of them.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I snap as I approach the table.
"Well, hello to you, too, Vivienne."
"Answer my question," I say through gritted teeth.
"Is that any way to treat a customer?"
"No, but you are no customer."
She turns her head to look at me. I gasp. Her right eye is purple and swollen shut.
"No, I'm not. I came to warn you."
"Warn me. How the hell did you know I was here in the first place?"
"Word gets around."
"That's funny, because there isn’t anybody that knows I'm here."
"Guess again."
This is just damn fantastic. I
I haven't seen Bartie since before the hospital visit, so I'm a bit disappointed that he's here tonight. It also makes me anxious. He's not normally here when I come in, so I instantly start to think he's going to fire me.
"Vivienne?"
"Yes, sir?"
"How are you feeling?"
I suppress the shock I feel at his question. “Great, thanks. How are you?" I begin walking toward him, but stop about five feet away. Though he’s never really done anything to make me mistrust him, there’s this invisible danger zone around him that sets off my warning bells. Maybe it’s my inexplicable desire to please him. Or maybe it’s the fact that he's quite the grease monkey when it comes to his clothes and hygiene.
"I'm good. You're looking well. You've gained some weight?"
"I think so. I don't own a scale, so I can't say for sure."
He laughs his awful, too-many-cigarettes laugh. "Well, I can see it. Can you come here, please?"
I'm momentarily dumbstruck, and then I manage to make myself move another couple feet toward him.
"What's up, Bart?" I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
He lowers his voice. "I just wanted to let you know that Laura and I talked yesterday. You know, about last week." Oh no. "I just wanted you to know that you've done a great job working here. As long as you don't make a habit out of it and we can cover your shift, I will never fire you because of being sick."
Release breath. "I don't plan to make it a habit. More than anything, I really like and need this job."
"I know, and I like having you here." He smiles. His front tooth is severely crooked and he is missing two teeth on the bottom.
"I will remember that. Thank you, Bart."
"Good deal. Now, there is a woman in booth fourteen who asked for you by name. Go change your shoes and help her out, okay?"
I nod and head off, wondering who could’ve asked for me. The only women I know that would be in this restaurant claiming to know me are Amanda and Dr. Alston. I turn to look, but I can’t see over the top of the high-backed booth.
I change my shoes quickly, shed my hoodie and tie up my apron. The top of the apron quickly slips below my belly. Initially I think it makes me look huge, but when I look at myself in the mirror, it's not all that noticeable. Which is good, because despite Bartie's claim, I have no doubt that he would be quick to harass me about it. I've heard stories - even from his own son - about some of the things he's done because someone made him mad. I know I can’t hide my pregnancy from him forever.
I can't stop myself from looking at table twelve - Mikah's table - on my way over to the booth next to it. My heart aches at the sight of that empty table, and I suddenly have this need to see him. To thank him and—
My heart stops and my steps falter. Sitting in the booth I'm heading toward is a black-haired girl I had hoped never to see again - Rebecca!
Fear grips my throat as I consider the possibility that it really was Riley outside after all.
Rebecca is Riley’s wannabe girlfriend. She thinks he's the greatest thing since sliced bread, and I have no doubt Riley cheated on me with her. He was always saying I was lousy in bed and even made a point a few times of telling me that he'd slept with other women. Rebecca, I'm certain, was one of them.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I snap as I approach the table.
"Well, hello to you, too, Vivienne."
"Answer my question," I say through gritted teeth.
"Is that any way to treat a customer?"
"No, but you are no customer."
She turns her head to look at me. I gasp. Her right eye is purple and swollen shut.
"No, I'm not. I came to warn you."
"Warn me. How the hell did you know I was here in the first place?"
"Word gets around."
"That's funny, because there isn’t anybody that knows I'm here."
"Guess again."
This is just damn fantastic. I
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