GRILL!

by Diane Stegman

  “IT’S NOT FUNNY! I REALLY HAVE CANCER HERE IN MY ARM!” He looks and sounds like a bratty child as he holds his arm. The entire restaurant is silent and looking in our direction as the “C” word radiates fear in all the guests who are trying to enjoy their meal.

  “Bubba, I had no idea! You’ve never said a word about this to me.” I am so embarrassed standing here like this. I would never purposely hurt anyone! Everyone saw that I barely touched him. A couple of the men are still snickering. I don’t think that they believe Bubba’s big show of pain for one minute. I don’t know what to think of this scene. Terry mentioned something about cancer.

  Bubba storms back to the kitchen, counts out his tips, and leaves the kitchen slamming the door. I am left alone standing there with a pot of coffee, like an exhibit, everyone awaiting my next move. I’m sure they expect hysteria. Then I see Lottie sit down at a table. I walk stiff and awkwardly over to her, and am relieved to be free of my bewildering moment. The fishermen are getting up from the table now.

  “Hello Lottie! Would you like your regular?” Lottie starts in. “Bubba is the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. What a rude son-of-a-bitch! I love Billy, and I love her food here, and if this wasn’t the only place in town to eat, I’d stay away, just to not see him ever again! He did that show of pain to get to you! He’s jealous! He’s afraid you’re gonna be a better cook than he is, which by the way, you are. He’s workin’ it good for sympathy of some sort. Don’t let him get to you. He’s gonna try, mark my words! And yes, I’ll have my regular.” I like Lottie. I guess owning and operating a bar in Vegas for twenty years has taught her a lot about alcoholic, temperamental, bullies. The fishermen have left me a twenty-five dollar tip. It appears it was me that was pitied.

  I am getting the dishes all cleaned up when Betty comes on duty. She is raring to go! She gets me caught up on food prep faster than a bolt of lightening! I hear banging of dishes being cleaned. She zooms to the oven with a tray full of potatoes to bake. She chops the lettuce. With Betty’s hyper-vigilance, I can concentrate on cleaning up Bubba’s mess at the grill. When I cook, I clean as I go. Bubba only does his food orders and his neglected messes build up, one on top of the other.

  It’s not easy to make Betty slow down enough to chat. I’d like to get to know her better. What makes Betty tick? It’s easy to see from her looks that it is not drugs. I start asking her questions that she answers while working. I find out that she is Amish, and was shunned by her family for an undisclosed reason six years ago. She has worked here ever since. She lives alone, and has no pets. This job is her life. She is apprehensive to admit to me that Bubba is difficult to work for, but is telling me in her own way, how happy she is to work with me in the kitchen. She greatly admires Billy and Ray, and has given her all to please them. Poor little thing! She says she’s happy. She loves being free and on her own. I need to find out more about the Amish someday.

  After my short break to check on my dogs, I return to the kitchen just in time for the dinner crowd to start arriving. We are extremely busy, and everything is running smoothly, thanks to Betty’s efficiency. I am cooking two ham steak dinners and a Rueben. Betty has just picked up an empty, used, mixing bowl from my cooking area and zoomed around the corner to clean it. I hear the crash on the other side of the wall. It sounds like a jet airplane has just flown through the building and crashed through a pile of stainless steel pans. The wall vibrates. I see the restaurant guests stand up. Their mouths are open in shock, and they are looking towards the floor area by the sink. I walk around to the sink area, and find Betty on the floor. She has crashed into the tall drying rack full of dishes and pans! She is in a ball on the floor crying and holding her left arm.

  Billy and Helen come running to the kitchen. We all hover over her. The left side of Betty’s face, and her left shoulder and arm are beginning to swell. Bruises are developing that are the exact shape and size of the drying rack. She hit the rack with the force of a bullet! Betty looks pale, and is in agony. Billy and Helen walk her to Billy’s car to drive her to the hospital. Helen does not go with them because she is needed at the register. The closest hospital is an hour away. Does the chaos never end? Karen has quit, and now Betty will be out for a long time. I know she has broken a bone, or bones, somewhere in that little body.

  Henry comes in to eat. He has a severe limp from an old injury years ago. One leg is shorter than the other. He wants to know what my special is for the day. “I’m sorry Henry, I didn’t have time to make one today.”

  “That’s too bad. Sure did love yur Spanish steak, little lady. What’s ya got goin’ on with them angry looking bites on yur arms and ankles?”

  “I guess the mosquitoes around here just love me.” I am still in shock about Betty’s horrible fall, so my conversation sounds monotone. It’s hard to be conversational right now.

  “Who wouldn’t? I’ll tell ya what ya need. Ya need some garlic tablets. That’ll keep them buggers away!”

  “Henry, Betty just took one heck of a fall. Billy just took her to the hospital.” Henry does not seem too surprised about this news. “That little gal was headed for a fall for years! Runs around like she’s all wound up tighter than a rubber band! That’s too bad. I guess I’ll have my regular, if I can’t have one of yur specials. If ya ever feel like comin’ out to my ranch some day, let me know. I’d sure love for ya to see my operation out there.” Henry seems unconcerned for Betty.

  “Thanks, Henry. Maybe I just might do that one day.” Still monotone.

  I return to the grill to finish the dinner hours. It does not take me long to clean up after everyone has left since Betty had done most of the work before she fell. The last customer leaves at 7:20. I clock out at 8:15. I have made $87 in tips. I leave Betty’s share in an envelope under the counter. It is still light enough outside to walk around the park with the dogs. Guests are still barbecuing, fishing, playing cards at their outside tables, and kids are running around, so I feel safe. Bubba and Terry are collecting trash, and driving it in the scooter to the back forest storage area. God only knows where they are piling it! At least the trash is getting picked up before the weekend madness! The new guests will now have some place to put their trash.

  The ducks see me, and run in my direction to be fed. I throw out a pan of seed before returning to my trailer. I hope they leave me alone in the morning. I decide to take a small bag of feed with me, just in case they are waiting by my trailer tomorrow. I guess I should have let them live off the dog food.

  Before taking the dogs out I spray myself with the insect repellent and then walk the perimeter of the park. Ray is sitting with Jim having a cocktail at Jim’s picnic table at the bend in the road. Once again the barking begins between all the dogs. I shout out. “Have you heard anything from Billy about Betty?”

  Ray replies. “Yeah, she broke her shoulder real good! Billy wants ya to come on over later for a drink. She’ll want to know about the day and how everything went. Billy should be home in about an hour. She had to take Betty home and put her ta bed.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  Back at the fifth wheel, I eat the grilled ham and cheese I had made for myself, feed the dogs a mixture of dry dog food mixed with leftover New York steak, and take a shower. I see Billy’s car lights entering the park. Ray’s old truck squeaks by my trailer on the way back from Jim’s, headed to his house. I’m anxious to hear about Betty, but do not rush over so that Billy and Ray have time to catch their breath and relax. I make myself a gin and limeade, and play with the dogs for twenty minutes or so by throwing their toys up onto the bed to fetch.

  Bubba has his five-alarm fire going in his fire pit. Good, at least I can talk to Billy and Ray alone tonight! I have a few questions. When I get to their sliding glass door, I see Billy inside pouring a drink, and Ray is picking at his arms at the bar and is wearing his oxygen hose. They see me, and wave to come in. Ray greets my arrival by saying. “Well, there’s our pretty gal! Ya got one of them sissy drinks ag
ain I see.”

  “Can’t help it Ray, I just love these on warm summer nights.” I look fondly at my icy green drink. “So Billy how is Betty?” I quickly add.

  “She’s busted her shoulder real good. Also has a concussion. I’ve told her a million times to slow down! Knew that’d a happen one day. She’ll be out for several weeks, maybe the rest of the summer. Damn, is she bruised! Heard that racket in the kitchen, and thought the roof done come down on the place! Gotta real problem now with help. Karen quittin’ like she did, and now Betty all banged up. Might have ta hire someone for the rest of the summer. Little local gal named Jamie asked the other day. Might give her a call. She needs work until she starts college in September.”

  “Boy, that fall of Betty’s scared the heck out of me. She must have been going faster than the speed of light!” I say as the crashing once again flashes through my mind.

  “How’d it go at the grill tonight? Any problems?” Billy asks.

  “No, no problems to speak of. It’s just that I was wondering about Bubba’s cancer?”

  “Bubba don’t have no cancer! Never heard him mention anythin’ about that before. Why?” Billy looks bewildered at me as smoke from her cigarette rolls into her eyes and makes her squint.

  I tell Billy and Ray about the incident in the restaurant today, and question them about his aggressive behavior. “Well, if he has some problem with cancer, he’s never talked to us about it. Has he ever said anythin’ to you Ray?” Ray shakes his head no, and continues itching. “And as far as him being dangerous, that’s also a big no. He ain’t nothin’ but a big teddy bear! It’s all bark, and no bite, believe me, we should know!” I think they are in denial.

  “Billy? Is Terry employed here with you?” I’m beginning to feel nosey, but my curiosity overpowers my ignorance. I want information!

  “Naw, she’s just hangin’ around to be with Bubba. We’ve had a few problems with that gal, that’s for sure! She gets herself drunk, and all hell breaks lose. That’s why we won’t give her a permanent job here. We’ve had to make her leave a time or two before, but she always comes back.”

  “Oh,” like diarrhea as Bubba said.

  “Quit yur damn itchin’ Ray!” Billy slaps Ray’s hand.

  “I can’t Billy. Ya know it drives me crazy at this time of the night!” Ray replies in frustration.

  I make an offer to help out on that current problem. “Listen, where’s that witch hazel? I can apply that to your arms while we chat.”

  “Would ya?” Billy was pleased with my offer. “I’d do it, but I’m too tired. Ray doesn’t have the energy to do it for himself. We’d really appreciate that! I’ll get the witch hazel.” Billy gets up and begins looking under several piles of things in the disorderly house.

  I clean up his arms with warm water first, then gently begin patting the tender skin with witch hazel. Ray’s eyes are closed in the comfort of my nursing. He softly says, “Yur an angel! That feels so good. Can’t thank ya enuf’. Ya know that this is yur job forever now, don’t ya?”

  “Why not? If I’m over here, I’d be more than happy to be your nurse.” Nurturing is my specialty.

  “I’m gonna start that lawn on Tuesday. Need to make a lawn for our pretty lady.” Ray nurtures right back.

  Billy is smiling and smoking as she watches me apply the Witch Hazel to Ray’s arms. She says, “Ya know Denise, Ray’s got that eczema problem all over his legs too.” I gulp as I imagine the layers of clothes dropping. “Oh how horrible! Well, next time, you put some shorts on, instead of these tight, scratchy jeans, and I’ll get the legs too!” They both seem trusting, pleased, and relieved.

  “Billy? I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what’s with the trash situation? Isn’t there an easier way to get rid of all that garbage?” I just can’t help from asking.

  “We think the dump truck has had it! I’ve gone online and found a used trash truck with a front loader for sale. It’ll hold all we can give it. Anyway, I bought it. They’ll be shipping it by diesel truck from Idaho soon.” Billy says and then gulps down the last of her strong drink.

  “Sounds good! That should make things a lot easier for everybody!” I say wondering to myself how reliable a used trash truck found online in Idaho could be.

  After a short time, I say good night, and return to the fifth wheel. I listen to my Native American Indian music in the darkness of my druggy bed. Bonita and Bandito are curled up consolingly under the covers on opposite sides of my hips. The soft drumming and chanting helps to distract me from my small metal dungeon on wheels parked in the land of the lost and damaged. One more day of work, and then I have two days off! I take a deep breath and blow my anxiety up and out the skylight above my head.

  Chapter Ten

  I am wide-awake and there is the faintest deep blue glow hinting the beginning of sunrise. I slept like a log! It’s very quiet outside, and nothing has stirred yet. Not the ducks, not Bubba walking by, not a logging truck—nothing! Even Bonita and Bandito are staying in bed late. I revel in the silence, drinking my coffee, and thinking about how I will spend the next five hours before going to work. A long drive sounds really nice. I need to get away from here for a while. I need to explore the national park. A drive is exactly what I will do!

  By the time the sun peeks over the horizon, I have my camera, snacks, water, pepper spray, and my dogs, all ready to go. The ducks see me from their current spot across the lake, and run quacking like mad, in my direction. The feed I had brought back to the trailer comes in very handy right now. I sprinkle some in the dirt and drive away. Just as I pull out onto the highway, I see Bubba walking from his trailer on his way to work. He is looking at my car as I pass by, and no doubt, wondering where I am going at this early hour of the morning.

  “Say bye-bye to Bubba kids. Bye-bye Bubba!” I wave. The dogs are cocking their heads at me, wondering what I am saying to them. They think I am acting very suspicious.

  The morning is warm and glorious! I make a quick stop at a day use spot to let the dogs out, and walk around for a short time. I watch a lady catch a fish. The creek has slowed down a bit since I last saw it. I suppose it gets down to a trickle by the time summer ends. I ignore the trash I see scattered by the trashcan. Today, someone else can save the planet. Today, I will keep all thoughts positive and all concerns out of my mind, at least until 11:15.

  I drive further down the highway and follow the signs that lead to points of interest. I explore a massive cave made by a lava flow, hike to a waterfall, and drive leisurely down a dirt road that carries me gently through a thick line of impenetrable redwoods where the craziness of the world is momentarily silenced. I stop my car and walk with Bonita and Bandito in reverence and veneration, feeling small and humbled below the whispering branches.

  Later, down another dirt road where pines and junipers prevail, I study trees that have the shape of wild beasts, bent and twisted through time, trees telling me stories of seasons gone by. One tree particularly got my attention enough to get my camera out of the car. The tree was an old juniper that had a story to tell. A child, who is more than likely, old and gray by now, had left his or her bike in the split of two branches of this once young tree. The tree has grown into a giant, and swallowed the abandoned bike. All that remains are two halves of rusted spoke wheels sticking out from either side of the tree, and one tip of a handle bar, ten feet high in the air. How I would love to open up that tree, to slice it open like an onion, and discover how efficient the tree has been to compensate for the twisted metal, now compacted, within its body of rings and grain. The juniper has swallowed and preserved a child’s day of play, a child who carelessly abandoned the bike in the unstoppable pathway of this tree’s life journey.

  My constant guilt over Bonita and Bandito being stuck inside a trailer all day is now alleviated. My hunger for the healing effects of nature is restored. I can now return to the chaos of Hacienda and make it through the day.

  The temperature is rising on a daily basis, and
the inside of a metal trailer is much hotter than the air outside. I turn on the air-conditioner for the dogs, and hope that it does not break until I am gone from this place in September. I leave for work a half hour early and go to the front phone booth to call Lori. I need a good dose of my sister’s love as my final healing treatment. I update her on all my current trials and tribulations. She tells me that the Oregon fires are 80% contained. She will call mom and dad for me, and let them know that I am fine. Lori plans to come see me in mid-July, only a few weeks away.

  It’s Friday. As I walk through the doors of the restaurant, I can feel the momentum of commotion rising. Billy is busy at the register and Bubba is placing a platter of his famous basketball size pancakes on the table of a heavyset Indian with a long black braid down his back. The female companion of the Indian is having ham and eggs.

  “NO ONE’S EVER ATE ALL THESE BEFORE. YA EAT ALL THESE AN YUR BREAKFAST’S ON ME!” Bubba is being loud and obnoxious. The Indian nods his head. I have found that Indian men can be men of little words, yet even without language, they say so very much!

  Bubba and I walk into the kitchen at the same time. He walks over to his coffee cup sitting on the counter, and holds it out in front of my face. “DON’T WASH THIS COFFEE CUP EVER AGAIN! LEAVE IT RIGHT HERE! I HAD IT AGED TO PERFECTION! NOW I HAVE TO START ALL OVER AGAIN!” He gets a black marking pen, and writes BUBBA in big letters across the front of it, and bangs it on a corner shelf. That’s the coffee cup I had seen him drinking out of on his way to work. It took so long to clean! I had to use a Brillo pad to get all the coffee stains out of it. Never heard of an aged coffee cup before. I thought I was being nice. Now that I’ve been served another dish of Bubba’s bullshit, I can begin my day of work.

  Bubba is staying longer than normal. We have no waitress at this point, so I get on with the waiting and serving of tables. At one point, when I am taking an order from a table of three, I look over at the Indian and his girlfriend and see them doing something odd. She is rolling up one of the pancakes as if it were a thick woven rug, while his large body shields her from Bubba’s view. She then stuffs the rolled pancake into her large tote bag. Together, they slyly repeat this process with a second pancake. The Indian has eaten the third large pancake and she has finished her own meal. I’m elated from their deceit and can’t wait to show Bubba the empty plates!