Being Audrey Hepburn

“Your mom is going to be so happy to see you,” she said in her gravelly voice.

“How is she?” I asked.

“I have to let Doctor Newton give you the update,” she said. “But he’s off duty at the moment.”

“I meant, how is she doing? You know…”

“I know. I’ve quit now, too,” she said. She held her hand up to show me. It was trembling. “Maybe it’s just all the coffee I’m drinking so I don’t feel it. But I promised her she wouldn’t have to do this alone. It’s not as bad for me; I’ve still got a husband at home.”

God, I was determined not to cry.

“That’s okay, dear. You go and make your mother happy,” she said, managing a grin. “I’ll be back in a little while to give her a sedative.” As she left, I took a deep breath and walked in. Mom was sitting up; all the catheters and monitors had been removed and she was reading the newspaper.

“Hi, Mom,” I said. She gave me a glare as if she had never seen me before. I knew that look. It wasn’t good. I sat down quietly and waited. She didn’t say anything for the first few moments. Already her face seemed less bloated and the splotchy redness was gone, but she appeared gray and weary.

“So what’s the story with college?”

I closed my eyes, summoning my courage. “I’m not going,” I said.

She put down her paper and glared at me like she wanted to leap out of bed and strangle me. I could tell she was trying to keep from getting angry. Her whole body was tense.

“It’s the plan,” she said.

“I know, Mom, I…”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to me,” she said, not letting me get a word in. “They’re keeping me here, and I don’t even know if anyone will let me work again.” Her eyes glistened, like there might be tears. But she was too tough to let it show. I could see that she couldn’t stand being weepy. She turned away to quietly wipe her eyes. For the first time, she seemed vulnerable.

“Have they said that to you?”

“Are you kidding? Now that they know, they’ll never hire me back. Why? Are you suddenly an expert?” she demanded.

“Mom, they have to let you work. As long as you go into a program like AA and you get better, they can’t fire you.” I wanted to hold her hand or hug her. I started to move closer but wasn’t sure she’d let me.

“Where did you get that?” Her belligerence resurfaced.

I sat back.

“I was talking to Nan. She’s at the house,” I said, knowing the impact.

“What?!”

“Yep, a regular staff sergeant, she’s whipping the house in shape for when you get home and getting Ryan to finish summer school. Courtney’s helping.”

That made Mom go silent. We sat there for what seemed like ages.

Mom kept shaking her head in small little nods, staring off into space. She was so tired that her eyes closed a couple of times. Everything seemed to weigh on her, and I realized I had no idea what was going through her mind.

“Yeah, Nan tried to call a couple of times,” she added finally.

“Did you talk to her?”

“No,” she answered, as if my question was absurd.

“Well, it’s time you guys start talking again because I can’t be there.” I waited for that to sink in. “You need her help.”

“And where are you going to be?” Mom asked, but I didn’t have a chance to answer because Nurse Bry

“Ella, isn’t it great to have your lovely daughter visit?” she said as she adjusted her pillows and settled her bed. Mom sat silent as a stone. “Don’t mind your mother’s grumpy face,” Nurse Bry

I could imagine these two tough old battle-axes sitting around shooting the shit about everyone.

Mom was silent as her friend handed her a cup of water and some pills, which I assumed were sedatives. I slid over to the side table, where Mom couldn’t see me, and slipped out my envelope of poker wi

As I got ready to leave, Mom was falling asleep.

“We’re not done talking about this, Lisbeth,” she said, struggling to keep her eyes open.

“I know, Mom. You rest. I’ll be back soon.”

49

Fried pickles, bacon grease, and cheese. Those were the first smells that hit me as I walked in the door at the Hole. Everyone was so busy that no one noticed me. It was like one of those scenes from the movies where you attend your own funeral. It was easy to see that the Finer Diner was moving along perfectly well without me, almost as if I had been erased and was never there.

“Two cows with bacon and cheddar, table eleven,” I heard Buela say from the kitchen and ring that a

He was wearing one of his ski

Crystal was all hot in her tied-up work shirt, shredded Daisy Dukes, pink apron, and heels. Who could possibly wear heels while working in a diner? Me, I’d face plant into a plate of corned-beef hash in no time. But Crystal handled it with ease. It hurt to watch as she came by and leaned on Jake’s shoulder in that familiar way I used to.

“What are you doing here?” Buela asked. I hadn’t seen her come up behind me.

“Oh hi, Buela,” I said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in. I came in to tell you that I have to quit, because my mom…”

“You can’t quit,” she said. “I fired you two weeks ago.”

“Really? I didn’t know I…”

“Save your breath. I don’t want to hear about it,” she said, heading back to the kitchen. “Your last check is in your locker. Take your things and leave. And don’t think you’re taking your pink apron. That stays here.” As if anyone would want to have one of those greasy pink aprons. Maybe somewhere they were much-sought-after authentic diners-of-America souvenirs. I passed Buela’s office and the freezer room, and then I ran into Jake. I wasn’t sure he’d say anything to me, so I tried not to make eye contact.

“Hey Lizzy,” he said softly.

“Hey Jake,” I said turning, afraid my knees might buckle if my eyes met his.

“I heard about your mom,” he said.

“She’s going to be okay. Thanks for asking.”

“And you? How have you been?” Something about the softness in his voice, the way the words flowed, made me look up.

“Good,” I said. Our eyes met. I had a lot to say, like how I loved that strand of black hair that he didn’t seem to be able to tame and the way his T-shirt hung on his shoulders, that I wondered if we could start all over again, but Jake’s smoky-blue eyes grew serious, and I worried what he might be thinking so I didn’t say all that.

“We’ve missed you around here,” he said.

“I don’t think so,” I said and managed to smile. “Seems like everyone is doing just fine without me, but I’m glad to see you again.”

“Yeah.” Then he got quiet, hanging his head, looking down at his feet as he always did when there was something serious he was thinking about. I was thinking, too, trying to find the right way to say that I was sorry for what happened and couldn’t we be friends.

“About last time…” we both blurted out, speaking at the same time, fumbling over each other’s words.

“You go ahead,” I said.

“No you, sorry, I didn’t mean…” and he trailed off.

“I’m the one that’s sorry,” I said finally. “I’m sorry I missed your gig. I’m sorry I came too late. I’m sorry we’re not friends, I miss being your friend. I miss you and me and Jess hanging out at the diner, but I guess Jess isn’t here anyway…”

I spied Crystal checking us out from the restaurant.