Lee flushed, embarrassed and angered at the same time. “No. I'm between insurance policies at the moment.”
The doctor stiffened and backed away from the table. “Well, you'll need to pay before you leave today. The receptionist shouldn't have let you in without insurance.” She slammed the file shut and headed towards the door. “We'll have to put you on a payment plan if you can't pay. Having a baby's expensive.” She was in the doorway. “Good luck to you.”
Lee dressed, marched past the receptionist and burst onto the porch, clutching the ultrasound picture between sweaty fingers. She shook with anger and shame, knowing she wouldn't be able to pay the bill today or anytime soon. She wanted to weep, but pushed the feelings down as she stepped onto the porch. Ellen was nowhere to be seen but Tommy sat on the steps reading a collection of Eudora Welty short stories. He jumped up and crossed to her. Behind him, Verle slept in the porch swing on the clinic's rustic front deck. “Everything okay?”
“The baby's fine except I don't know how I'm going to pay for it.”
He didn't comment, simply waved his hand down the road. “Ellen will be right back. She went to the grocery store. Said something about getting you some decent food.” He looked at her hand. “Ultrasound picture?”
“Yeah.” She glanced through the window at the reception desk, walking down the steps to his truck. “Can we get out of here?”
“Sure thing.” He peered at her in that way of his that made her feel like she was under the magic goop and wand of the ultrasound machine, like he could see every part of her, in formation.
Tommy nudged Verle. “C'mon Verle. Time to wake up.”
Chapter Thirteen
The restaurant was empty, except for several regular customers chasing greasy food with sips of beer. The band didn't play during the week and without them the restaurant had the desolate feel of a beach resort town the week after Labor Day. The weather had turned hot overnight on the second day of May. Lee, warm from pregnancy hormones, wore a sleeveless blouse made of stretch material, which she realized after she left home, clung to her. She dropped a beer at the table of a young logger and felt his eyes linger at her breasts. She flipped the serving tray to cover her front section and glared at him with what she knew to be her coldest look. This was her fourth week at the restaurant and the leering and innuendoes were as tiresome as they were her first shift.
She returned to the counter and wiped the sticky layer of cola syrup stuck in the crevice behind the soda machine. As she worked, she thought about her plan for the restaurant, the beginning of a vision nestling near the surface of her mind. Over the last several days, for reasons she wasn't clear, she felt a twinge of her former interest and energy for life, vowing to have the business plan in Mike's hands at the beginning of her fifth week at the restaurant. She understood her own strengths, how her brain worked to dissect and reassemble all the elements of something into a new form, like a pile of toddler's blocks made into a tower. Unlike the other parts of her life - the baby, the fear of DeAngelo creeping into every moment - she was at ease with the process of creation, even as her current situation was dire.
After four weeks of shifts, she had made a total of two hundred and fifty-three dollars in tips plus minimum wage, the total of which covered her utility bills, gas for her car, the minimum of groceries and no extras. And she didn't even have a house payment.
Deana, the other waitress on shift, sat with Zac at his regular table. She had a barrel chest, wide shoulders, tummy fat that hung over her tight pants and legs so skinny Lee wondered how they held her stout body. There were two empty beer glasses, a newspaper and a plate of fries on the table between them. Deana ate fries, one or two at a time, dunking them in ranch dressing before reaching out with her tongue to pull them into her mouth. The way she held the fries in her hands, shifting her eyes to the left in a way that looked guilty or sly, reminded Lee of a squirrel.
Zac read the paper, frowning and drumming his fingers on the plastic surface of the table. Without raising his head, he motioned to Lee to bring another round of beer by snapping his fingers and pointing to the empty pitcher. She filled a large plastic pitcher with the amber colored microbrew, the yeasty smell turning her stomach. As Lee neared the table, Deana, got up, straddled Zac, and tented the newspaper over their heads. A raspy cigarette laugh floated from underneath the paper as Lee poured them each a glass of beer. Zac's head poked out from under the newspaper. “Lee, it's too slow for both of you to be on shift, so Deana's taking the night off.”
From underneath the newspaper, Deana laughed. “I have other things to do.” Zac's head disappeared once again under the paper.
“No problem.” Lee gritted her teeth and set the pitcher on the table, drops of foam landing on the plastic table.
The paper came down and Deana took a big drink of beer, smacking her lips. Foam lingered above her mouth and she wiped it with the back of her arm.
Lee averted her eyes, soaking up spilled beer with a spare napkin. “You guys want food?”
Zac folded the newspaper and shoved it towards Lee. “Nachos. Extra jalapeños. Take this piece of shit paper with you.”
Billy was at the stove in the kitchen taking the temperature of the hot oil in his fryer. Lee said hello and asked for a plate of nachos for Zac. She threw the newspaper into the recycle bin, reading the headline on the front page. “Local Sheriff Needs Funds for Drug War.” The caption under a picture of the sheriff read. “Newly elected sheriff says budget too small to battle drug crisis.”
She opened the back door and breathed in the early evening air while Billy made the nachos. A quarter moon showed in the blue sky above the mountain. “What's the deal with Deana?”
“I think she's on something.”
“You think she's high here at work?”
“I guess so. All I know is she used to be kind of nice before she started working here. She's all messed up now.” He placed a plate of nachos covered with slices of jalapeños peppers on the pick-up counter.
Lee put her hand on the plate and looked at Billy. “Is this what he means by extra jalapeños?”
Billy looked at her, deadpan and shrugged his shoulders. “He always sends them back, says there aren't enough peppers, so thought I'd give him what he wants.”
Lee smiled, picking up the plate. “I should talk you out of this but I'm weak.”
Billy laughed, and sprinkled a couple more over the top. “It's my funeral.”
Back at the table, half the pitcher gone, Deana sat in a chair across from a gaunt man with a nervous twitch fiddling with a matchbook. Zac sat with his legs crossed in the style of a country gentleman. Lee placed the nachos in the middle of the table. Zac looked at the plate, sat up, glaring at Lee. “This a joke?”
Lee widened her eyes. “Something wrong?”
“Tell Billy to get his ass out here so I can fire him.” His words slurred and he shoved the plate across the table. As fast as a lizard's tongue after a fly, the twitchy man flung his arm out and caught the plate mere centimeters from the edge of the table.
Deana caressed Zac's arm, her eyes bloodshot slits, her voice a low scratch with traces of phlegm. “Don't worry about it, baby. He's just a dumbass who doesn't know what extra means. Lee'll take it back and get a new one.”
Zac shoved her arm aside and the drunk, unsteady force knocked her off the chair and onto the floor. She popped up, lunging towards Zac. Obscenities streamed from her mouth as she pushed him off his chair.
They wrestled on the dirty floor until one of the male customers lifted Deana off Zac, holding her next his chest. She punched and kicked the air, hair askew and jeans unzipped. The man hauled her out the front door of the restaurant. His friend put Zac back in his chair, with a hand on his chest. “Just chill out, dude.” Zac tossed his head and said, “Yeah, man. It's all good.” The twitchy man laughed in an high pitched squeal before slapping the table and walking out the front door.
Lee stood in the middle of the restaurant, tr
ay clutched to her chest, overwhelmed with the feeling that she was in a foreign land with no direction, no map with which to find her way back to her real life.
Zac looked at her and motioned her over to his table. “Lee, come over here and keep me company.”
“I have work to do.”
“Oh, come on, we should be friends.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes in slits. “We should be friends, like the old days.”
She stood next to the table. “We were never friends.”
He slapped the table and pushed a chair out with his foot. “C'mon now, that isn't true. All the girls loved me back then.”
She placed her hands on the back of the chair. “Do you want something to eat?”
“Nah, I got beer here, that's all I need. I was thinking about you though, Lee.” He leaned back in his chair and looked at her, eyelids half-closed. “Yeah, I was thinking about you and thinking how we should be friends. I'm leaving soon and we should be friends, y'know. Friends are good to have, don't you think?”
“I'm going to bring you some of the white fett you like, okay?”
“Yeah, Billy always makes me that, good ol' Billy. He's a good kid.” He looked at Lee and grinned. “Do you remember Lindsey, from high school? I ever tell you I married her?”
“I think you mentioned that, yes. You stay here and I'm going to get Billy to make you some dinner.”
He nodded and waved his hand towards the kitchen. “I'll stay right here, but you have to promise to come back so I can tell you about Lindsey, how she ran off with a girl. Yeah, she turned out to like girls, can you believe that?”
She left him at the table and went into the kitchen to order the food for Zac. After giving Billy the order, she went to the locker area, sat on the bench and tried to stop shaking. Zac's drunkenness pushed her to the dark automatic mode of caretaking and cajoling that she used with her mother. It made her feel out of control and hopeless and scared. She put her head between her legs and breathed in and out, telling herself that he was nothing to her and that it wasn't her fault he was drunk and that it didn't matter if he was, that he couldn't hurt her, until the panic subsided. She went back to Billy and picked up the Fettuccini, pretending everything was fine.
When she got back out to the table Zac was talking to the man who carried Deana out of the restaurant. Lee put the food in front of him and went to her post at the counter, trying to ignore his loud, drunk voice, but it was impossible. “Yeah, my wife Lindsey, she took up with some chick from Klamath Falls. Just up and left me for a fucking chick.” The man nodded and helped himself to more beer from Zac's pitcher. “She was the love of my life, man, and she left. Women, they all leave, y'know after a while. My mother left because of this place, she was a classy lady and didn't want to live in this piece of shit town. She lives in Florida now and I asked her if I could stay with her for awhile when I move down there and she said no. She's such a fucking mother of the year. I went there when I was in high school and I should've stayed ‘cause I loved it. The beach was so rad and anyway, I'm going back there soon. Gonna buy a place, a better place than my mother's and then I can say fuck you anytime I want. She sent me back here ‘cause of some guy she thought was gonna marry her and then he dumped her anyway.” The man nodded his head like he was listening, but his eyes were unfocused, giving Lee the impression he'd heard the story before. She was relieved when she saw Tommy come through the front door. He waved to her and came over to where she stood at the counter. His eyes were lazy instead of the intense focus they had the day her porch burned. “You missed the Jerry Springer moment,” she said.
“I heard Deana yelling about it in the parking lot. I've seen enough scuffles in here to last a lifetime.”
“Did Deana go?”
“Looks like she left with her skeleton friend, vowing never to set foot in here again, along with an impolite gesture to Zac. But, they had a similar thing a couple of weeks ago, so I doubt we're so lucky to be rid of her.”
“Billy says it's drugs.”
Tommy sighed and wiped spilled salt from the counter. “That's what I hear.” He leaned against the counter. “But, enough about her, I actually came by to see how you're feeling.”
“Fine.” Lee wiped the spotless counter with a wet towel and avoided his eyes.
“No more coughing?”
“Right.”
“Quiet in here tonight.”
She looked up at him. “It's always like this unless you guys are playing.”
He grinned. “That's good for us, I guess. This mean you'll keep us around even if you change the place?”
“That why you came by? To see if you've still got a job?” She meant it to be a tease, but it came out as an accusation.
“No, I came by to see you.” His smile was gone and the way his eyes glittered she knew she'd hurt his feelings. “Matter of fact, I don't know what you've concluded about me, but I don't need this gig. I do it because I like Mike.”
“I didn't realize there were so many venues in which to play in this thriving metropolis.”
“It might serve you better to withhold judgment about a person until you know more about them.” He gazed at her for a moment. “I guess I'll see you around.” He walked out, without looking back.
Lee sat cross-legged outside the backdoor of the restaurant, hidden behind the stairs, Billy's version of a chef salad on her lap. She watched streaks of orange and pink across the sky as the sun set behind the mountain, picking through the strips of American cheese and cubes of processed turkey to find the least limp piece of lettuce. She breathed in the sweet spring air and ran over the conversation with Tommy in her head. There was an undeniable energy between them, but he propelled toward the attraction with the light-heartedness of the unscathed, and she fought it with the intensity of the walking wounded. On the surface he seemed the type of man all women wanted, sensitive, strong, someone to take care of you. But she knew there was no such thing as Prince Charming, especially for a pregnant Cinderella. She'd believed in all that once. But now she was a grown woman and could not allow, even under the current circumstances, to believe in a savior. Because underneath Tommy's sensitive eyes, and caring attitude, even his heart wrenching talent, was something hidden, some kernel of weakness, or meanness or hardness, with which her life could be unraveled. If her mother, the last five years with Dan and the shocking revelation of the last few months had taught her anything, it was that life was like Dan's games. Not only were there random occurrences of bad or good luck, but often obstacles from people you loved that seemingly came from nowhere.
She knew she'd hurt Tommy's feelings tonight and probably turned him off her forever, which was good in the long run. Still, after he walked away she felt more alone than ever. She flicked her hair and chided herself. Dan died three months ago and she was thinking about a man she'd known for a month.
The sun did its final descent behind the mountain and only the orange shadow remained in the evening sky. She heard voices behind the trash bin and the flick of a cigarette lighter. The back door thudded open and then there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She looked over to see Zac strut across the parking lot, pulling a sandwich bag out of his pants pocket and disappearing behind the wooden structure that stored the trash bins. There were muted mumblings and then Zac's voice as he came into view. “Tell him to text me. I've got some of the stuff he likes.” Two young men came out from behind the dumpster. They had identical hollow cheeks and starved eyes and skin that stretched across jutted wrist and arm bones outside of the sleeves of their t-shirts. They were like freakish twin brothers in a circus. Except one was short and one tall. They darted their heads around the parking lot before shuffling to a beat up truck parked near the alley, jumping in and speeding onto the street.
Lee held her breath until she heard Zac run up the stairs and close the door.
The bastard was dealing drugs.
Chapter Fourteen
The next day began overcast, but by mid-morning
the spring clouds broke and sun streamed into her backyard. She knelt in the wet dirt, pulling weeds and dropping them into a plastic bucket. Too poor to get her hair cut since leaving Seattle, and the pregnancy hormones speeding the growth, her hair was long enough that she wore it in a ponytail to keep it out of her eyes. As she worked the ponytail kept sliding to one side of her neck. It was pleasurable, the way it tickled her skin. Lord, I'm turning into nature mama, she thought, smiling. As her fingers dug the spring weeds from the dark soil, she was reminded of the life giving properties of this land. Beautiful things sprouted from within this mineral rich dirt. She thought of Ellen's garden, the food that grew from the tiny seeds planted each spring. She stopped her work for a moment, noting at least four shades of green in the leaves of the hydrangea plant. She looked around the yard. As a child, the simple beauty of the hydrangeas, rhododendrons, the twin dogwood trees, the crab apple trees, all planted by her grandmother before she was born, had nourished her soul with their beauty and inspired her to be a painter. She breathed the scent of the soil, the sun warm on her back, and thought how the landscape ran through her still, even after all the moments in between the last time she plucked weeds from this flower patch and now.
There were footsteps and a knock on the fence. She straightened, shaking the dirt from her hands, seeing the top of Tommy's head above the top of the gate. She opened it, saying hello. He backed away as the gate swung towards him and then stepped towards her and for a moment Lee felt he might move to hug her but then he stopped just inside, resting his shoulder on the frame. He gave a wry smile that seemed wrong on his face, so different from his usual grin that rearranged his features into a series of attractive lines and angles. “Hey, Lee.”
Her stomach fluttered at the sight of him leaning on the fence, his hair moving slightly in the breeze, dressed in jeans that clung to his muscular legs and a white t-shirt that draped his slim torso. She had the urge to run her fingers inside the waist of his pants, to feel what his stomach felt like next to her skin. She swallowed and moved her eyes to his face, gesturing for him to come into the yard.
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