The Gift (9 page)

“Going to Chicago, miss?” the driver asked, as she sat down, feeling suddenly grown up, and very independent.

“Maybe,” she said with a smile. She could go anywhere, and do anything. She was free. She answered to no one now, except herself, fettered only by the baby growing inside her. She was three and a half months pregnant now, and nothing showed, but she could feel her body growing. She began thinking about what she would tell people wherever she arrived. She'd have to explain how she got there, and why she'd come, and why she was alone, once they discovered she was pregnant. She would have to get a job. There wasn't much she could do. But she could clean house, work in a library, baby-sit, maybe work as a waitress. She was willing to do almost anything as long as she was safe. And until she found a job, she still had the money her father had given her for the convent.

They stopped in Omaha that afternoon. It was hot, but there was a slight breeze, and she felt a little sick from the long ride on the bus, but she felt better after she ate a sandwich. Other people got on and off, and most of them seemed to ride from one town to the next. She had been on the longest when they stopped that night in a picturesque little town that looked clean and pretty. It was a college town, and there were lots of young people in the restaurant where they stopped for dinner. It reminded Maribeth a little bit of a diner, but it was nicer than that, and the woman who waited on her had a dark well-tended pageboy, and a big smile as she served Maribeth a cheeseburger and a milkshake. The hamburger was great, and the check was small, and there seemed to be a lot of laughter and good spirits coming from several of the other tables. It seemed like a happy place, and Maribeth was reluctant to leave and go back to the bus, but they were riding straight through en route to Chicago. As she left the restaurant, she saw it. A small sign in the window offering work to waitresses and bus-boys. She looked at it for a minute, and then walked slowly back, wondering if they'd think she was crazy, or if they'd believe whatever story she invented.

The same waitress who had waited on her looked up at her with a smile, wondering if she'd forgotten something. Maribeth seemed to be hesitating as she stood there and waited.

“I was wondering if … I … I saw the sign … I was wondering about the job. I mean …”

“You mean you want work,” the other woman smiled. “No shame in that. It pays two dollars an hour. Six days a week, ten-hour days. We kind of rotate our schedules, so we get a little time home with our kids. You married?”

“No …I …yes …well, I was. I'm a widow. My husband was killed in …Korea …”

“I'm sorry.” She genuinely seemed to mean it, as she watched Maribeth's eyes. She could see that the girl really wanted the job, and she liked her. She looked awfully young, but there was no harm in that, so were a lot of their patrons.

“Thank you …who do I talk to about the job?”

“Me. You got any experience?” Maribeth hesitated, toying with a lie, and then she shook her head, wondering if she should tell her about the baby.

“I really need the job.” Her hands were shaking as she held her handbag, hoping she would get it. Suddenly she wanted to stay here. It felt like a happy place, a lively town, and she liked it.

“Where do you live?”

“Nowhere yet.” She smiled, looking very young, and it tugged at the other woman's heart. “I just came through on the bus. If you want me, I'll get my bag and find a room. I could start tomorrow.” The other woman smiled. Her name was Julie, and she liked Maribeth's looks. There was something strong and quiet about the girl, as though she had principles and courage. It was an odd thing to guess about her, and yet she had a good feeling about her.

“Go get your bag off the bus,” Julie said with a warm smile, “you can stay with me tonight. My son's visiting my mom in Duluth. You can have his room, if you can stand the mess. He's fourteen and a real slob. My daughter's twelve. I'm divorced. How old are you?” she asked, almost all in one breath, and Maribeth spoke over her shoulder, and told her she was eighteen, as she ran to get her bag off the bus, and came back only two minutes later, breathless and smiling.

“You're sure it's not too much trouble if I spend the night with you?” She was excited and happy.

“Not at all.” Julie grinned as she tossed her an apron. “Here, get to work. You can bus tables with me till I knock off at midnight.” It was only an hour and a half away, but it was exhausting work, carrying the big trays, and heavy pitchers. Maribeth couldn't believe how tired she was when they closed up. There were four other women working there, and some young boys, mostly high school kids, busing tables. Most of the boys were about Maribeth's age, and the women were in their thirties and forties. They said the owner had had a heart attack and only came in mornings and some afternoons now. But he ran a tight ship, and his son did most of the cooking. Julie said she had gone out with him a few times, and he was a nice guy, but nothing much had ever come of it. She had too much responsibility in her life to have much interest or time for romance. She had two kids, and her ex-husband was five years late with his child support. She said it took every penny she had to keep her kids in shoes, pay their doctor bills, and keep their teeth from falling out of their heads, not to mention all the other things they wanted or needed.

“Bringing up kids on your own is no joke,” she said seriously as she drove Maribeth home with her. “They ought to explain that to you real well before you get divorced. Kids aren't made to have alone, let me tell you. You get a headache, you get sick, you're tired, no one cares, you're all they've got. It all ends up on your shoulders. I don't have family here …the girls at the restaurant are real nice about helping me out. They baby-sit, they let me drop the kids off if I have a big date. One of the guys, Martha's husband, he takes my boy out to fish every chance he gets. That kind of stuff means a lot. You can't do it all alone. God knows I try. Sometimes I think it's gonna kill me.”

Maribeth was listening carefully, and the wisdom of Julie's words wasn't lost on her. Once again, she found herself wanting to tell Julie about the baby, but she didn't.

“Too bad you and your husband didn't have kids,” Julie said gently, as if she were reading her thoughts. “But you're young. You'll get married again. How old were you when you got married anyway?”

“Seventeen. Right out of high school. We were only married a year.”

“That's real bad luck, honey.” She patted the young girl's hand and parked her car in the driveway. She lived in a small apartment in the rear, and her little girl was sound asleep when Julie let them in. “I hate leaving her alone, and usually her brother is here. The neighbors listen for her, and she's real independent. She comes to the restaurant with me sometimes too, if I really get stuck. But they don't like it.” It was a good view of what it was like to take care of kids alone, and she didn't make it sound easy. She'd been alone for ten years, ever since the kids were two and four, and she'd moved around a bit, but she liked it here and she thought Maribeth would too. “It's a nice little town, lots of decent kids, and good people working at the college. We see a lot of them at Jimmy D's, and lots of kids. They're gonna love you.”

She showed Maribeth where the bathroom was, and her son's room. His name was Jeffrey and he was gone for two weeks. Julie said Maribeth could stay with them till she found a room. If need be, she'd have her daughter sleep with her once Jeff got back, and give her Jessica's room, but with all the student quarters available, she was sure she'd find something soon.

And she was right. By noon the next day, Maribeth had found an adorable little room in someone's house. It was all done in flowery pink chintzes, and it was a tiny room, but it was cozy and flooded with sunlight, and the price was reasonable. And it was only six blocks away from Jimmy D's, where she would be working. It felt as though everything was falling into place for her. She had only been in town for a few hours, but she felt happy here. It was as though she knew she was meant to be here.

She dropped her parents a postcard on the way to work, with her address, and as she did, she thought about Paul again, and knew there was no point thinking about him. She wondered for how much of her life she would think of him, wondering what he was doing, and where their child was.

At Jimmy D's that day, one of the other waitresses gave her a pink uniform with little white cuffs, and a clean white apron. And she started taking orders that afternoon. Lots of the guys seemed to look at her, and she knew the cook did too, but no one said anything they shouldn't. Everyone was friendly and polite, and she knew that all of the other women had whispered it around that she was a widow. They believed her too. It never occurred to any of them not to.

“How's
it
going, kid?” Julie asked late that afternoon, impressed with her. She had worked hard, and was pleasant to everyone, and it was easy to see that the customers liked her. A few of them asked her name, and some of the younger customers really seemed to enjoy her. And Jimmy liked her too. He had come in that day, and liked what he saw. She was smart, she was neat, and he could tell from looking at her, he said, that she was honest. She was pretty too, and he liked that in a restaurant. No one wanted to look at a sour old bag, who slammed the coffee down in front of the customers and didn't really want to be there. Jimmy wanted all his waitresses, young or old, to be smiling and happy. He wanted them to make people feel good. Like Julie and the others. And now Maribeth. She made a real effort, and she liked the job. She was thrilled to be there.

But Maribeth was exhausted when she walked home to her new room that night, reminding herself of how lucky she was to have found a job, and a room. Now she could go on with her life. She could even take books out from the library, and continue with her studies. She wasn't going to let this ruin her life. She had already decided that. These months were just a detour for her, but she was determined not to lose her way or her direction.

She was waiting on tables the next night, when a serious young man came in, and ordered meat loaf. Julie said he came in frequently for dinner.

“I don't know why' she said knowingly, “but I get the feeling he doesn't like to go home. He doesn't talk, he doesn't smile. But he's always polite. He's a nice kid. I always want to ask him what he's doing here, instead of going home to dinner. Maybe he has no mom. Something happened there. He's got the saddest eyes I've ever seen. Why don't you go wait on him and make his day.” She gave Maribeth a little push in his direction, down toward his end of the counter. He had only looked at the menu for a minute or two before deciding. He had already tried just about everything they had, and he had certain favorites he always liked to order.

“Hi. What would you like?” Maribeth asked shyly, as he glanced at her in covert admiration.

“The number two, thanks. Meat loaf and mashed potatoes.” He blushed. He liked her red hair and tried not to stare at her figure.

“Salad, corn, or spinach?” She remained noncommittal.

“Corn, thanks,” he said, eyeing her. He knew he hadn't seen her there before, and he came in often. He had dinner there three or four times a week, sometimes even on weekends. Their food was plentiful and good and cheap. And when his mother stopped cooking it was the only way he could get a decent dinner.

“Coffee?”

“No, milk. And apple pie a la mode for dessert,“ he said, as if he was afraid it might run out, and she smiled.

“How'do you know you'll have room? We serve pretty big portions.”

“I know,” he smiled back. “I eat here all the time. You're new, aren't you?” She nodded, feeling shy for the first time since she'd been there. He was a nice kid, and she suspected he was about her own age, and somehow she got the impression that he knew it.

“Yeah, I'm new. I just moved here.”

“What's your name?” He was very direct, and very honest. But Julie was right, there was something devastating in his eyes. It almost made you afraid to look there, except that you knew you had to. Something about him drew Maribeth to him. It was as though she had to see who he was and know more about him.

“My name's Maribeth.”

“I'm Tom. It's nice to meet you.”

“Thanks.” She went off to order his dinner for him then, and came back with his glass of milk. Julie had already teased her by then, and said he had never spoken as much to anyone since he'd been there.

“Where are you from?” he asked when she came back, and she told him. “What made you move here, or should I ask?”

“A lot of things. I like it here. The people are really nice. The restaurant's great. I found a real pretty little room near here. Everything just kind of worked out.” She smiled, and was surprised at how easy it was to talk to him. And when she came back with his dinner, he seemed more interested in talking to her than eating.

He nibbled at his pie for a long time, and ordered another piece and another glass of milk, which he had never done before, and talked to her a lot about fly-fishing nearby and asked if she'd ever done it.

She had, a number of years before with her father and brother, but she'd never been very good at it. She liked just sitting there, while they fished, and reading or thinking.

“You could come with me sometime,” he said, and then blushed, wondering why he was talking to her so much. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her since he'd walked into the restaurant and first seen her.

He left her a big tip, and then stood awkwardly for a moment on his side of the counter. “Well, thanks for everything. See you again next time.” And then he walked out. She noticed how tall he was, and how lanky and thin. He was good-looking, but he didn't seem to know it. And he seemed very young. He seemed more like a brother than a boy she'd have been interested in, but whatever he was, or would be, or even if she never saw him again, he'd been nice to talk to.

He came in again the next day, and the day after that, and he was deeply disappointed to find that she had a day off and he missed her. And then he came back again after the weekend.