Bobby's Diner by Susan Wingate

yet.”
    “Hey, Van. Let’s try not to worry
about this, okay? It’s a   distraction we
don’t need. Nothing’s gonna happen. Don’t you give it another thought.”
    She turned away and clasped both
her arms around the front of her like she got a chill down her spine. “Have you
counted the till?”
    “Huh-uh.”
    “Well, don’t you think it’d be a
good idea if you did?
    Come on, Vanessa, let’s close
this place up, okay?”
    “Sure… of course, you’re right.
What’s gotten into me? He really had me going for a second. What time is it?”
She looked at her watch. “Oh, Christ! I’m supposed to be at Roberta’s tonight.
She wants me to help her with some things around the house—you know, some of
Rick’s things. Sounds fun, doesn’t it? Wanna come?” When she saw my face
lighten up and actually consider being included she quickly rescinded the question.
“Oh, I’m joking. I’m certain Roberta would prefer to be alone with her mother.”
She said it like it was a sentence in prison. But, to me, it sounded like water
to a parched animal in the desert.
    “Oh, I wasn’t actually thinking I
would go, Vanessa. What’s gotten into you?” I turned it around on her. “That
guy really got under your skin, didn’t he?” She rubbed her arms and went back
to the cash register to finish her day and I went back into the kitchen to take
inventory for the next. My gut hurt like someone had punched me. My gut and my
heart.

 

 
 
    CHAPTER 15

 
    When Roberta pushed off of the
floor from packing a box her face was beet-red. Vanessa could see how the
divorce had taxed her. She’d lost a lot of weight. Her eyes looked sallow and
empty. It seemed she needed a break from reality, needed to leave the house
that was once hers and Rick’s together. Get away for a while, maybe. Vanessa
knelt on the bedroom floor while her daughter lashed out in front of her.
    “She feeds on families like a fox
in a chicken-coop, mother!” A globule of spit flew from her mouth and she wiped
her lips with her arm.
    “Roberta, you do have a knack for
the dramatic, dear. I think instead of engineering you should’ve gone into
theatre.”
    “Mother!”
    “Roberta, your father and I…”
    “Were perfect together!”
    “Honey, no marriage is perfect.”
She looked up at her daughter’s angry face and thought how much she looked
like   Bobby. Vanessa could tell Roberta
knew what she insinuated. She turned away from her mother and walked out of the
bedroom. The strong footfall of each step lessened as Roberta walked further
down the hall, through the kitchen and out the back door. From her daughter’s
bedroom, Vanessa heard the screen door slam and a metal chair scraping along
the concrete patio in the back and then it stopped.
    Roberta and Rick lived in the
house for so long Vanessa forgot when and how two people could collect all the
mementos that fill drawers and shelves, crates and hangers, boxes in the garage
and attic, but by the end of today, with her help, they would supposedly cut
the collection in half—half Rick’s, half Roberta’s.
    Rick had been commuting for years
to a job in Las Vegas. He’d wanted to move there for years but Roberta would
have nothing to do with relocating away from the town she’d grown up in, her
family, her friends. Also, Rick’s position in another town offered her a place to
get away with him for extended weekends. Rick’s condo in Vegas had a pool and
no maintenance so for Roberta it was like taking a vacation. For Rick, it was still
work. Over the past year, Vanessa would listen to her daughter as she cried
and   complained about repeated arguments
and Rick’s insistence   for her to move
there completely. In the end, he got his way but had to leave his wife to get
it. He wanted to remain friends with Roberta and she was completely insulted by
the notion. She couldn’t believe she would soon have to check the box
‘divorced’ on applications, or refer to Rick as her