When it’s busy I stay behind the cash register and help train the new girl, Jessica. She has thin, over-processed hair, high on her head in a ponytail fastened with a bow. Just like a five year old. And she grasps absolutely nothing the first, or even the second, or even the third time around. Mom doesn’t pay me for training her, or for anything else. She’s harder on me than Dickhead ever was. As part of my punishment, even my tips go to church.
Every night I go to bed with a sore body. The collapse is my only relief. But I would never ever tell Mom I’m thankful for the exhaustion that steals away my ability to think about baking, my future plans, or Charlie.
I haven’t baked a thing since the contest. My heart won’t let me. Mom won’t let me either—as punishment. But the joke’s on her.
Charlie and I have developed a pattern when we see each other at the café:
I take tubs of dirty dishes back to him and say nothing, but my whole body still reacts because it’s Charlie.
Charlie says nothing,
I rush out quickly. Each time I swallow a bigger lump because each time I miss him a little more.
Rinse. Repeat.
Twenty days after the contest, I’m over the absolute shock of it all, but still numb. I carry back a tub of crusty bowls, setting them on the end of the triple sink for Charlie. His apron sits low on his hips, reaching all the way down to his ankles. It’s tied sloppily in back and I can’t help but think about him in the dorm room with the towel, half naked and beautiful.
“Need something?” he asks. He grabs a soup bowl while he keeps his eyes on the sink.
Before I can say anything, he squeezes the trigger on the rinse hose, blasting pea crust off the bowl.
These are the first words he’s spoken to me since our fight.
But I don’t know what to say anyway, so I just watch his bicep flex under his white T-shirt sleeve while he shoots another dirty bowl. He keeps his back to me, grabbing dishes while I try to think of anything I could say to him.
Charlie’s head turns slowly until he’s pretty much glaring at me over his shoulder. I know I owe him an apology. The rational side of me realizes that, but the rest doesn’t care.
“Kara!” I hear Mom yelling from the front.
I head out there.
Mom smiles, her teeth pressed together. I know she needs to tell me something, and I infer from her look that it’s about Jessica, the new girl. I know what it is, too: Jessica screws up the register every single shift. But Mom will never fire her. Mom needs to save her. Now Jessica has table-bussing duty, so I don’t have any reason to go into the kitchen.
“Kara,” Mom whispers. “Jessica just charged someone five hundred and sixty-five dollars for their soup. I need you to stay on the register.”
Jessica carries a dish tub past us, and given the blissful look on her face I imagine she’d skip back to the dishwashing area if she could.
I watch her over the next hour, noticing how she carries half-full tubs back, which puts her in the kitchen a lot.
When I catch her carrying a tub that holds a single fork, I decide to call her on it. “Jessica, you need to wait until a tub is full before you take it back to the dishwasher.”
She tilts her head, like maybe she’s confused. “Charlie likes me to bring him every single dirty dish, right away. I think he needs me to bring him the dishes as they get dirty, don’t you?”
I stand in front of her, trying to figure out if she’s as stupid as she pretends to be, which seems impossible. “It’s a waste of effort for you take back one single fork when we have a lot going on out here!”
“Whatever.” She sighs, scurrying around me, her straw-like ponytail whipping side to side under that bow, back to Charlie.
I wipe the counter. I hear Jessica’s squealing laughter. Charlie’s laughing, too, and I know they’re talking, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. My hands shake. I almost knock a glass to the floor. If they don’t stop it back there I’m going to knock Jessica on the floor, too.
When I look up, I see Noah staring in the window. He has both hands framing his eyes, like he’s trying to get a better view.
I set the rag down and walk around the counter, flushing a bit because now he’s looking at me. He smiles weakly and gives me a little wave before he turns and walks quickly down the street. Must’ve been looking for Noelle, I guess.
I pick up the cleaning rag again as Mason and Noelle walk in.
Mason plops down at the counter. “Hey, McKinley, ’sup?” he asks while he sticks his earbuds in.
I wipe down the espresso machine and I nod in the direction of the kitchen. “I have to train a dumbass and I don’t even get paid. That’s what’s up.”
Noelle sits on Mason’s knee with her elbows on the counter.
“Where should we do lunch tomorrow? Should we try the Indian place? Or do you want to come back here for Jesus soup? You pick.”
Noelle’s changed since I came back and told her everything that happened at the contest and with Charlie. She’s nicer. Whenever possible, she sneaks me out in her Mini and buys me lunch. She’s worried about me. Which I guess is good. At least someone is.
Jessica’s obnoxious giggling erupts from the back.
“See what I mean?” I mutter.
Noelle perks up. “Uh-oh, she’s falling for Mr. Sudsy back there. Hey, it’s not her fault you gave him up.”
I wipe the end of the steamer nozzles. “Whose side are you on here?”
Noelle takes a quick peek at Mason, who’s bobbing his head to what’s playing on his iPod. “The truth hurts, Kar. If Mr. Hoyt ever dumps his fiancée, I’ll be on him before self-gratification even crosses his mind.”
“Nice. You’re sitting on your boyfriend’s lap.”
“He can’t hear me. And we’re not married.” She readjusts so she’s straddling Mason in a particularly grotesque way at the exact moment Mom passes by.
“Ohhh no you don’t!” Mom scolds. “You’ve heard me before, Noelle Butler. You save your grinding for elsewhere. Now either hop down from there, or scoot!”
Noelle climbs down and takes the stool next to Mason. I notice the pink in her cheeks when she sips her Coke. She’ll never back-talk my Mom—ever.
Jessica emerges from the kitchen, red-faced as usual and fanning herself. She steps in next to me behind the counter and elbows me like we’re BFFs.
“Do you think Charlie has a girlfriend?” she asks.
Noelle leans across the counter. “Hey, Jess?”
Jessica pulls back, frowning. “Nobody calls me Jess. Who are you?”
Noelle cracks her knuckles and leans forward. “It doesn’t really fucking matter who I am. But here’s the thing, Jess, and I want you to know this because I’m worried about you. If you hook up with a dishwasher, he will expect you to suck on his bubbles the first date.”
Noelle is clearly too much for Jessica to process. The poor girl blinks several times. Finally she gasps, “You’re disgusting.”
“I just speak truth. Ask Kara. Now, if you want a Prince Charming, then you need look no further.” Noelle turns around and makes a gun with her hand, pointing at Hayden.
“What is going on with you and Charlie?” Mom asks later, when Jessica takes her break, and Noelle and Mason are gone.
I rearrange the bills in the drawer. “Nothing.”
She follows me to the supply closet. “Kara, I think you need to talk to him. He’s been so miserable, distant, and short-tempered with everyone lately.”
“Doesn’t seem miserable.”
“Kara, what’s wrong? I sent him down to California to bring you back. I know I should’ve gone myself. I was so swamped here and I couldn’t go, and you two are just kids and you were down there in San Francisco together, unsupervised by anyone but God himself. I can only pray that you didn’t partake in sins of the
flesh because that—”
“Jesus Christ, Mom!”
“That only separates you from God, Kara. He commands you to wait until marriage. And damn it anyway! ” She whacks the supply closet door. “Stop using our Savior’s name in vain!”
I ignore Mom and walk back to the counter at the same time that Jessica bounces in and hands me a blue-gray envelope. “Sorry, Karen, I forgot to give this to you. Has your name on it. Someone left it on the counter.”
My heart pounds, but I still correct her. “Ka-ra, the end rhymes with Jes-si-ca.”
Mom turns, frowning at me, but then her face relaxes a bit and her eyes are questioning.
No, Mom, please don’t ask me anything. Please.
A group of customers walks through the door. When Mom rushes over to greet them, I turn my back, shoving the note in my pocket.
“I’m taking my fifteen,” I say to Jessica, grabbing my coat and lukewarm latte, and heading out the door. February blew its way into Seattle with a lot of snow. The Ave, dusted with white, is also barfing up Valentine’s Day. Everywhere it’s red and pink, reminding me of the loser that I am.
The door jingles and Mom zips out into the cold, all bundled up. At first I think she’s chasing after me to continue our argument, but then I see that she’s holding the paper take-out bag she thinks hides the bank bag so well. Anyone keeping track would notice how Mom leaves at the exact same time every day. Robbing her would be a cinch.
I sit down at a table outside and watch until she’s vanished. Then I take the envelope out of my pocket, tear into it, and read it.
In the dark do you think of me?
Cramming it back into my coat pocket, I walk back inside. Jessica’s rushing into the kitchen through the swinging door, leaving no one to look after the cash register.
I don’t even take my coat off as I bolt through the door after her.
Already she’s talking and laughing with Charlie.
“You can’t leave the counter when no one is there, Jessica!” I yell at her. “You are so stupid!”
She’s holding the dish tub when she turns to me, her mouth open in surprise.
“Whoa, Kara?” Charlie stands in front of her, blocking her from me. His hands are up and I see tiny bubbles of soap on his palms. “Do you really need to talk to her like that? She’s new. She doesn’t know everything yet.”
“She doesn’t know anything, Charlie! The fucking cash register could get robbed if no one’s out there watching it! A normal person would get that, obviously, after working here two fucking minutes!”
Of course Jessica starts crying now.
“She made a mistake, it happens,” Charlie says. “Back off.”
Charlie puts his arm protectively around her shoulder while he tells her I didn’t mean it and that everything will be okay.
I bite hard on my lip so I don’t say anything else. What a dumb cow. And he can’t see that? I turn and bolt back into the café.
The front door swings open with a gust of wind, blowing Mom through it, along with Raul, the other dishwasher, to relieve Charlie.
Mom smiles. “Kara, you can be off now if you’d like.”
I don’t respond. I grab my coat and head outside because I don’t want to go upstairs yet. The sky is dark blue and black, a clear night, and I’m standing against the wall when Charlie rushes out the door, not seeing me. He still wears his apron, and it flaps against his legs as he walks.
I want to talk to him, need to talk to him.
So I follow him toward the bus stop that would take him home to the most expensive side of the Hill.
I know Charlie’s neighborhood well. Gaby and Jen and I always used Halloween as an excuse to stalk the homes of boys we had crushes on. For us it meant going to a bunch of houses because Gaby loved lots of boys at the same time. We always lied to Jen’s mom about our reasons for being dropped off in the most expensive neighborhood.
There’s just a dusting of snow, now frozen. Most of the sidewalk has been salted so I don’t have to worry about the sound of crunching snow under my feet.
Charlie’s walking briskly and I stay about twenty feet behind him, in the shadows.
But he passes his bus stop, walking straight down the Ave and past Crockett’s. I can hear Justine’s loud voice as a customer enters through the automatic doors.
“That’ll be one fifty-nine, young sir.”
I wish I could go in and talk to her and tell her what a mess I’ve made of everything.
Charlie stops and turns around. I freeze. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he steps toward the store. Then he stops, maybe thinking for a moment before walking in.
“Well hey there, you cutie of a stranger!” Justine’s voice cries. “I hate to tell you but your Kara—” Her words fade out, cut off by the automatic doors.
Something in the dark catches my eye and I see the glow of a cigarette. My heart jumps a little. Jason steps out into the light.
“Hey, Kara.” His voice sounds like a robot’s.
Whatever. I’m not even answering. I’m too baffled to be creeped out. I peer through the glass doors, careful not to get too close so that they’ll slide open and give me away. Jason vanishes back into the alley like a troll backing into his cave.
Charlie stands at the end of the checkout stand, his head strained toward Justine. She’s standing a little too close to him, cleavage on display. Oh well, that’s Justine. I immediately feel bad for thinking she might have intentions. Her smile is friendly and she is listening to him, nodding the entire time. I watch her lips to see if they form my name at all. Charlie nods. She blows him a kiss and he turns to leave. I dash to the safety of some snow-frosted evergreen bushes as the doors part and he exits. He continues down the Ave and I duck out into the street so the parked cars can hide me. He starts whistling. This ticks me off because maybe it means he’s happy, and how could he be happy when we aren’t together?
The old Catholic church where he took me to see his old truck looms ahead. I have to hustle to keep up with him. He runs up the steps and disappears inside the big wooden double doors.
Oh no.
It all hits me. I was right. He is totally a Holy Roller. It explains why he started working at my Mom’s café in the first place. It explains why he’s so tortured. Why he has such gentlemanly ways. Why it’s impossible to hate him. Why he can walk into a bar, underage, and be greeted with cheers. Why he defended that idiot, Jessica. Always amen-ing and hallelujah-ing my mother’s Bible babble. Charlie’s becoming a priest, isn’t he? Holy shit.
I hold the old iron door handle, wondering if I really want to do this—as in, talk him out of it. I’d probably go straight to Hell.
I have to plant my feet wide apart to get the doors to open, even though he threw them open with ease. It’s dark and silent inside. Cavernous. Echoey. Holy. I have no business being here and no clue where Charlie disappeared to.
I hide in the corner so I can scope out the place from behind a back pew. In the front pews I see a few solitary people kneeling in prayer, but I don’t see him. An old lady makes her way toward me, clutching a rosary to her chest. Small candles flicker against the wall nearby, where a woman kneels. Charlie is gone, but there’s a door behind the altar, and that’s all I can see as a possible escape route.
I leave and walk back out into the cold. Off to the side of the parking lot sits Charlie’s truck, moved from where it was last time. I walk around the church, figuring that the door behind the altar must lead somewhere. Each step I take toward the back of the church sends my pulse higher. A bus thunders past and somewhere in the distance sirens wail.
My feet crunch into a half-inch of snow. I notice thin yellow light slanting out onto the walkway behind one of the basement windows. Tiptoeing along the edge of the rhododendrons, I crouch just outside it.
The
re’s a cot-like bed made up neatly against the painted concrete block wall. A small bedside table holds a lamp, an alarm clock, a Bible, a stack of books, and a picture of a woman. An ugly green throw rug lies on the concrete floor. Maybe so the person who gets out of that bed can avoid the frigid shock each morning. The rug grows darker as a shadow moves over it and into my line of view.
Charlie.
His feet are bare and a towel is wrapped around his waist.
Charlie’s at the church half-naked?
He disappears and returns pulling what looks like a portable heater. It must be freezing in there. When he moves toward the window I fall on my ass. I scoot back in an awkward crab-walk.
I turn away when he drops the towel. If Noelle were here, she’d be trying to snap a picture by now. When I turn back, Charlie is pulling on a T-shirt to top off some sweats. He crawls into the cot and starts texting someone.
Maybe he’s texting me. I can imagine what he’d write.
Hey, peep show much?
My cell stays silent.
Charlie sets the phone down and lies back in bed.
I’m frozen and I need to get out of here before he turns off the light; before the glow from the street reveals the pervy girl outside his window.
Why is he sleeping at church? Don’t priests in training sleep in a priest dorm or something? And they surely don’t sleep half-naked. So maybe that’s not it. He said his dad went to California. But he came back, right? Why isn’t he living with his dad?
When I reach Charlie’s truck my spine prickles, reminding me that I’m out in the dark alone.
And that’s when I hear the noise behind the tree next to me.
26. Poke the middle to check for doneness.
..........................................................
The night sky is black and starry, with fuzzy gray edges to the west.
I hurry around the side of the Ranger to the sidewalk. The noise could be anything. It could be a homeless person I don’t want to offend by running away.
From Where I Watch You Page 18