by Alta Hensley
Mrs. Montgomery had Parkinson’s so bad, that bringing a spoon to her lips by herself, usually left her covered in whatever food she ordered. Seeing the poor woman sitting alone in the diner’s booth, shaking and struggling a few weeks back, I had taken it upon myself to help her. It was the least I could do. And the truth of the matter was, I enjoyed it. I liked the lady, and I liked the feeling that I was being of some use to someone in need.
“Just stay long enough for me to get her started. Can you cover me?”
Maria nodded with a tender smile as she went to put her apron back on. “Softie.”
“Yeah, I guess I am,” I said as I reached for a ponytail holder in my pocket and pulled my hair into a messy bun, preparing for another long day on my feet serving greasy food to patrons. Hopefully, I would be busy enough to keep my mind off of the nightmare in which I was imprisoned.
When I walked into the dining room, I went straight to table five where Mrs. Montgomery sat staring ahead. Her short grey hair rested on the top of her shoulders, curled to perfection, with tiny, pearl pins right above her ears. It was still possible to see the remnants of what must have been rich black hair in her youth. In this redneck, piece of shit town in South Carolina, an exotic, mature, beauty such as Vivian Montgomery was a rarity. I had also come to realize that she dressed up for her special lunches each and every time. She treated lunch at Blossoms Diner like someone would treat a meal at a fine dining establishment. She always wore a dress or skirt, shoes with a stubby heel, nude-colored pantyhose, and carried a different purse that matched her outfit each and every time. She never wore garish jewelry, but she would wear a strand of pearls or a necklace made of some type of semi-precious stone. Though her hands were covered in age spots and wrinkles, her nails were always painted a pretty pink or coral, manicured to perfection. It was obvious the woman took pride in her appearance, and wanted to be at her very best, even if it was for lunch in a small local diner.
“Mrs. Montgomery, don’t you look marvelous today,” I said as I placed the Cajun chicken pasta she had already ordered from Maria in front of her shaking hands and sat in the booth opposite to her.
She looked at me with the sweetest eyes and the warmest smile. “You are so kind, dear.” She reached across to touch my hands that rested on the table. I could see she was shaking more than normal. She had told me that, with her Parkinson’s, she had good days and bad days, but by the intensity of the tremors now, I would say she was having a bad day. I noticed the skin around her wrists looked raw and bruised. So, I made a mental note to ask her about it later, but didn’t want to start off the meal by talking about her sickness and injuries due to it. “You look so pretty too.”
I smirked, feeling anything but pretty. I couldn’t remember if I had brushed my hair. The fact that I was even dressed was a feat within itself.
“Don’t give me that look,” she playfully scolded. “When I was your age, I envied women like you. Tall, big blue eyes, long light hair, and the perfect cherub face. Like a doll. You are such a lovely young lady.”
I smiled and shook my head, feeling uncomfortable hearing her kind words. I never handled compliments very well.
“Thank you,” I mumbled as I glanced over at Maria who was taking an order at one of the tables I was supposed to cover myself.
Mrs. Montgomery looked down at her meal and reached for her fork. I always allowed her to start, judging if she needed my help or not. She always did, but I would still watch for a short time to gauge how much. Today she could barely grab the fork, knocking the other silverware to the side as she struggled for the handle of the utensil.
Without asking, I took the fork and poked it into a piece of pasta and chicken. “Why don’t I help you with that?”
She nodded and smiled. Her eyes made contact with mine, and we connected like we had done many times before. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
I fed her the food and returned the smile, poking the pasta for the second bite. “And I don’t know what I would do without you, Mrs. Montgomery. You are the sunshine to my day.”
“I wish you would call me Viv,” she said as she finished the bite of her food. She then took another bite the minute she was done chewing, her entire body quivering lightly as she did so.
“I was taught by my momma to always address my elders in the proper fashion.” I gave her a wink, trying to hide the stab in my heart which occurred by bringing up my mother.
Fuck! Why did I say that? I didn’t want to think about her. I didn’t want to remember a single thing. I just wanted to feed this nice woman and go about my day. One meal, one hour, one minute at a time, and I would survive this day. I had to survive the day my mother would die.
“You must have had a very good momma. She has taught you to be a kind and generous woman.” Mrs. Montgomery continued to eat, opening her mouth in a child-like fashion each time I brought the food to her lips.
A dull ache attacked my head, and a ringing filled my ears. I didn’t want to talk about my momma. No, she was not a good momma. A good momma would not have done what she did. A good momma would not have left her child to fend off the cruel world by herself. A good momma would not die for a cause that did not matter. I did not have a good momma. I did not have a good momma at all.
“But I still wish you would call me Viv. Friends should be on a first name basis; don’t you think?”
Trying to snap out of the spiraling fall from the cliff where I was so precariously balanced, I gave a smirk. “I suppose you are right. We are friends, and we should call each other by our first names. But that goes for you as well then. You call me Demi.” She had only called me ‘dear’ since we first met.
Feeding Viv another bite, I noticed her eyes seemed to glisten as if she were struggling holding back tears. “I don’t have any friends,” she said.
“Oh, I’m sure you have friends.”
She shook her head. “No.”
I placed the fork down on the plate, reached for her glass of water, and helped her drink from it. “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Other than Maria who works here, I don’t have any friends either. I pretty much keep to myself.” I picked up the fork and once again stabbed at a piece of spiced chicken. “And the truth is, I often am suspicious of people who have lots and lots of friends. I mean, how can you be best friends with everyone? I think it’s impossible. There’s only so much of your heart you can give. I would much rather give more of me—the real me—to those select and special people than just a little of me to a large group simply so I can say I have a lot of friends.”
Viv turned her head to look at Maria who was behind the counter getting drinks ready. “And Maria is your friend?” she asked.
“Yes. She’s really nice and fun to work with. She has a new baby who is just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. We both don’t have any family around, so we spend the holidays together… so, I guess you could say we are more than friends.”
She looked surprised. “No family?”
I shook my head, hoping to God she would drop the subject. I was not going to go into my awful situation with her or anyone. “No.”
“And you don’t have a special person in your life?” she asked as she reached for her napkin to wipe at some white cream sauce that stuck to the corner of her lip. Her hand shook the entire time, but she had managed to do it herself.
I shrugged. “Not interested in having a someone special right now.”
“Why?”
I didn’t usually like talking about myself to anyone, but this little old lady and I had spent many hours chatting as I fed her. I felt comfortable talking to her which was odd, but, at the same time, I liked it.
“All the good ones are taken, I guess.” It was a canned answer, and one I really didn’t mean. I had found it was a sufficient answer to give when people asked why you weren’t in a relationship. It was a much better answer than ‘I’m too fucked up to be with anyone.’
“Oh, I do
n’t think so. You should meet my son. He’s a good one. I raised him well.” She smiled wide, intensifying the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes as her entire face seemed to light up. “But I could be biased since I am his momma.”
“I didn’t realize you had a son. You never mentioned him before.” I had always gotten the impression Viv Montgomery was a widow and all alone. She had mentioned once that her husband had passed away many years ago, but that had been the only mention of family.
“I do. He’s a handsome boy. He looks like his father did at his age. Thick black hair, hypnotizing brown eyes, firm jawline, muscular build. His Korean blood gives him a rich caramel-colored skin.” She giggled. “Can you tell I am a proud mother? Yes, he looks just like his handsome father. My husband always had that powerful hold of my heart. Do you know what I’m talking about? That crazed, all-consuming love you can’t live without.” She paused, and a look of sadness washed over her face, but then was quickly replaced with a tender smile. “My son reminds me of him so much. Anyway, he’s picking me up after my lunch today.”
I tilted my head and studied her expression. I saw so much love and pride on her face. But if she truly loved and adored her son so much, why had she not mentioned him before? “I thought you took the bus here and home.”
“I used to. But my son told me that, from now on, he would be driving me to the places I needed to go. Such a kind boy.”
“Does he live here in town?” I still found it odd Viv had never mentioned him before, and he was just now stepping in to care for her by providing transportation. I couldn’t quite silence the warning bells going off in my head.
“Yes. He lives with me for now. He just returned, and it will take him a bit to get on his feet. But I’m in no rush for him to move out. I like having him around.”
Ahh, a deadbeat son taking advantage of his mother is what this sounded like.
“What does he do for a living?”
“He’s a pilot. He’s loved planes from the time he could barely walk.”
“You said he just returned. From where?”
Maybe I was being too nosy. But I heard the stories all the time of lazy and greedy family members taking advantage of their elders. I had no knowledge of Viv’s financial situation other than the fact that she always paid in cash and would leave a very large tip. Sometimes too large, and she and I would argue about her overpaying me, but she always won out. I hated to think that her own flesh and blood could use her, or that anyone could take advantage of an elder, but I still found it a bit disturbing he was just now popping into her life. She had been coming here for months, me feeding her for an hour on those days, and not once did she mention any family at all.
Viv shifted in her seat, appearing uncomfortable. She didn’t say anything, but rather opened her mouth to take another bite. I had overstepped it seemed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry. I’ll mind my own business from now on.”
Viv finished her bite. “Oh no. I don’t mind. It’s just hard to answer that question. I always worry he’ll be judged and thought poorly of. He’s such a decent and fine man, that it’s a shame he has this mark on his past.” She took a deep breath and continued chewing the food in her mouth.
Feeling guilty for doing exactly that—judging, I said, “Well, I’m the last person who has any business judging people. And we all have marks in our pasts. Some more than others.”
Her tiny, frail body leaned inward. Lowering her voice, she asked, “You promise you won’t think badly of him? He is such a good man. I would hate for you to think otherwise.”
“If you say he is a good man, then I’ll believe you.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “I can’t imagine you raising anyone but a fine, upstanding man anyway.”
“He just got out of prison,” she blurted, looking terrified the minute she said the words.
The word ‘prison’ hit too close to home, and I instantly felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to think of prison. I didn’t want to think…
“But he didn’t do it!” she said in a hushed, yet aggressive tone. “He would never do the things they said. A man like my son would never kill a girl. They had it all wrong when they said he was guilty.”
Prison.
Kill.
Guilty.
I couldn’t cope. I couldn’t hear these dark words that followed me wherever I went. Not today. Not today!
I put down the fork. “I really need to get to work, Mrs. Montgomery. Maria is covering for me, but she really needs to get home to her baby.”
Viv reached out a shaky hand to me. “Oh no. Please tell me I didn’t scare you off with the news of my son. Please. I can see I have upset you. He was found guilty of manslaughter, not murder, but I swear to you, he didn’t do it. And I feel awful now. I can see you are uncomfortable.” She appeared to be broken-hearted, and I had never seen her so upset before.
“It’s not that… I have a lot to deal with today.” I struggled to hold back the tears threatening to fall. “It’s not a very good day for me is all.” I took her trembling hand and held it firmly. I wanted to reassure her that my demons were not due to her or the news of her son. My demons only needed the slightest push to be knocking at my door once again.
“I worry you are going to get up from here thinking my son is a bad person.” Her lower lip began to quiver. “And he isn’t. He really isn’t.”
I nodded and squeezed her hand again, not wanting my own morose thoughts to upset the woman. “I believe you, Viv. I do. I’m glad you have your son back.” And I meant it. I’d always hated the thought of her having to deal with her illness all by herself. Now that her son was home, she wouldn’t be alone. I scooted out of the booth and stood. “Bring him in next time, and I’ll give him a free piece of Blossoms’ famous cherry pie.”
Her lip ceased trembling, a warm smile to replace it. “Oh I will. He would love that. You are such a kind girl. He will just adore you.”
“Okay, well I really need to get to work,” I said. “Are you coming in Tuesday?”
She nodded. “Of course.” She clutched her hands together to her chest. “I can’t wait for you two to meet. I promise you will see what a wonderful boy he is. He may be a bit of a momma’s boy, but he is such a good, good boy.”
3
I was in dire need of a cigarette. My body wasn’t asking, but rather demanding I fill my lungs with the sweet and toxic smoke of nicotine. I shouldn’t have stopped at the mini mart on the way to work, but I couldn’t resist. I needed the security blanket. My intent wasn’t really to smoke them… hell, who was I kidding? I damn well planned on smoking them. But fuck, out of all days, I would say I had a damn good excuse for cheating just this once. Knowing deep down I should simply ignore the craving and just relieve Maria so she could go home, I walked over to my friend, about to ask for another favor instead.
“I hate to ask you this,” I began in a low voice by her ear. “Can you give me a couple of minutes to go smoke before you leave?” I hated myself for caving to my addiction, but I knew if I didn’t get a smoke, I was going to snap at some poor unsuspecting customer.
Surprised, she looked up at me. “I thought you quit a few weeks ago.”
“I did.” I shrugged, feeling the shame of my nasty habit.
With skepticism in her eyes, she asked, “Are you sure everything is all right? You really don’t seem yourself today.” Maria knew how hard I had worked on quitting smoking, so this was a dead giveaway all was not well in the Demi Wayne world.
“I just got some bad news last night. But I really don’t want to talk about it. At least not right now.”
“Demi…”
“Please, I can’t get into it here. I just need a little time to get my shit together. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
Was that a lie? I really wasn’t sure. I was still walking. I was still going about my day. I was still breathing. So, I must be fine. Wasn’t I?
She nodded. “Go ahead. I got this covered. T
ake as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I won’t be long.”
I rushed out the back door and headed to the rear parking lot as I reached into the pocket of my apron like a junkie with shaky hands. By placing the pack of cigarettes and lighter in my apron before starting my shift, I had definitely set myself up for failure, since it was like a beacon leading me to the light. But my destiny to fuck up my nicotine-free life happened the minute the phone rang last night.
Correction.
It all started the minute my mother decided to kill those five innocent men, casting me into a fucked up nightmare.
Swallowing back my nausea, I came up with a plan. I was going to stand there, smoke, and not allow my mind to go to the dark place it wanted to go. It was 1:50. My mother would be alive for only ten minutes longer. She had ten minutes left to breathe the air on this earth as I stood in a parking lot behind an old local diner in a small deadbeat town polluting my own air. Fuck! Taking a deep drag, I silently cursed for allowing myself to think those thoughts. The only way I would survive this day was to go numb. I needed to go fucking numb!
Should I have been there? Should I have rushed to her side? But for what? To watch her die? I hadn’t even visited her in jail once since the day we heard the words ‘guilty.’ I refused. For the first couple of years, I wouldn’t even speak to her, or open her letters. I hated the woman who gave birth to me. I would never forgive her for choosing a stupid cause over her own daughter. I would never forgive her for loving a man who chose death over family. A man who I was forced to learn about on television. I would never forgive my mother. Never. But should I have made an exception today? Should I have been there?
Smoke. Just smoke. Nothing else. Mindless. Think of nothing.
I was losing my damn mind.
“Oh, dear. You should not be smoking. Those things are so bad for you,” Viv Montgomery said as she walked up to me with a disapproving look. I hadn’t seen her approaching me, or I would have tried to conceal the cigarette. I really didn’t like anyone seeing me smoke.