onto each plate, and then pulled biscuits out of the oven. This was a far cry from cold, soggy toast.
“What are you girls up to today?” Donna asked, as though nothing had happened last night.
“Work. Fay’s going to get a job with me at the restaurant.”
Donna nodded and pointed her spatula at me. “Don’t let that woman scare you off.”
Celia laughed. “Mom. Heidi’s harmless.”
“She isn’t. She’s a scary old lady if I ever met one.”
Uncle Todd chuckled, and then looked at me, chewing thoughtfully. “It’ll do you some good to work.”
It may be true that it does anybody good to work, but I didn’t like the way he said it. It felt like he was insinuating I didn’t know what hard work was. I nodded into my plate, letting it go.
Maybe he realized he’d hurt my feelings, because then he said, “Hey, I have a few extra minutes before I have to get to work. Anybody want to toss the Frisbee?”
Before I could say yes, Celia said, “Dad, that’s boring. And anyway, we don’t have time. We have to get ready for work.”
“Boring, huh? How about you, Abe, is Frisbee boring to you?”
“No sir. Let’s go do it!” Abe shoved the rest of his biscuit in his mouth and jumped up to dig through the hall closet to find the Frisbee.
After breakfast, I got dressed, taking extra care to look responsible. “Shorts aren’t professional, are they, Celia?”
“I promise, Heidi isn’t going to care what you wear. I’m wearing shorts. It’s too hot for jeans.”
I went with the shorts, though I still felt weird about it. We left through the front door, Celia shutting it quietly behind us.
“Wait, we didn’t tell anyone good-bye.”
“And we’re not going to. Mom didn’t tell Dad about last night, and now that he’s in the back yard with Abe, she might feel like lecturing me again.”
“Oh.” Time for a subject change. “Well, thanks for getting me this job. Do you really think it’ll be okay? I’ve never even met Heidi. I should have worn the skirt.”
Celia reached out and put her hand in my elbow. “Try to relax. Take some deep breaths or something—you’re stressing out for no reason. Heidi told me it was fine. We don’t have a dish washer right now, so she has to wash them herself, and she’d rather sit on her ass and smoke fifty cigarettes in a row than do any work.”
Walking to Heidi’s Restaurant made me feel like I lived in a city more than living in an actual city did. In Perry, I couldn’t walk anywhere from my house. My neighborhood was situated west of town, and it would have been much too far to walk or bike into the city center. I had an aging learner’s permit, but my parents already told me they wouldn’t help me buy a car. They bought me very little in the way of non-necessities, ascribing to a minimalistic approach to life, as well as to the idea that kids need to earn their stuff in order to appreciate it. I figured I could use my time here to add to my car fund.
The Youngs were a one-car family. Uncle Todd took the car to work, and he worked long hours. So we walked. Juniper had good sidewalks though, and their house was right in town. Nothing was farther than a fifteen minute walk away.
We turned onto Market Street, and my eyes drifted to a pale blue house with a wide front porch, where a boy sat atop an up-ended five gallon bucket. He held a length of wood, the sandpaper making a chh chh sound as he smoothed it. We neared his house, and I watched his hands move rhythmically against the board, sawdust floating to the porch floor and dusting the tops of his bare feet.
“Who’s the lumberjack?” I whispered to Celia.
“Ignore him. Don’t even look at him,” she said, which of course meant I looked at him again immediately. Just a quick glance, enough to take note of his messy brown hair, sawdust covered jeans, and lack of a shirt. He had thick stubble on his face,
“What are you girls up to today?” Donna asked, as though nothing had happened last night.
“Work. Fay’s going to get a job with me at the restaurant.”
Donna nodded and pointed her spatula at me. “Don’t let that woman scare you off.”
Celia laughed. “Mom. Heidi’s harmless.”
“She isn’t. She’s a scary old lady if I ever met one.”
Uncle Todd chuckled, and then looked at me, chewing thoughtfully. “It’ll do you some good to work.”
It may be true that it does anybody good to work, but I didn’t like the way he said it. It felt like he was insinuating I didn’t know what hard work was. I nodded into my plate, letting it go.
Maybe he realized he’d hurt my feelings, because then he said, “Hey, I have a few extra minutes before I have to get to work. Anybody want to toss the Frisbee?”
Before I could say yes, Celia said, “Dad, that’s boring. And anyway, we don’t have time. We have to get ready for work.”
“Boring, huh? How about you, Abe, is Frisbee boring to you?”
“No sir. Let’s go do it!” Abe shoved the rest of his biscuit in his mouth and jumped up to dig through the hall closet to find the Frisbee.
After breakfast, I got dressed, taking extra care to look responsible. “Shorts aren’t professional, are they, Celia?”
“I promise, Heidi isn’t going to care what you wear. I’m wearing shorts. It’s too hot for jeans.”
I went with the shorts, though I still felt weird about it. We left through the front door, Celia shutting it quietly behind us.
“Wait, we didn’t tell anyone good-bye.”
“And we’re not going to. Mom didn’t tell Dad about last night, and now that he’s in the back yard with Abe, she might feel like lecturing me again.”
“Oh.” Time for a subject change. “Well, thanks for getting me this job. Do you really think it’ll be okay? I’ve never even met Heidi. I should have worn the skirt.”
Celia reached out and put her hand in my elbow. “Try to relax. Take some deep breaths or something—you’re stressing out for no reason. Heidi told me it was fine. We don’t have a dish washer right now, so she has to wash them herself, and she’d rather sit on her ass and smoke fifty cigarettes in a row than do any work.”
Walking to Heidi’s Restaurant made me feel like I lived in a city more than living in an actual city did. In Perry, I couldn’t walk anywhere from my house. My neighborhood was situated west of town, and it would have been much too far to walk or bike into the city center. I had an aging learner’s permit, but my parents already told me they wouldn’t help me buy a car. They bought me very little in the way of non-necessities, ascribing to a minimalistic approach to life, as well as to the idea that kids need to earn their stuff in order to appreciate it. I figured I could use my time here to add to my car fund.
The Youngs were a one-car family. Uncle Todd took the car to work, and he worked long hours. So we walked. Juniper had good sidewalks though, and their house was right in town. Nothing was farther than a fifteen minute walk away.
We turned onto Market Street, and my eyes drifted to a pale blue house with a wide front porch, where a boy sat atop an up-ended five gallon bucket. He held a length of wood, the sandpaper making a chh chh sound as he smoothed it. We neared his house, and I watched his hands move rhythmically against the board, sawdust floating to the porch floor and dusting the tops of his bare feet.
“Who’s the lumberjack?” I whispered to Celia.
“Ignore him. Don’t even look at him,” she said, which of course meant I looked at him again immediately. Just a quick glance, enough to take note of his messy brown hair, sawdust covered jeans, and lack of a shirt. He had thick stubble on his face,