Chapter Nine

 

 

“QUACK! QUACK! QUACK! QUACK!”

The ruckus made by the ducks, alarms Bonita and Bandito and they jump up and stick their heads out from under the covers. Bonita bounces out, jumps on my tummy, and crawls over my head in a rush to get to the window. All she can see is the top of the canopy. Both of the dogs run down to bark at the door. I forgot to close the fenced area! It is later than usual, 8:45AM.

I climb out of bed and unhook the bungee cord to the door, I feel pain radiate in my sore wrists. The dogs yelping is loud and piercing. “Bonita! Bandito! Shut up! Please, shut up!”

I slip on my flip-flops and go down the steps. All the ducks are in a group by the bottom of the steps, looking up and quacking like mad at something, or me, like they are hungry. There is no evidence of them ever having been in the fenced area. In fact, I did not leave the fenced area open at all. Are ducks smart enough to know who buys the seed? Is this Bubba’s way of some sort of revenge for buying the seed in the first place, by not feeding them anymore?

I walk sleepily over to the storage room. I’m sure my hair is all over the place and my eyes must surely be puffed up like balloons. The smoke coming out of the vent by the kitchen door smells like pancakes and burns my puffy eyes. The ducks are following me like in some children’s fairy tale book. Bonita and Bandito are still barking from inside the trailer. I scoop out a large pan of seed, walk over to the lake’s edge, and toss it on the ground. The quacking ceases as they eagerly eat.

Walking back to the trailer I notice the rumbling logging truck parked across the street. The highway is busy. I slept through most of the morning noise.

I put the dogs in the fenced area while I make coffee. They smell all around, marking their small confining territory. I’m too tired to care if they pee in there or not, maybe it will help to keep the ducks away.

After my shower and a bowl of oatmeal, I load the dogs into the car. We spend an hour walking by the creek. When I return, Terry is walking by my trailer at the same time I pull into my parking space. She looks like she wants to talk, because she is walking towards me. She has a cup of coffee in her hand. “Denise, can we talk for a minute?” Her coffee cup is printed with, “Shut the hell up. I’m not awake yet!”

“Sure Terry. Let me put these guys in the fenced area first. Come on in and sit here on the bench. Look out for duck poop. I’ll get myself some coffee too.” I close Terry and the dogs in the fenced area and go to make my coffee; I can see Terry from the kitchen window talking to my dogs. When I return to the bench, she starts in. “I’m scared Denise. Bubba’s trying to make me leave. I have no place to go! We’ve been together for two years. He’s gotten so mean!” Terry says distressingly. I’m not so stupid as to think that Terry is some sort of innocent victim here. I’ll bet she could be as mean as a pit bull if she wanted to.

“Bubba did that to your face, didn’t he?” I ask.

“Yes.” Terry says touching her cheek.

“Terry, you can’t live like that! Get the hell out of there!” I plea.

“Ya don’t understand! I have no place to go! My Mom lives in Utah, and we don’t get along. I don’t even have a way of getting there. Bubba’s gonna kill me. I just know he is. But I’ll fight back. I’ll kill him first. I’ll fight until I’m dead. He won’t be able to kill me easily. Listen Denise; if ya don’t see me for a couple of days, I want ya to remember what I said. Do ya understand? I guarantee I’ll be dead inside that trailer! Call the cops, cause I’ll be dead for sure!”

Now this is going too far! “Terry, if you feel this way, then leave now! What in the hell are you trying to say, that you’re so desperate that you’re willing to stay and know he might eventually kill you? Is Bubba really that stupid? This is insane! Use common sense here. Get out now!”

Terry is now crying. “Never! I’ll die first! He loves me. I know it. It’s just that something is wrong with him right now. He used to have cancer, and I think he’s worried about it again. I don’t know. All I know is that he’s changed.”

I’m now wondering if he has changed because he is interested in me. Is this what a big bully does to get himself free—terrorize the living hell out of whatever is in his way? Terry is stupid! Flat out stupid! I hate this type of dysfunctional thinking. They are just addicted to violence and alcohol.

“Terry, I have to get ready for work. I’ll remember. If I don’t see you, I’ll call the cops. I promise. You should think seriously about getting the hell out of here. Okay!”

“Ain’t gonna happen, Denise.”

“Whatever. I’ll talk to you later.” I resign my effort to advise. People don’t really want advice, they just need a person to hear them vent. I have been guilty of having deaf ears once or twice myself.

I go back inside the fifth wheel and watch Terry walk over to Billy’s lawn. She turns on the water hose and begins spraying the potted plants.

Drama. Drama. Drama. Oh, to be back at my little stone house by the river in Carmel Valley, feeding my wild birds, walking the river, my dogs running free, and that wonderful silence. I miss walking on the beach of Carmel on warm sunny days, Bandito biting at the foamy edge of the waves, Bonita barking at the sea gulls. Maybe I’m really a professional bum at heart, a recluse. How come my sons don’t have any of my characteristics? They are into the man ‘toy’ thing and making lots of money, very much like their father. Maybe it’s a good idea for them to be financially stable; I might need them to take care of me one day.

It’s getting hotter everyday. I turn on the air conditioner, feed the dogs, and eat my banana cream pie. On the way to work, I walk past my fire pit. It looks as if I won’t be spending much time enjoying that working as late as I do. I always have my two days off, I guess. The one twisted piece of wood that looks like a bird, still needs to be leaned against the pine tree, so I carry it over to display it properly before Bubba throws it into the fire pit.

Ray is watching me as he sits on the rear ledge of his truck parked by the propane tank. He waves, and I walk over to say hello.

“Hello pretty lady! I’m waitin’ on a guest to fill his propane tank. How is my gal this fine day?”

“I’m just fine Ray. Thanks. And so how are you?” I ask.

“Besides not getting’ enough oxygen, and this damn eczema, and being tired, I’m doin’ fine myself.” Ray scratches his arm.

“So that’s eczema that’s giving you all the itching problems huh?”

“What I need is a good nurse! Someone to make me relax and rub my tired bones.” Ray is now scratching harder.

“Next time I come over, I’ll make sure that you put some cream on that.”

“Promise?” He looks hopeful.

“Promise. I’ve gotta get into your kitchen now before you fire me for being late.”

“Never.”

An RV is slowly moving in our direction. I walk away.

Inside, Billy is at the counter registering a guest. Helen is stocking the grocery shelves. I clock in as Billy explains: “Karen is still bein’ stubborn. She doesn’t seem to care that Helen won’t be workin’ the kitchen no more. She refuses to come to work until Helen is gone. She’ll come around soon. She’s done this before. She needs the money to help out with the grandchildren. Not many jobs round these parts. The fact of the matter is this; I’ll be needing ya to waitress for Bubba for a few hours’ till Betty gets here. That okay with ya?”

“Sure. I like to waitress.” I answer, but leery of working with Bubba.

“Bubba’s goin’ a little crazy in there, so better get yurself over there and help out.”

The special board is not even hanging up today. I wonder where it is. I put on my apron that I keep inside the kitchen now, and say hello to Bubba.

“Hey Bubba! I guess I’ll be your waitress today.” I announce.

“WHO TOLD YA YOU COULD USE THAT TRI-TIP? I WAS GONNA MAKE BEEF VEGETABLE SOUP TODAY!”

“Actually, Billy had requested for me to make a special out of it for the day. You should have told me, Bubba, and then I would have made other considerations to please both of you.” I was being overly formal at the moment to keep my adrenalin at bay.

“WELL, OKAY, JUST REMEMBER THAT I’M IN CHARGE OF WHAT GOES ON IN THIS KITCHEN. SO YA BETTER LET ME KNOW NEXT TIME.” Your kitchen my ass! He only cooks breakfast. It’s me that cooks lunch and dinner. I think he’s got it a little mixed up! Right! Like I’m supposed to go find him every time I make a move in the kitchen just to get his approval. I don’t think so! I am feeling the adrenalin begin to pump through my veins anyway, disregarding my fruitless attempt to harness it.

“YA DID THE GRILL PERFECT LAST NIGHT! TODAY’S SOUP IS CHICKEN NOODLE.” He was now giving me a smile. It’s really weird how he goes from sinister to agreeable in two seconds or less, leaving me all drained, shaky, and fired up for battle.

Five men, who are obviously fishermen, sit down at a table. I put on my waitress personality, and go to take their order. I’m quite pleasant when I want to be, or should I say, when I’m not being threatened. All the men laugh hysterically at my Chihuahua bait story that I share with them. Each man orders a heavy meal.

While I am taking more orders from other guests, I hear Bubba yell to me. I walk back to the grill. He is holding the order for the five men in his hand, and shaking it at me. “YUR NOT WRITIN’ THE ORDERS RIGHT! I CAN’T FIGUR OUT WHAT THIS IS! HERE, YA PUT, CHX SAL, LIKE THIS, TA LEAVE ROOM OVER HERE! DRINKS GO DOWN HERE, OUT OF MY WAY. JUST WRITE BBQBEEF SAN, HERE. NOT THE WHOLE BLASTED THING! PRINT LARGE LETTERS. AND THIS ONE HERE, IS HE HAVIN’ FRIES OR WHAT?”

“Good gawd, Bubba, I’m trying my best! Give me just a little more time to get your order language down the way you’d like. I’m new here remember?” I’m very close to losing it all together. I hope this is my last time to wait tables for him. No wonder Betty is such a tense, little, self-face-slapper-over-achiever!

“TAKE THESE PLATTERS OVER TO THOSE TWO GALS IN THE CORNER.”

“Yes, Heir Commandant!” I salute.

“WHAT?”

“Nothing.” I glare at Bubba and grab the full platters.

After several people have been served, Bubba decides to go over and talk to the group of fishermen, who are finishing up their meal. He starts joking loudly with them. He has just finished up with some macho, sexist type joke. I walk over with the pot of coffee to re-fill their cups. At that same moment, one of the men fart. They all laugh.

“DENISE! THAT’S NOT VERY POLITE! YA COULD AT LEAST SAY EXCUSE ME!” Bubba feels pretty good about saying that. I raised two boys, and know that burping and farting can be so fun to small boys and immature men. I laugh along with their silliness for the sake of peace. I raise my hand, and with my fingertips, I give Bubba a light push on his shoulder. “Oh Bubba, that’s not nice to say.” I am still laughing with the goofy men, trying to be a part of the fun when Bubba screams. “OOH! OUCH! DAMN IT TO HELL! THAT’S MY CANCER!” Bubba is holding his arm like I have just beat him with a baseball bat, and glaring at me as if I should have known that his shoulder hurt. I guess it was also funny to all the men, because, who would think a big, loud, brute like Bubba could be hurt by the touch of a finger? The fishermen start howling with laughter, thinking he is still joking around. I am not laughing anymore because I see the rage in Bubba’s face.

“IT’S NOT FUNNY! I REALLY HAVE CANCER HERE IN MY ARM!” He looks and sounds like a bratty child as he holds his arm. The entire restaurant is silent and looking in our direction as the “C” word radiates fear in all the guests who are trying to enjoy their meal.

“Bubba, I had no idea! You’ve never said a word about this to me.” I am so embarrassed standing here like this. I would never purposely hurt anyone! Everyone saw that I barely touched him. A couple of the men are still snickering. I don’t think that they believe Bubba’s big show of pain for one minute. I don’t know what to think of this scene. Terry mentioned something about cancer.

Bubba storms back to the kitchen, counts out his tips, and leaves the kitchen slamming the door. I am left alone standing there with a pot of coffee, like an exhibit, everyone awaiting my next move. I’m sure they expect hysteria. Then I see Lottie sit down at a table. I walk stiff and awkwardly over to her, and am relieved to be free of my bewildering moment. The fishermen are getting up from the table now.

“Hello Lottie! Would you like your regular?” Lottie starts in. “Bubba is the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. What a rude son-of-a-bitch! I love Billy, and I love her food here, and if this wasn’t the only place in town to eat, I’d stay away, just to not see him ever again! He did that show of pain to get to you! He’s jealous! He’s afraid you’re gonna be a better cook than he is, which by the way, you are. He’s workin’ it good for sympathy of some sort. Don’t let him get to you. He’s gonna try, mark my words! And yes, I’ll have my regular.” I like Lottie. I guess owning and operating a bar in Vegas for twenty years has taught her a lot about alcoholic, temperamental, bullies. The fishermen have left me a twenty-five dollar tip. It appears it was me that was pitied.

I am getting the dishes all cleaned up when Betty comes on duty. She is raring to go! She gets me caught up on food prep faster than a bolt of lightening! I hear banging of dishes being cleaned. She zooms to the oven with a tray full of potatoes to bake. She chops the lettuce. With Betty’s hyper-vigilance, I can concentrate on cleaning up Bubba’s mess at the grill. When I cook, I clean as I go. Bubba only does his food orders and his neglected messes build up, one on top of the other.

It’s not easy to make Betty slow down enough to chat. I’d like to get to know her better. What makes Betty tick? It’s easy to see from her looks that it is not drugs. I start asking her questions that she answers while working. I find out that she is Amish, and was shunned by her family for an undisclosed reason six years ago. She has worked here ever since. She lives alone, and has no pets. This job is her life. She is apprehensive to admit to me that Bubba is difficult to work for, but is telling me in her own way, how happy she is to work with me in the kitchen. She greatly admires Billy and Ray, and has given her all to please them. Poor little thing! She says she’s happy. She loves being free and on her own. I need to find out more about the Amish someday.

After my short break to check on my dogs, I return to the kitchen just in time for the dinner crowd to start arriving. We are extremely busy, and everything is running smoothly, thanks to Betty’s efficiency. I am cooking two ham steak dinners and a Rueben. Betty has just picked up an empty, used, mixing bowl from my cooking area and zoomed around the corner to clean it. I hear the crash on the other side of the wall. It sounds like a jet airplane has just flown through the building and crashed through a pile of stainless steel pans. The wall vibrates. I see the restaurant guests stand up. Their mouths are open in shock, and they are looking towards the floor area by the sink. I walk around to the sink area, and find Betty on the floor. She has crashed into the tall drying rack full of dishes and pans! She is in a ball on the floor crying and holding her left arm.

Billy and Helen come running to the kitchen. We all hover over her. The left side of Betty’s face, and her left shoulder and arm are beginning to swell. Bruises are developing that are the exact shape and size of the drying rack. She hit the rack with the force of a bullet! Betty looks pale, and is in agony. Billy and Helen walk her to Billy’s car to drive her to the hospital. Helen does not go with them because she is needed at the register. The closest hospital is an hour away. Does the chaos never end? Karen has quit, and now Betty will be out for a long time. I know she has broken a bone, or bones, somewhere in that little body.

Henry comes in to eat. He has a severe limp from an old injury years ago. One leg is shorter than the other. He wants to know what my special is for the day. “I’m sorry Henry, I didn’t have time to make one today.”

“That’s too bad. Sure did love yur Spanish steak, little lady. What’s ya got goin’ on with them angry looking bites on yur arms and ankles?”

“I guess the mosquitoes around here just love me.” I am still in shock about Betty’s horrible fall, so my conversation sounds monotone. It’s hard to be conversational right now.

“Who wouldn’t? I’ll tell ya what ya need. Ya need some garlic tablets. That’ll keep them buggers away!”

“Henry, Betty just took one heck of a fall. Billy just took her to the hospital.” Henry does not seem too surprised about this news. “That little gal was headed for a fall for years! Runs around like she’s all wound up tighter than a rubber band! That’s too bad. I guess I’ll have my regular, if I can’t have one of yur specials. If ya ever feel like comin’ out to my ranch some day, let me know. I’d sure love for ya to see my operation out there.” Henry seems unconcerned for Betty.

“Thanks, Henry. Maybe I just might do that one day.” Still monotone.

I return to the grill to finish the dinner hours. It does not take me long to clean up after everyone has left since Betty had done most of the work before she fell. The last customer leaves at 7:20. I clock out at 8:15. I have made $87 in tips. I leave Betty’s share in an envelope under the counter. It is still light enough outside to walk around the park with the dogs. Guests are still barbecuing, fishing, playing cards at their outside tables, and kids are running around, so I feel safe. Bubba and Terry are collecting trash, and driving it in the scooter to the back forest storage area. God only knows where they are piling it! At least the trash is getting picked up before the weekend madness! The new guests will now have some place to put their trash.

The ducks see me, and run in my direction to be fed. I throw out a pan of seed before returning to my trailer. I hope they leave me alone in the morning. I decide to take a small bag of feed with me, just in case they are waiting by my trailer tomorrow. I guess I should have let them live off the dog food.

Before taking the dogs out I spray myself with the insect repellent and then walk the perimeter of the park. Ray is sitting with Jim having a cocktail at Jim’s picnic table at the bend in the road. Once again the barking begins between all the dogs. I shout out. “Have you heard anything from Billy about Betty?”

Ray replies. “Yeah, she broke her shoulder real good! Billy wants ya to come on over later for a drink. She’ll want to know about the day and how everything went. Billy should be home in about an hour. She had to take Betty home and put her ta bed.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”

Back at the fifth wheel, I eat the grilled ham and cheese I had made for myself, feed the dogs a mixture of dry dog food mixed with leftover New York steak, and take a shower. I see Billy’s car lights entering the park. Ray’s old truck squeaks by my trailer on the way back from Jim’s, headed to his house. I’m anxious to hear about Betty, but do not rush over so that Billy and Ray have time to catch their breath and relax. I make myself a gin and limeade, and play with the dogs for twenty minutes or so by throwing their toys up onto the bed to fetch.

Bubba has his five-alarm fire going in his fire pit. Good, at least I can talk to Billy and Ray alone tonight! I have a few questions. When I get to their sliding glass door, I see Billy inside pouring a drink, and Ray is picking at his arms at the bar and is wearing his oxygen hose. They see me, and wave to come in. Ray greets my arrival by saying. “Well, there’s our pretty gal! Ya got one of them sissy drinks again I see.”

“Can’t help it Ray, I just love these on warm summer nights.” I look fondly at my icy green drink. “So Billy how is Betty?” I quickly add.

“She’s busted her shoulder real good. Also has a concussion. I’ve told her a million times to slow down! Knew that’d a happen one day. She’ll be out for several weeks, maybe the rest of the summer. Damn, is she bruised! Heard that racket in the kitchen, and thought the roof done come down on the place! Gotta real problem now with help. Karen quittin’ like she did, and now Betty all banged up. Might have ta hire someone for the rest of the summer. Little local gal named Jamie asked the other day. Might give her a call. She needs work until she starts college in September.”

“Boy, that fall of Betty’s scared the heck out of me. She must have been going faster than the speed of light!” I say as the crashing once again flashes through my mind.

“How’d it go at the grill tonight? Any problems?” Billy asks.

“No, no problems to speak of. It’s just that I was wondering about Bubba’s cancer?”

“Bubba don’t have no cancer! Never heard him mention anythin’ about that before. Why?” Billy looks bewildered at me as smoke from her cigarette rolls into her eyes and makes her squint.

I tell Billy and Ray about the incident in the restaurant today, and question them about his aggressive behavior. “Well, if he has some problem with cancer, he’s never talked to us about it. Has he ever said anythin’ to you Ray?” Ray shakes his head no, and continues itching. “And as far as him being dangerous, that’s also a big no. He ain’t nothin’ but a big teddy bear! It’s all bark, and no bite, believe me, we should know!” I think they are in denial.

“Billy? Is Terry employed here with you?” I’m beginning to feel nosey, but my curiosity overpowers my ignorance. I want information!

“Naw, she’s just hangin’ around to be with Bubba. We’ve had a few problems with that gal, that’s for sure! She gets herself drunk, and all hell breaks lose. That’s why we won’t give her a permanent job here. We’ve had to make her leave a time or two before, but she always comes back.”

“Oh,” like diarrhea as Bubba said.

“Quit yur damn itchin’ Ray!” Billy slaps Ray’s hand.

“I can’t Billy. Ya know it drives me crazy at this time of the night!” Ray replies in frustration.

I make an offer to help out on that current problem. “Listen, where’s that witch hazel? I can apply that to your arms while we chat.”