Bobby's Diner by Susan Wingate Page B

living it up on my time off. Bobby was tired of working too but
he still went in everyday like clock work. I’d take   vacations without him because he couldn’t
just shut down the diner. So, I’d go alone—cruises, beaches of Mexico, Canada,   wherever I wanted. I thought I deserved it.
Well, he’d been saying for a while how he was thinking about selling, the
diner, that is. He’d bring it up and I’d shoot it down. We wouldn’t have an
income if we sold, not like we did anyway. I just acted like   he wasn’t serious but he was. He wanted out
as much as I enjoyed being out. He was stuck, not me. So, I didn’t realize how
serious he was.”
    “Mother, it still doesn’t justify
what he did to you.”
    “That’s right, Roberta, what he
did to ME. Not you. Your father and I and our divorce has nothing to do with
you. I wish, oh, how I wish, you would get over blaming him for something you
really know nothing about.”
    “My god . I’m in so much pain
right now and you’re yelling at me?”
    “I was in a lot of pain too,
honey. But, I didn’t have anyone to cry to. So, please stop acting like a child
and get on with your life. Rick’s gone, get over it. Bobby left, I got over it.
But, you? You hung on as if it were you who was married to him, not me. That
was MY divorce, this is yours. Start dealing with it like a grown-up, honey.
The   sooner you do, the sooner you’ll get
over it.” Vanessa stood up in front of her awestruck daughter, stepped into
her, patted her shoulder and kissed her on the forehead.
    “Call me when you’re serious
about packing up his things. I’ll be over in a flash. Bye, honey.”
    Vanessa understood Roberta was
flummoxed by her mother’s forthrightness. She would be angry at first and think
about all the ‘comebacks’ she could say when they saw each other next. She
would manifest scenarios she could play out to some imagined finale. But in the
end, her daughter would understand why her mother confessed her parent’s sordid
past. Vanessa knew she would understand. Vanessa knew this much about her
daughter.
    From inside the kitchen window
she watched as Roberta rested her head in her palm, put her feet back up, and
did the thing she guessed she’d been doing a lot of these days, she cried.

 

 
 
    CHAPTER 16

 
    Everyone from the gas station to
the grocery store was   out in front when
I arrived at work—everyone, including the police. They were hanging yellow
crime scene tape around a couple of the store entrances—the mercantile and the
pet store. I   was watching while I leaned
against my car in the diner’s   parking
lot. For fifteen minutes people milled about with their hands to their mouths.
Talking closely together, talking in groups of twos, then threes… milling,
talking, going up to the police, heading back to their group of two or three…
milling. José drove up in his rusted-out Toyota Sentra. Dirt powdered up and wafted
like a ghost off in a breeze when his car rolled from the paved road onto the
gravel parking lot. I turned my head away to avoid the dust while still keeping
my eye on the fuss going on. He parked next to me in front of the diner. Our
sign was bigger than the other signs down the strip and teal blue with red
lettering. It never failed to make me laugh when I saw that sign, like it was
screaming to passers- by to pull off the road and come in.
    “What’s happening, Mrs.
Carlisle?” Only at that moment   did it
strike me that José must have called Vanessa ‘Mrs. Carlisle’ too.
    “I don’t know, José.”
    “The police are there?”
    “Yep. I wonder what happened.”
    “Would you like me to find out,
Mrs. Carlisle?” “Let’s find   out
together.” We walked together not speaking for about two hundred yards where
the commotion was. We approached Markus from the gas station first. He didn’t
see us walk up at all.
    “Hey, Markus.”
    “Oh, hey, Georgette. Can you
believe this?” “What