Waitress

I love Tuesdays. On Tuesdays, Daniel takes me dancing, and we always get malts afterwards. Although, one time last week, we stayed out dancing far too late and the soda shop was closed. Daniel really tried to pry the door open— we can just get the machine running and make our own!— and I was laughing so hard my sides hurt. Eventually he quit when a police car drove by and I grabbed his arm quickly to pull him away. It started raining and we kissed in an alley as we hid from the policeman— that was a lovely Tuesday. It’s Sunday now, so we’ll go dancing in two days. We’ll have to make sure to leave in time for malts; I can’t afford to lose Daniel to jail for breaking and entering! He’s awfully smart and he’s going places. I love him so much. 

I used to be a waitress. It was truly fun at times: people would tip you if you laughed at their jokes, and the regulars would get to know you and your life. Other times it was bad, like when a man got too drunk and thought you were the one he was angry at. Mr. Bentley would kick those men out, but one time he wasn’t fast enough and I got a big old shiner on my left eye. You can still see it in the right light. 

I’m too young to be married, but I said yes anyway. If you’re in love, why wait? Daniel is a shop attendant and makes hardly any money at all, so for now I’m working as a maid at a little motel down the road. Daniel wakes up an hour early just so he can drop me off, and he waits around for an hour just to pick me up again. He really loves me— I’m so happy that I found him. 

It’s getting late— I need to pick the kids up from school. I get so worried when they want to ride their bikes home; it’s just not safe and it gets so dark in the wintertime. Where is the car? Daniel should have left it for me to pick the kids up. Oh my, are they going to be okay? Maybe I should call the school. Or Daniel. I hope they’re okay. 

I used to be a waitress. It was a good little cafe. One time a man punched my face when he was drunk and Mr. Bentley was in the back. You can still see it; it’s on my left eye. 

My Daniel is so wonderful. He’s been gone all day— I wonder when he’ll get off work. I’m staying in this hotel tonight, and I don’t know if anyone told him. I hope he finds me. I don’t like to sleep without him. We’ve been married so long it just isn’t right to sleep alone in the bed. And this isn’t even my bed— it’s too small and it has this hideous comforter on the top. Now who in the world would pick that for their hotel? It’s not my business, but really. 

I turn on the television to wait for Daniel to get home from work. There’s so much trash on TV these days— why is everything so fast and loud and colorful? Everyone seems so angry all the time on the television; I wish they would just be quiet and happy. I click through the channels and find a cooking show. They’re competing, I think— making ice cream. I love ice cream. I had some today for dessert at lunch, and it was so delicious: chocolate, I think. It’s Daniel’s favorite too. I used to be a waitress— we made really good ice cream at the cafe. I got a bruise on my left eye there, but it was a good job. Sometimes you got tips and the regulars were so nice. 

Mother never let me get an ice cream cone. She said it was too much money and too much sugar. It wasn’t fair! She always bought my sister Janey an ice cream just because she had polio and Mother felt bad about it. I hate being the youngest. When I grow up, I want to find a man who always buys me ice cream. I will marry that man and I will love him more than I love Mother. 

“Miss Elsie?” Some girl is in my room. I sit up, and my whole body hurts for some reason. 

“Ouch…” Is this my bed? Why am I here? It is comfortable. Maybe Daniel picked it. I’m so silly, sitting up in bed when it’s dark. I lay back down. 

“Miss Elsie?” Some girl is in my room. I sit up. Everything hurts. 

“What?” Where did she come from? Wait— is this my room? I didn’t buy that comforter— it’s so ugly. Who would pick that out? 

“Miss Elsie, it’s time for breakfast. Do you want some help getting dressed for the day? Your grandson brought by this lovely lavender sweater for you yesterday, maybe we can match that with your gray slacks?” Why is she talking so loud in the middle of the night? I wish she would just hush— I don’t mean to be rude, but it is dark and this is my room, after all. Although, that blanket is so ugly… did I pick that? Where is Daniel? 

“Miss Elsie… breakfast?” 

“Breakfast. Hmm.” Does she want me to feed her? Oh—

“I used to be a waitress. We served breakfast.” The girl smiles and tells me, 

“I know, Miss Elsie! And that stupid drunk gave you a black eye—”

“In my left eye…” How did she know? I bet you can still see it. Maybe Daniel can pick me up some concealer while he waits for me to get off work. Oh wait— what day is it? I’ll need to pick the kids up from school. I hate when they want to bike home; it’s just not safe.