True was happy that the bus depot was right across the street from The Last Stop Diner. It truly felt like the last stop for her. When she’d bought her bus ticket for ‘Anywhere but here USA’ she didn’t imagine that when she laid sixty dollars on the counter and asked how far south this would take her, that she would end up on the outskirts of a mountain town in Kentucky. It was still cold here, just as cold as Michigan. The point of going down south was to be warm while she was homeless.
It was a stroke of possible luck that there was a little sign taped on the diner’s door reading “Help Wanted”.
But when she opened the door she was frozen there, not due to the brisk cold but due to the eyes that pinned her in place. Everyone in the establishment was white. A hush fell over the entire restaurant and it was like she was thrown back in time and these white people had never before set eyes on a freed black. However the cold and her angry stabs of hunger over-ruled her reluctance to breach the cold reception. She walked to the counter, shrugged off her backpack and sat down on a stool with a cracked and worn red vinyl covering.
She stared at a plastic two-sided menu and was happy to see that she could get coffee, toast, 2 scrambled eggs and 2 slices of bacon for under five dollars. That would put a dent in her meager funds but she couldn’t stomach another ninety-nine cent hotdog at a Quicky Mart.
“How can I help you, sugah?” A harried waitress asked her. Despite looking tired and rushed, the forty-something woman was pretty and shapely with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her makeup was perfect and she waitressed wearing four inch clogs. Her broad smile helped to warm True a little.
“Um, yes ma’am. Can I get the bacon and egg special?” True replied.
After taking her order the waitress disappeared returning a few moments later with an empty coffee cup in one hand and a pot of hot coffee in the other.
“Cream and sugah is right there and your order will be right up-”
“Tiffany, where are my hash browns!” A man bellowed.
“Hold your horses, Hank I ain’t got but two hands!”
True’s eyes lifted towards the man making the ruckus, but she then saw that his expression was playful. She sipped the coffee taking it black more because she didn’t want to waste time with cream or sugar. The warm liquid thawed her further and she cupped her hands around the porcelain and continued to drink as she took stock of her surroundings.
It was crowded, nearly every seat was filled with men women and children. Either the food was phenomenal, or this was the only restaurant for miles around. She later learned it was both. Most everyone continued to either give her the side-eye, or outright stare. She ignored the attention with the hopes that she hadn’t parked herself right smack in the middle of KKK land.
True’s order came almost as soon as her coffee was finished and everything was cooked to perfection. She ate with gusto, having to force herself not to shovel the warm food into her hungry body.
When she was nearly finished with her meal, the waitress quickly slapped the bill on the counter. There were only two waitresses and True noted that Tiffany was covering both the counter and a section of tables. She dashed off to deliver an order to a table with a large family. True dug into her pocket for a five-dollar bill and then added to that two crumpled singles.
She caught Tiffany as she moved to collect the bill. “Excuse me. I saw the help wanted sign. I’d like to put in an application-“ True began.
Tiffany gave the young girl a quick look-over, taking in her thin coat, and the crumpled money along with the tip. To Tiffany she didn’t look much older than mid-twenties. She was a cute black girl, small but toned. She had braids, which probably would go over about as well as a giant 1970s Afro around these parts. But Tiffany could tell that the girl was obviously down on her luck, and right now with two less waitresses--so was the diner.
“We don’t have any applications, honey. I’m the manager here and we sure are shorthanded since Bonnie up and ran off with her man’s best friend. Hell I can’t even get to the payroll, I’m so busy running orders.”
“If we don’t get paid you gonna see a riot up in here,” someone from the kitchen yelled.
“Hush up back there, Jeb!” Tiffany yelled over her shoulder. She turned her attention back to True.
“What’s your name, doll?”
“Trulane, but everyone calls me True.”
“True have you ever waitressed before?”
“Yes, ma’am.” True replied honestly.
“Do you have a criminal record?” Tiffany asked.
“No ma’am.” That wasn’t quite truthful. But…
“You’re hired. When can you start?” All eyes were on them but at this point True didn’t care. She needed money.
“Now if you like,” True replied.
“I like,” Tiffany said.
She took True into the back and gave her a blue T-shirt that said, ‘This is your last stop’, a black apron and an order pad.
“Lets see what you can do, True.”
Waitressing doesn’t change much from restaurant to restaurant. Pour coffee, take orders, deliver food. Period. The cook was an old man that reminded True of an old cartoon character named Popeye. He had big muscled forearms to a far less muscled body, white crew cut hair, and a gruff manner. Jeb thought the kitchen area belonged to him because he worked every day from opening to closing—and they never closed safe for Christmas and Easter.
He snapped out the proper way to deliver the orders and the correct terms. But True only needed to be told something once and at the end of her shift Tiffany and the other waitress, Pauline, gave her high praise. Even Jeb, reluctantly complimented her.
“Can you work a double shift?” Tiffany asked. “I hate to ask but I have to get some paper work done or we ain’t gonna have food next week.” Her voice carried a mellow country twang that True liked and she thought that if she stayed around these parts for any length of time she’d begin to talk just like them.
“We better have food next week,” Jeb called from the kitchen and Tiffany rolled her eyes.
“Hush up, Jeb!”
True smiled. The people seemed nice and none of her customers had complained or given her trouble, although each new customer came in looking at her as if she had just stepped off a space ship from mars. But if being stared at was her only troubles then she was doing good. The tips cancelled out anything else. Each tip whether it was green or change was gratefully received. Her stash of money was growing lending to a sense of relief from her nagging desperation.
“Sure, Tiffany. I can work a double.” True replied.
“Awesome! True you don’t know how much I appreciate it. When it slows again, I’ll take you in the back and get your information so you can get paid, okay, sweetie?”
“Yes, okay,” True replied with a slight frown.