Mesh and Lace
“Oh my God,” Cary says, “what if they’re just stalling? What if they don’t have any money?”
Cary’s the best waitress we have. She thinks of things like watching customers who look like they might cut out without paying, and she’s the only one of us who actually recites the specials to every table, no matter how close they’re sitting to the chalkboard. On her, the pink-and-white uniform doesn’t look like a costume. It actually looks cute. She wears her pencil tucked over her right ear.
“They probably just have enough money to cover the check, or they wouldn’t be here. Just don’t expect a great tip or anything,” I say, closing my eyes and massaging the back of my neck.
“Why don’t you take a break?” Cary says. “No one’s gonna come in for a while anyway. Have you had anything to eat?”
“No,” I say, but I’m not hungry. I take her up on the break, but instead of eating I go in the back and wash my face. The night is nice and cool. My shoulders ache from the expectation, all night thinking, any minute now, any minute now someone’s gonna say, hey, let’s go to the diner like we used to . . . . I’d have to wait on them and I don’t want to.
I open the back door to the alley and look up at the sky. Next to me the Dumpster gives off a whiff of fish sticks and grease. I unlace my apron and hang it on the peg next to the ladies’ room, smooth my hair, and start to walk.
The school is only about a block away. I can see it the minute I turn the corner at the gas station. All the lights are on and the parking lot is packed with cars. As I get closer I can hear the beat of the music, The future’s open wide. I don’t plan to get any closer; I just want to see if I can recognize anybody, anything. I stand behind a tree in the parking lot where Tony and I used to meet, feeling like a fool in the dark. I can’t see a damn thing, not anybody anywhere. Everybody’s indoors.
Suddenly it hits me, just how stupid I must look in this god-awful waitress-of-Oz uniform, creeping behind trees, all covered in grease and sweat. Dear God, dear God. In the shadows I can see all of us through the windows, all of us the same, the boys in their navy blue pants and the girls in blue plaid, pleated skirts. All of us the same, for once all of us the same. I want to tear out my hair. I want to be home so bad. I want and want and want. I hold my breath for one second.
