3. Peachy

3

PEACHY

EVANGELINE

I don’t have to be at work for another hour, but I secure my apron before grabbing the book and shoving it inside. The less time I have to spend at home the better. Especially since my stepfather moved back in.

As I tread lightly through the living room, I don’t see Jimmy in the recliner with the TV on. Maybe he’s still asleep or better yet, maybe he never came home last night. But those daydreams are short-lived as I turn the corner into the kitchen and almost smack right into him.

“Whoa there, you in a hurry?” he asks, flashing me a smile as I back away from him. Jimmy’s tall and lanky, with thinning brown hair almost the same color as his eyes and deep lines on his face from working construction. Not that he’s done much of that lately.

“Some of us have to work,” I quip, and when I try to move around him, he blocks me by leaning his tattooed hand on the doorframe.

I regret not buttoning my uniform all the way when his eyes dip into my shirt. But it’s not so much his eyes I’m worried about when he takes hold of the string securing my apron in place. “Nice uniform.”

I pull away, yanking the string from his grasp. “I’m gonna be late.” I push past him and yank open the door.

“Rent is due on the first,” he calls from behind me.

I turn around in shock. “Excuse me?”

“You need to be good for something around here.” He taps his fingers on the doorframe before retreating into the living room.

I clench my fists, letting the door slam shut behind me. My mother’s sitting on the front porch smoking a cigarette. She looks tired, like she didn’t sleep, and when she hears me she looks up.

“What’s Jimmy talking about?”

She throws the butt to the ground and steps on it. Mimi hated cigarette butts on the front porch, but I keep my mouth shut and focus on the real issue.

“Everyone has to pay their way around here.”

I shake my head. “I helped you for years with this house. It should have been paid off by now.”

She looks up at me with at least some remorse in her eyes.

“We had to take out a second mortgage when Jimmy hurt himself on the job and lost the contract for the new mini-mart,” she explains.

“Yeah, well he doesn’t seem to be walking with a limp now,” I challenge.

“We’re doing the best we can,” she demands. “You think I want to lose the house?”

How stupid I was to believe anything she says.

“You know I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Would have been nice if you’d taken a divorce settlement from that billionaire ex-husband of yours,” she complains, sticking the knife into my heart just a little bit further. “It’s not like he’d have missed it.”

“I told you I didn’t want anything from him.”

“Jesus, Evangeline. You and your pride are why we’re stuck here,” she accuses.

I was fooled into thinking that her tears at Mimi’s funeral were genuine and that she wanted to get to know me again. I wanted to have a family so badly that I agreed to move in with her and try to rebuild our relationship, thinking our shared grief would bring us together again.

There’s something in me that can’t seem to let her go, even though I know it’s for the best.

“What’s he doing here anyway?” I wave my hand at the house with disdain.

“We needed the money.”

“He’s not even working,” I raise my voice.

“He gets a decent disability check.”

“I have a job.” We could make it work without him.

“Waitressing isn’t going to get us out of this hole.” She waves me off.

“Well at least I’m doing something,” I call over my shoulder.

I get in my car and barely give it time to warm up before I peel out of the driveway.

When I pull into the parking lot of Al’s Diner, I see a shopping cart near the canal across the street, but no one under the Palo Verde tree this morning.

Eddie’s already getting the griddle warmed up when I go inside, and it smells like bacon. “Your shift doesn’t start for an hour.” In other words, I’m not getting paid for being here early.

Ignoring him, I ask, “Have you seen Herschel?”

“You mean that homeless man you feed almost every afternoon?” he probes.

“I pay for it with my tips,” I remind him sullenly.

Eddie raises an eyebrow and then shakes his head. He thinks I’m wasting my time and money on someone who should be working instead of getting a free meal.

“Didn’t see him when I got here,” he concedes and then goes back to prepping the kitchen.

I put my stuff away in a locker and then get started on filling ketchup bottles. When those are done, I grab the salt and pepper from inside the pantry.

Wednesday’s senior discount brings in a morning rush that keeps my mind occupied and my hands busy, so that I don’t even realize when it’s my break time.

“How ya doin’ sweetheart?” Belinda asks as I pass her by on my way to the breakroom.

“Peachy,” I grumble.

“I hate to tell ya but you don’t look peachy,” she questions.

I hold up two one-dollar bills and she shakes her head.

“Seniors don’t tip well. I told ya that,” she says.

“It’s like they all got together at bingo and decided that two dollars is the standard tip no matter how much the total is.” I shove the bills back in my billfold.

Belinda laughs while I head into the kitchen and grab a couple pieces of bread and cheese. When I try to put it on the grill Eddie smacks my hand away with a spatula.

“Stay away from my griddle.” He waves me away.

“Touchy.” I laugh and hold my hands in the air as I back away.

“That’s your space.” He points to the dining area with the spatula. “And this is my space.” He waves his hand around the kitchen.

“You’re very territorial.” I smile and sashay out of the kitchen while he grumbles behind me.

The whole exchange makes up for my two-dollar tips. I grab a cup of coffee and head into the breakroom. It feels like a ritual, pulling the book from my apron and opening it to my dog-eared page.

Eddie sets the grilled cheese in front of me and says, “You got a customer.”

It must be Herschel, so I put the book back in my apron and pick up the grilled cheese, taking it with me.

There’s only one table occupied at the back of the diner in my section. Before I reach the table, I realize it’s not Herschel.

“Darren?”