Novel Treatments / Lord of The South- Chapter 4
“I came back to Sheldon and got a job here at the restaurant. An old widow woman owned it then and when I told her what happened, she let me move in with her and when she passed away, she left me the restaurant and the house.”
“Well, good for you. I’m glad somethin’ good came out if it for you.‘Course, I’m sorry ‘bout the widow.”
“I called Gallen soon after and thanked him for all he had done for me and told him if he ever needed a favor not to hesitate and I meant every word of it. There’s nobody but me livin’ in that big old house behind here and there’s plenty of room for you and the boys. You can stay as long as you want.”
Judy considered Jake a godsend as he took over the kitchen and helped with repairs and decisions. Every day, Jake had to look over his shoulder. He lived in constant fear of Amos finding them. He also lived with the fear that something dreadful had happened to Gallen and wondered if he would ever see him again.
Five months later . . .
CHAPTER FOUR
Dark clouds lined the horizon; illuminated periodically by running streaks of lightning as Melody Anderson sat on the sofa in their weather-beaten old house writing what she considered a very important letter.
The transistor radio crackled with static as the whine of a steel guitar accompanied Hank Williams while he sang, “Your Cheatin’ Heart”.
Rumbling thunder, growing more intense with every passing minute, reminded her of the clothes that needed to be taken down before she could go to the mailbox.
Her parents had gone to the farmers’ market with her uncle Joe and would be upset if she let the laundry get wet. Pushing a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear, she put her pen to paper and wrote:
Dear Cousin Linda, You said Aunt Claire bought you a new wardrobe every year, and gave your last year’s clothes to Goodwill. You know Daddy don’t make much money, being almost blind & all. I will be going to high school this year and need clothes real bad. Could you ask Aunt Claire to send them to me, instead of giving them to Goodwill? Thanks . . . Cousin Melody.
Thunder heads crept menacingly over the treetops when she went through the kitchen to the little room which stored the wringer washer and tubs. Stepping out through the back door, she went down the steps to the clothes line, hanging approximately twenty feet from the outhouse.
Gusty winds hindered her task, but before long, the pile of laundry was on the sofa and Melody was hurrying towards the blacktop with her letter.
The long dirt driveway forked off to five houses scattered about their little family community, surrounded by thick woods. Melody’s house was at the fork.
Five mailboxes, standing in a line at the end of the driveway, rattled in the wind as she tossed the letter in, closing the door. Lightning cut through the clouds when she raised the flag before thunder clapped and rain began to fall.
Running almost blind through what felt to her like a solid wall of falling water, she could barely see the house when a good sized hailstone hit her shoulder, sending her sprawling to the muddy ground where she lost her bearings.
Panic swept her when the clouds released a blanket of hail, pelting her like small rocks. Getting to her feet, holding her arms over her head, she raced in what she thought was the direction of the woods, but to her relief, she was heading straight towards the front door.
Heavy sheets of rain sprayed against the house as she slipped out of her wet clothes into a soft cotton shift, still trembling from her experience.
A nice cold glass of tea and a cigarette would calm her nerves is what she believed. She had been swiping cigarettes from her parents for weeks. The gusty winds had gone and rain fell steadily over the small house as Melody went to the kitchen.
Opening the refrigerator, reaching for the tea, she rolled her eyes with a huff, realizing it wasn’t cold. Their tired old refrigerator had finally died.
Joe’s blue ‘49 ford pickup rattled down the long puddle-littered driveway and she hurried to open the front door. Raindrops sparkled in the headlights as it came to a stop near the front porch where they all scrambled out into the pouring rain, making a dash for the house.
Emma slipped off her scarf, raving about the weather. “Boy howdy what a storm! The hail was so bad, I was afraid it was gonna bust the windshield outta Joe’s truck!”
Elizabeth, who was eighteen months younger than her sister Melody, went to the sofa, getting a towel from the pile of laundry.“Yeah, we had to pull over under a big old tree until it stopped. Were you scared, Melody?”
“A little,” she said, handing her parents a towel.
Joshua sat in his stained and worn chair, bragging about what they got at the market. “You should see the watermelon we got, Melody. Some guy was sellin’ grays for twenty-five cents apiece or five for a dollar; big ones.” He took out his cigarettes, adding, “I was worried about you bein’ alone here durin’ that storm.”
“Daddy,” Melody said, folding one of his shirts.“I got some bad news.
“Oh lord; what is it now?”
“I think the refrigerator’s had it.”
“It figures,” he said, cleaning his thick eyeglasses with the towel. “I guess I better start lookin’ around for another one.” Emma stood behind his chair, wrapping her salt & pepper hair in a towel, worrying silently about how they were going to get the money for such a major purchase.
Her silence spoke volumes to Joshua, who leaned his head back, looking up at her.“It’s gonna be okay, honey; I usually manage to take care of these things.”
She put her hand on his shoulder with a smile, “Want some coffee?” He gathered his cigarettes, following her to the kitchen.
Melody slumped on the sofa with a sad pout. “I wish I had the money to buy us a new refrigerator.”
“Well you don’t,” Elizabeth said, switching the television to the game show, “Concentration”, turning it back to, “I love Lucy”.
“I’ll be thirteen years old in a few weeks, Elizabeth; you think I could get a job?”
“How should I know?” she said, turning the channel again. Melody snatched up a towel and went to the front door. Elizabeth settled down in her favorite place on the splintery wood floor asking, “Where you goin’?”
“The rain’s let up some. I’m goin’ up to Uncle Joe’s house.”
Joe, Joshua’s brother, looked a lot like him with his thick red hair and fair complexion. He was on his way to the garage, which stood between his house and theirs when Melody met him at his front door, holding the towel over her head. “Can I use the phone, Uncle Joe?”
He bit down on his tobacco, spitting into the yard. “Yeah, I reckon; don’t be on it all day.”
“I won’t,” she said, hurrying into the house to the phone in the hall, taking the phonebook to the living room. Olivia, who favored her brothers, Joe and Joshua, came through the back door where she had just come from the basement with a hamper of laundry.
Her short, plump body wiggled all over as she made her way through the kitchen to the living room. “Hi, Melody, whatcha doin’?”
“Lookin’ for a job,” she said, thumbing through the large book.
“Good lord, Melody, you’re too young for anything other than baby sittin’.”
“Did you ever have a job, Aunt Olivia?”
“Yeah I use to be a waitress,” she said, pulling a work shirt over the end of the ironing board, “but you’re too young for that.”
“I’m almost thirteen.”
Olivia switched the television to her favorite soap opera, “The Edge of Night”, while Melody looked up the closest restaurant. She went to the hall, dialed the number, and crossed her fingers when a woman answered, “Country kitchens, Restaurant; Granny speaking. Can I help you?”
“I need a job,” she said hurriedly. “I’ll be thirteen years old in a few weeks. My Daddy’s almost blind and we need the money. I’m a very good worker and you won’t be sorry . . .”
“Whoa!” she said with a laugh. “I can’t hire anyone under . . .”
“We need the money real bad and I promise I’ll work really hard.”
Melody’s expression exploded with surprise when she heard, “Come on in and let me take a look at you.”
The storm had left and the sky was clear. Steam rose from standing water, lingering on the blistering blacktop when Melody started out towards Sheldon. The narrow road was surrounded on both sides by thick woods. The white line in the center was faded and crooked as it ran over the many patches.
The road ended at Main Street, smooth with bright white lines and sidewalks. She made her turn and in less than an hour, she was approaching the parking lot.
Upon entering the restaurant, she saw a counter across from the front door with twelve stools and across from the counter were four booths. An adjoining room was roped off and she could see booths along the walls with tables and chairs sprinkled about in the middle on the hardwood floor.
A small counter with a cash register was against the wall close to the front door where Judy was accepting money from a customer, a cigarette between her lips saying, “Y’all come back now.”
Melody was filled anticipation when Judy approached. The cigarette hung loosely between her lips and one eye squinted at the smoke as she gave Melody the once over, saying with a grin, “You’re a short little shit.”
“Yeah, but I work big!”
“I could get into a lot of trouble hirin’ you.” Melody lowered her eyes and stared at her worn shoes, but raised her head with a smile when she heard, “You’ll need a white uniform, a hair net and stockin’s.”
“Sure, no problem! My Aunt Olivia used to be a waitress. I’m sure she’ll have a uniform.”
“I hope I ain’t makin’ a mistake, but be here in the mornin’ at eight. Come through the back door. If you’re gonna be late, don’t bother comin’ in; I don’t tolerate tardiness. I’ll give you ten dollars a week; cash under the table of course.”
“Oh, I’ll be here on time, Ma’am, I promise!”
The next morning, Emma switched on the light in the girls’ bedroom. “Today’s your first day on the job, Melody.” She rolled out of bed and went to the little room to see if her uniform had dried, but as her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized it wasn’t there.
Emma was sitting in the kitchen crocheting when Melody stepped out of the little room. “Where’s my uniform?”
“Right behind you. Olivia’s a lot bigger so I had to cut it down to fit you.”
She spun around and there it was, hanging on the cabinet door; dry and freshly ironed. “Oh,” she said, taking it down, going to her room, “thanks, Mama.”
Elizabeth rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen as Melody got out of her gown, slipping into the uniform. The first light of day shone through the small window as she stood before the cracked mirror on the chiffonier, applying makeup.
Emma was serving Elizabeth a bowl of oatmeal when she came into the kitchen. “Wow,” Elizabeth shouted. “You look all growed up!”
“You do look nice, Melody,” Emma said in a slightly worried tone. “The uniform fits you perfectly. What’s that on your eyes?”
“It’s makeup, Mama. Peggy gave it to me. All teenagers wear it.”
“Danny’s a teenager,” Elizabeth said with a grinning mouth full of oatmeal, “and he don’t wear makeup,” squeezing juice from her lips, which drizzled down her chin.
Melody swiped a finger across Elizabeth’s chin to wipe away the juice. “Oh be quiet, you.”
“It makes you look at least two years older,” Emma said, putting the pot of oatmeal on the table. “Maybe you should take some of it off.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“I can’t believe the difference a little makeup and a nice outfit makes. My goodness, Melody, I don’t know if I should send you out a lookin’ like this. I’m afraid some guy’s gonna try to pick you up.”
“Oh, Mama; I’ll be all right.”
The morning sun was heating the blacktop as Melody made her way to Sheldon. It was quarter passed seven when she approached the back door of the restaurant, which was actually on the side of the building.
The broad opening, just beyond the back door with a long, wooden counter was the walk-up window. She was about to approach it, but stood instead at the back door, not knowing whether to knock or just go in. A slender, middle-aged black woman appeared around the corner of the building. “Are you lookin’ for somebody, hon?”
“No, I was told to go in through the back door; I start work here today.”
“Well hello,” she said, reaching for the handle, pulling the door open. “I’m Ingrid.”
“Hi, I’m Melody.”
Ingrid entered the kitchen, pointing to another black lady. “This is Cleo,” she said on her way through the kitchen.
Melody stepped in, closing the door when the heavyset woman turned, looking her over with a smile. “What’s a cute white girl like you doin’ in a sweat box like this?”
Before she could respond, the back door opened behind her and she moved aside to let another middle-aged black woman enter.
Short, chubby and clamorous, she turned, giving Melody the once over, glancing at Cleo. “What’s with the kid?”
Cleo leaned against the counter with a grin. “Ingrid says she’s supposed to be workin’ here today.”
“Ain’t no way,” Ruth said with hands on hips. “She ain’t old enough to be workin’ here.”
“Y’all know that ain’t our business,” Ingrid said, coming from the back room, tying on an apron.
Ruth crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. “Anybody can see she ain’t gonna work. Look at her; she looks like a dime-store doll standin’ there!”
Jake strolled leisurely from the back room approaching Ruth with a big metal spoon, tapping it against the palm of his hand. “You can get to work and mind your own business, Ruth, or you can go back out the same door you came in; don’t matter none to me.”
Ruth stormed off to the back room while Melody stood before the large black man, who towered over her, still tapping the big spoon against his hand. Ultimately, she screwed up her courage and asked, “Is Granny here?”
“She’ll be along shortly. I’m Jake. Pay no mind to these characters. They ain’t so bad; once you get to know ‘em.” He turned and went to the grill.
Melody stood awkwardly by the back door, checking out the layout of the kitchen. There was a steam table about twelve feet in front of her and beyond the steam table against the wall, were large metal shelves laden with pots, pans and cooking utensils.
To the right of the shelves was a huge oven in the corner close to the grill, with two gas burners. Cleo was filling plastic eating utensil containers by a register on the counter next to the walk up window. A huge double-sink with a small tunnel-shaped dishwasher was against the back wall and in the far back corner, was a door that she assumed was some sort of stockroom.
At last, Judy came into the kitchen, examining Melody to make sure she was properly attired. “Good heavens, doll; I said don’t be late, but I didn’t mean for you to be here so early.
“I guess I’m a little anxious.”
“That’s okay; everybody gets first day jitters. Come on over here and let me show you what I want you to do.” Melody followed Judy across the room to the dish washer where she grabbed a sprayer head, attached to a metal pipe over the sinks.
“Rinse the dishes off in the sink after you scrape them into that garbage then put them in the dishwasher rack. When you have a full rack, and don’t fill it too full, then push the rack into the dishwasher, close the lid and hit this button. When the dishwasher stops, pull the rack out on the other side and stack the dishes on this counter. You got it?”
“Yeah, um– is that it?”
Judy headed back to the dining room. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”
The sinks had only a handful of dishes in them and she began scraping and rinsing until there was none left. Everyone else was busy so she took the cleaning cloth, draped over the sink, and began wiping down the area.
The back door opened and a young man entered, moving hurriedly to the back room, stopping beside her with a friendly smile. “Hi there, I’m Tommy.”
Happy to see someone there closer to her age, she smiled. “Pleased to meet you. My name’s Melody.”
It wasn’t long before the kitchen came to life when the waitress called through the order window. “Pigs over grits!” (Eggs over with sausage and grits) “Shit on shingles!” (Sausage-gravy over sliced toast)
Jake called through the order window to the waitress. “Pickup – Strip-stack!” (Pancakes and bacon) “Pickup – butt up spuds!” (Eggs up with ham and fried potatoes)
The waitress called back, “86 the butt!” (Forget the ham)
Jack slammed the plate down. “dammit!” taking the ham off, wiping the grease off the plate with a clean towel. “Make up your damn minds out there!”
The heavy smell of grease became almost sickening. Melody ran her forearm across her face to wipe away the sweat when Thomas emptied yet another tray of dirty dishes into the sink atop the huge pile that had already accumulated. She jumped, throwing her hands to her ears when a large pot rolled off the shelf, hitting the floor with a startling clang.
So many voices were coming from all directions. Ingrid was loading plates and carry-out boxes with food from the steam table when a man outside the takeout window complained, “I was here before him!”
Ruth shouted out at him, “You had a bigger order!”
“I ordered shit on shingles,” the man shouted back, glancing at the pan of gravy on the steam table. “The gravy’s already cooked. Just throw in the shit!”
Ruth huffed, rolling her eyes. “We gotta toast the shingles!”
Jake called from the grill, “Shingles up!”
It started slowing down around ten and by ten forty-five there were actually no dishes to wash. Melody busied herself by wiping down her area when Thomas came bouncing into the kitchen taking off his apron.
“I’ll have two country steak biscuits, three scrambled eggs, grits, and a slice of your delicious sweet potato pie, Ingrid.”
“Okay, hon,” she said with a smile. “Go get your drink.”
Judy came into the kitchen, a cigarette between her lips, glancing over Melody’s work station with a smile. “You did real good, doll; you kept up and didn’t complain. Now tell Ingrid what you want to eat and go to the dining room and get a drink.
There was a round wooden table with five matching chairs when Melody entered the back room with a plate of food and coffee. The room was fairly large with cabinets, a broom closet and shelves with cleaning products, aprons and large packs of napkins.
Thomas was choking down his food when she sat down. “Do you ever chew your food, or do you always swallow it whole?”
“I want to grab a quick smoke before I go back to that slave pit,” he said, scraping the last morsel from his plate.
Ingrid and Ruth came in carrying coffee and a plate of food. Melody slid her chair over to make room, asking, “When do the waitresses take their break?”
“They eat in shifts, one at a time,” Ruth said, sitting next to Melody, cutting eggs up into her grits.
“There’s no more seats in here and I was wonderin’ where they’d sit.”
“They eat in the dinning room,” Thomas said, lighting a cigarette.
“Can you spare one of those?”
“You bet,” he said, pushing the pack to her.
“You smoke?” Ruth asked surprised. “You’re both babies! You got no business with them ugly things a hanin’ outta your mouths.”
“Everybody smokes,” Thomas said, tapping his cigarette on the side of the ashtray. “Look at all the people on TV and movie stars.”
“Me and Ingrid don’t smoke. And all them peoples is entertainers and they’s adults. You just a kid, Tommy!”
“Do y’all ever eat in the dining room?” Melody asked before Thomas lit her cigarette.
Ingrid brushed bread crumbs from her lap with a slight smile. “We ain’t allowed to eat in the dinnin’ room, hon.”
“Why?”
Ruth dropped her fork to the plate. “Cause we’s black, child!”
Melody stared idly at her until Ruth rolled her eyes and leaned closer. “You and Tommy can eat in the dinin’ room; you’s white. Black peoples ain’t allowed in there. That’s why they line up at the window out back.”
“Because you’re black? Why would Granny make a rule like that?”
Ruth’s fork hit the plate with a loud clang. “I do declare, child; you just about the dumbest white girl I ever met!”
“Ruth!” Ingrid protested. “That was uncalled for.”
“Well? Who don’t know black folks ain’t allowed to eat in no restaurant? I bet she don’t know we ain’t allowed to ride in the front of the bus neither!”
“You’re right,” Melody said, lifting her coffee, I didn’t. I’ve seen black people sittin’ in the back of the bus, but I thought it was where they wanted to sit. I like riddin’ in the back of the bus. What’s bein’ black got to do with anything?”
“White folks thinks they’s better than us.”
“Well I don’t!”
“Thomas pushed his plate forward, propping his elbows on the table. “Most of our generation doesn’t feel that way, Ruth.”
Ingrid reached for the sugar and changed the subject. “You did very well for your first day, Melody.”
Thomas flicked his ashes into the small metal ash tray. “She beats the hell out of that idiot we had before.”
“Hey!” Ruth barked. “That’s my nephew you’re talkin’ about!”
“Come on, Ruth,” Thomas barked back, “he was slow as Christmas, and you know it!”
“That don’t mean he’s a idiot!” she said with a huff, stuffing a biscuit into her mouth, taking a hefty bite.
“Come on now, Tommy,” Ingrid said, “that’s not very nice.”
Thomas heaved a deep sigh and relented. “I’m sorry, Ruth. I know he’s your nephew and he’s not an idiot.” He leaned, poking her shoulder playfully when he said, “but he was still slow as Christmas,” leaving the room snickering.
With a straight face and a mouth full of food, Ruth uttered, “Yeah, he was.”
Elizabeth was sitting on the floor watching television when Melody came in early that evening, sweat rolling off her brow, cheeks flushed from the heat. “You been gone all day, Melody.”
“I’m beat!” she said, walking around her father’s chair.
“I thought I heard you come in,” Emma said, stepping into the living room from the kitchen. “You look like you’re fixin’ to drop dead, Melody. Your face is pale and your cheeks are red as fire!”
“It’s hot out there.”
“How was your job?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired,” she said, dropping into the chair.
They heard Joshua pull his bicycle up on the porch and Melody scrambled from his chair to the sofa. Emma stood in the doorway to the kitchen when Joshua came through the open front door.
No one said a word until he let out with, “Well? Don’t I get a welcome home, or a hello, Daddy?”
They all laughed as Emma kissed him and welcomed him home. “Are you ready for supper?”
“I’m about starved, he said, following her to the kitchen. “We was short handed so I didn’t get to eat lunch and my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”
“I was just fixin’ to take the biscuits out of the stove. “Supper’s ready!” she called out to the girls, opening the oven door, taking a pan of biscuits out, turning them onto a plate.
Elizabeth talked through most of the meal about her day at school. Joshua pushed his plate forward. “I finished my supper, Mama; now where’s my puddin’?” Emma laughed, dipping a generous portion on the plate and he pulled it back with a smile. “How’d your first day on the job go, Melody?”
“It ain’t easy, Daddy,” she said groggily. “I think it’s that long walk. I thought I was gonna collapse before I got to the front porch.”
“Well you look plum tuckered,” he said, scooping up another spoonful of pudding. “Why don’t you pay somebody for their gas to take you back and forth?”
“I only make ten dollars a week,” she said, getting up, stretching.
“You could ride a bicycle like me. It shouldn’t take long to save up for one. But still, gas is only twenty cents a gallon.” He got up and followed her to the living room. “It wouldn’t cost you more than a dollar or so.”
Emma glanced at Joshua’s plate. “You hardly touched your puddin’, Joshua.”
“I’m full. Rake it out into a bowl and I’ll have it later.”
Melody leaned on the arm of the sofa as Joshua switched on the television. Huntley and Brinkley were going over the day’s headlines on the six o’clock news when he thumbed through the TV guide, saying, “Hey, Melody, there’s a science fiction comin’ on tonight. It’s that one where . . .” she was sound asleep.
He went to the kitchen where Emma and Elizabeth were having their pudding. “You better come on in here and see about her. She’s gonna go to sleep in her uniform.”
Emma came from the girl’s room, sitting in her chair next to Joshua. “She’s sleepin’ like a kitten in a hayloft.”
Joshua snatched up his cigarettes. “Why in blue blazes does she want to work, anyway?”
“She’s independent,” Emma said with a grin, getting up to go back to the kitchen, “like somebody else I know.”
Joshua switched the channel on the television and settled back, staring at the set. Moments later he sprang from the chair and headed for the front door. “Where you goin’, Daddy?” Elizabeth asked, coming from the kitchen.
“I’m goin’ up to Joe’s place, for a spell and see if I can get her a ride to work ‘n back.”
Melody slept right through the night until her mother woke her the next morning for work when she quickly got into her uniform, freshened up her makeup and hurried out the door. Joe was waiting for her when she slid into the cab of the pickup and before long, she was approaching the back door of the restaurant.
The smell of sausage and coffee was strong when she entered. The sounds of the sizzling meat on the grill, the clanging of pans and the squeak of Styrofoam as Cleo organized takeout containers, seemed warm and familiar to her as if she were accustomed to hearing it on a regular basis.
Thomas was in the back room donning his apron. “Hi there, Melody, back for more I see.”
“Well of course,” she said, slipping the apron strap over her head, turning for him to tie it, “did you think I wouldn’t be back?”
“I wouldn’t if I had a choice. Okay, you’re tied.” He smiled when she turned around. “You have the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.”
Judy came in and Thomas quickly slipped past her. Melody started to follow when Judy took her arm. “Let me give you some friendly advice, kid. You don’t want to get involved with that boy.”
“Why? He seems like a nice guy.”
“Tommy’s a great kid, but he comes from a wicked family. If you were my daughter, I wouldn’t let you within ten feet of him.” She turned to leave and paused, seeing Jake in the doorway.
He glared at her, and without breaking his stare, he calmly said, “Go on, Melody, and get to work.” She quickly slipped past him.
Judy backed away as Jake walked her across the room, putting a hand on the wall above her head, moving his other hand around her waist.
“He’s a good kid, Judy. You got no right talkin’ about him like that. He’s lost Gallen and may never see him again; so that makes us the only real family he’s got. He can’t help the kind of family he came from, no more than we can help the fact that you’re white and I’m black.”
He lowered his head, kissing her softly on the lips. She moved her arms along his chest, gently caressing his round face before moving away.
“Would you want your daughter involved with him and his family, knowin’ his father’s huntin’ him down and is probably gonna kill him when he finds him?” Jake lowered his eyes when she added, “He’s probably gonna kill us too.” She left without waiting for a response.
Pulling a chair out, he slowly lowered himself onto it as his mind went back in time, cringing at the memory of Gallen’s panicked words, “He wanted to kill you, Jake!”, shaking his head against the painful memory of the gross helplessness he had felt that night.
“Gallen,” he uttered beneath his breath, closing his eyes tightly at the memory of Anna’s mangled body at the bottom of the staircase.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. For it had only been a few months since he buried her before sharing his bed with another woman. He and Judy had lost more than some could even imagine and being thrust together, struggling to survive, they turned to each other for the strength to go on.
Six weeks later . . .
Emma sliced the meatloaf while Melody scraped a generous portion of fried potatoes and onions onto her plate. Joshua raised his glass, taking a long sip of cold sweet tea before asking, “What are you gonna do about your job when school starts, Melody?”
“Granny said I could work after school and on weekends and she said I’m gettin’ a promotion.”
“What kind of promotion?”
“I’m gonna to be trained to be a waitress.”
“Does that mean you’ll get a raise?”
“Yeah, and I’m gonna get tips, too”
Joshua slid his plate forward for a slice of pie. “I’m real proud of you, Melody. If you’re gettin’ a promotion, it means your boss is pleased with your work.”
The next day, Melody was slipping the apron strap over her head when Ruth entered the back room. “Hey, Melody,” she said, reaching for a box of plastic forks. “You working in the dining room now?”
“Yeah, but I’m gonna miss working in the kitchen.”
“We gonna miss you too, child. You a good worker. ‘Course, I knew you was a good worker from the get-go.” Melody stifled a grin, remembering Ruth’s words that first day. “Anybody can see she ain’t gonna work. Look at her. She looks like a dime-store doll standing there.”
Ruth opened the box, taking out a handful of individually wrapped plastic forks. “Don’t you be lettin’ any of those ugly ole white men be puttin’ their grubby hands on you now. If they reach for your stuff, slap ‘em cross-eyed, honey!”
Thomas came into the back room as Ruth left with her forks, shouting, “Hit ‘em upside the head with a sugar shaker!”
He paused, glancing back at her, looking questioningly at Melody. She laughed softly. “Ruth is giving me advice about what do when guys makes a pass at me.”
“Hit them in the head with a sugar shaker?” They both laughed as Melody turned for Thomas to tie her straps. “You won’t be wearing that if you’re gonna be a waitress.”
“Granny didn’t say anything about it,” she said, taking it off, putting it back on the pile. “I forgot the waitresses didn’t wear aprons.”
A young man, tall and thin with dark hair, entered the break room. “Melody, I’d like for you to meet our new dish washer,” Thomas said with a smile. “This is Billy.”
She turned with a smile. “Hi.”
“Hello,” he said, returning her smile. “Tommy’s told me a lot of good things about you. I see he wasn’t exaggeratin’ when he said you had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.”
“They’re just blue,” she said with a grin. “Do you and Thomas go to the same school?”
”Billy doesn’t attend school anymore. I don’t go to school either. Jake has been teaching us and he does a good job.”
“Us?”
“Jason and Pete?”
“Who’s Jason and Pete?”
“They’re Jake’s boys and kinda like my brothers; we were raised together.”
“Where are they?”
“They’re home taking care of the housework & stuff. Jake gave us a choice and I chose working in the restaurant over making beds and doing laundry.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Why are you back here, Melody? he asked, handing Billy an apron. “You’re supposed to be up front. The waitresses come in through the front door.”
“Oh!” Melody said as she turned with, “Nice to meet you, Billy,” and hurried through the kitchen. Judy was refilling cream containers when she entered the dining room. “Okay Granny, I’m ready for my first day on the counter.”
“Come here,” she said, taking a napkin from the dispenser. “Always put a glass of ice-water in front of every customer that sits down and place a napkin . . .”
Two years later . . .
Melody had grown a lot in those two and a half years, mentally, physically and emotionally. Having a job since she was thirteen had forced her to mature faster than most teenagers.
Going on sixteen, she had actually outgrown her peers, blossoming into a lovely young lady with a shapely figure, long wavy blond hair and dazzling blue eyes.
Having filled the sugar shakers, she stood in the corner smoking a cigarette behind the counter as darkness slowly fell outside the windows of the restaurant.
Joe had called earlier and said he was going to be a little late picking her up. They had already dismissed the other two waitresses because there hadn’t been more than three customers in the last hour and they were all coffee drinkers.
Judy came from the back with a stack of order pads, putting them under the counter, glancing around the dining room. “Looks like you’ve got everything done in here.”
She went to the door, switching off the lights to the parking lot. “Go ahead and turn off the burners,” she said, going back to the kitchen for napkins. That was her pet peeve. She insisted on filling the napkin holders herself.
Ingrid was leaving when Judy entered the kitchen; Ruth and Cleo had already gone. Jake was cleaning the grill when she passed on her way to the back room. “Grab me a grill pad while you’re back there,” he said, sliding the wooden panel across, closing the order window.
Headlights flashed through the restaurant window and Melody recognized Joe’s pickup. She leaned through the dining room doors into the kitchen and smiled at Jake. “Uncle Joe’s here.”
“Okay,” he said, scraping grease off the grill. “See you in the mornin’.”
Judy came stomping from the back room to the grill holding a grill pad. “I had to stand on a chair and reach way back behind everything to get this! Next time you can get it yourself.”
“I wondered what took you so long,” he said with a chuckle, giving her a light kiss.
“You get a kick out of aggravatin’ me, don’t you?” she said, running her arms around him with a feisty grin.
“Ouch!” he shouted when she pinched him on the behind, walking quickly away. “That’s right, hit & run. I’ll get you back.” He dropped the pad on the grill, muttering to himself, “Pinch me on the butt; that’s a sensitive area.”
”You ole fool,” she said with a grin, passing through the kitchen in a flood of giggles with an armful of napkin packs. “You love it.”
Jake tossed his cleaning rag on the grill to object when a wave of panic swept over him. Judy had dropped the packs of napkins and her cigarette fell from her lips to the floor as she stood in the doorway to the dining room, apparently shocked by what she was seeing.
Heart racing, he glanced at the window in the back door, catching a glimpse of a wide-brimmed hat passing by. “God help us,” he whispered, snatching up the meat cleaver, walking slowly around the steam table. His worse nightmare had come true. Amos had found them.
The cleaver clutched tightly in his hand, slowly approaching Judy, he heard a man from the dining room say, “Tell him I’m here.”
Lowering the cleaver, he let it slip from his hand, hitting the floor with a clang as he clutched his heart and shouted, “Oh . . . my . . . GOD!”
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Reviews
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
This 76 word review has not been unlocked.
This 91 word review has not been unlocked.
This is a remarkable piece of work: I have to say to start, I’m from the UK so even if I worried about punctuation mistakes, I fear that our and your punctuation and spelling differs to make any crits on it I might have meaningless.
You so worked in a Diner at some point: and a Southern one at that – I could almost smell the eggs cooking. If you didn’t, you have an incredible observation – either way, the atmosphere you created here is spellbinding.
I have doubts about the section dealing with segregation just because it’s been worn well from Alex Haley onwards but that said, the naivety of Melody, striving to be grown up does come to the fore here and you don’t get preachy at all which is always a worry about such subjects irrespective of how true they are.
Being a cockney Londoner I was always advised not to “over-write” with too much colloquial dialogue but I think your characters speak from their birth-places and with such a warmth.
I’d love to read this novel in full.
- add/view comments (0)
There are some small redundancies or unecessary words in your prose. I note that you have asked reviewers to note errors, especially punctuation, but I feel these qualify. The word “approximately” in the line about the position of the clothes line could be dropped. Of course in the second sentence, in the dialogue the word “woman” after “widow” could be dropped unless it is something you feel adds to the voice of the character talking.
“Gusty winds hindered her task,” is a little laboured. The word task sticks out too much and you could avoid that word, and the sentence structure that involves it, with very minor revision.
Love the involvement of the weather, almost like another character. But at the point where she turns from the mailbox and then falls over when a hailstone hits her on the shoulder….I felt like this needed just a little more build up. It just felt a little sudden. I think she needs to react with a jump, or something, and then run. Very small stuff, I know.
I think your writing has a ring of authority to it, as a reader I felt comfortable with you and trusted you and that is a great achievement. As I read on I think the redundancies are very small and are really what amounts to using sort of umbrella words to emphasize stuff. The hanging of the laundry as a “task”, then when Melody gets back to the house, out of the rain, and is still trembling “from her experience”. You could leave it at “still trembling.” Cos when you use these umbrella words like experience and task it makes the particular activity become more generalised, and that detracts from the power of the narrative that is already there. It`s like you are being just a little too careful to make sure we understand. You are a talented writer….we get it the first time. I won`t go on cos that is really the only thing. Cheers and all the best of luck.
The other thing, finally, is your dialogue and different voices are superb and say so much about the characters and that really draws us into the story.
I was interested by the characters and the story flowed well, except that the almost continuous dialogue wore me out after a while. Why? Well, mostly because of the too careful dialect and folksy language. I think you could hint at it by using just a few of those expressions, without having so much of it that the reader was distracted by it. At least this reader was.
One thing that puzzled me. It seemed unnatural to me that people would have to explain segregation to each other. People living in a particular era tend to know the ground rules; I don’t remember anybody ever talking about the separation of races and the various discrimination, like blacks having to go up a separate stair case and sit in the balcony of theaters. That’s just the way it was. Why would this “white girl” not already know these things? It also bugged me that people would say something as direct as “What’s a cute little white girl doing in a place like this?” These people would be a little more cautious than that—they might say “cute little thing” but white girl?
The description and language of the atmospheric diner worked well, especially all the slang terms for the different dishes. Good work over all—keep going!
Overall i thought this was pretty good – the opening paragraph set up the chapter nicely and the rest of the piece flowed nicely as well. I did however think the the passing of a lot of time, i.e. 6 weeks, 2 years etc could be separated from the text to try and differentiate between time periods. or maybe just separating them with stars would denote a greater period of time passing. The dialogue was believable and succinct and and the descriptions of the characters and scenes were beautifully vivid. look forward to reading more.
Showing 1 - 6 of 6
Review item
Add to faves
GENERAL
REVIEW QUEUE
Ratings & Rankings
