A woman's bad boy marriage can lead to bad men
"Honey, you need to drop those berries on top of the cakes before you flip them rather than stir them in the mix. It will make for a better plate when those ornery customers bite into them plus they cook better that way."
If anybody knew what she was talking about in this little diner it was Carole, an always smiling 250 lb. dark skinned woman from south Alabama. Now where she learned about blueberry pancakes I have no idea but regardless she was an expert not only with the pancakes but everything else she touched with a spoon and a ladle.
"Don't you worry any, honey, all this will grow on you before you know it. Besides if I didn't have you in here with your fancy looks and all, half these roughnecks would park their butts someplace else."
When she smiled the whole room lit up and her laughter would spread through the place like a sweet melody. I thought back to when I first met her but the order up bell brought me back to the reality of the noon crowd rush.
"Jesus, girl, How'd a damn beautiful piece like you end up on this dusty old patch of woods?" He was just playing when he said it but I could hear the lust in the undertones.
"Tooth fairy released me here after I knocked out my husband's front choppers."
I dropped a plate of pancakes and sausages in front of him and he smiled up at me. Of course his eyes traveled to the two open buttons on my uniform and the hint of cleavage they revealed. Gunny Beauregard eyed all the women at Rose's diner looking for the thrill of a glimpse of flesh.
He was a retired Marine and had played in a hundred ports of call and like a hundred others this was just another ring of the bell.
Carole had another two orders up when I got back to the counter and the rush continued until near 1PM when most of the crowd was required to be back on the plant site. My shift was over at 4PM and for the rest of the afternoon I would do clean up and help Carole prep for the dinner customers later that evening.
After signing out I walked the short distance to the little trailer encamped down next to the river pausing just long enough to listen to the mockingbirds pull together a new number just for my benefit. The trailer had air conditioning and was big enough for what I needed and with a small garden patch behind it I had carved out an existence that was reasonably comfortable for the circumstances I lived with.
After showering and pouring a glass of wine I took my usual seat by the river to watch the waters flow by and listen to the sounds of the birds overhead. An occasional whistle blast from the plant down river would burst into their harmony but the singing pairs of birds would easily pick right up from where they left off. I must have drifted off to a light sleep because I never heard her walking up from behind to take a seat next to me.
When the heavy lids rose up from my eyes I saw her sitting there and thought I must have been still asleep and dreaming, just for an instant. Then that moment of clarity that sweeps the cobwebs from every dusty corner of consciousness fired each fiber of nervous awareness bringing me to my feet.
I stood looking at her with tears in both our eyes.
"Momma, what are you doing here?? "
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Daddy sang bass,
Mama sang tenor.
Me and little brother would join right in there.
Cause singing seems to help a troubled soul.
One of these days and it won't be long,
I'll rejoin them in a song.
I'm gonna join the family circle at the Throne.
Oh, no the circle won't be broken.
By and by, Lord, by and by.
It was really a two part harmony because my brother and I couldn't hold a note to a crow's squawk but when we were young Daddy and Momma were our Johnny and June and there were many evenings with the two of them strumming out a rhythm with Daddy on an old Gibson B-25 and Momma feather strumming a Sears & Roebucks autoharp he bought her when they were young, before kids.
My brother Donnie came before me and when I graced the household they named me after my Grannie Macy and I took my rightful place, off to the side, in the back or on the couch if we had company. It's the travails of being the younger; you learn how to wait on your elders, in this case a brother two years older than me.