Wonder When You’ll Miss Me by Amanda Davis Page A

Charlie.
    He ate quickly and with great concentration—gusto, even. He used the corn bread to sop up the gravy on his plate and every so often he gave a satisfied grunt. “Mmmhmmm,” he said, and washed it all down with beer.
    He ate all of his and half of mine, which was okay with me, as it hadn’t taken much to fill me up. The beer and the sounds of the empty restaurant made me drowsy. It echoed with our movements and those of the wait staff in the booth behind us. Even the kitchen was quiet. The chef and the dishwasher sat at the bar nursing drinks.
    â€œIt ain’t a bad place to be,” Charlie said, looking at me with the sleepy eyes of a big meal finished quickly. “I’ve worked here a while and don’t have many complaints, you know. I don’t mind it so much and they’re good about letting me go when I need to.” He closed his eyes and let out a huge resounding belch that prompted groans, snorts, and giggles from the table behind us.
    â€œChuck, you are so nasty,” someone said.
    He grinned and tipped the last of his beer at me. “Hey, you were good tonight. You’ll work out just fine.”
    â€œThanks,” I said. It was the first he’d really addressed me, instead of just talking or teaching, and I warmed at his words.
    â€œI’m real happy to have a job,” I said.
    And something washed over me then, something warm and comfortable. I found myself wanting to tell him things, wanting to explain about leaving and ask his advice. But I kept quiet.
    â€œYou’ll do fine,” he said again. “Just fine.” And then he looked at me strangely, almost like he was seeing me for the first time. He shook his head and got up to clear our plates.
    Â 
    Outside Clark’s, the fat girl was perched on a wide concrete planter, smoking a cigarette. “Since when do you smoke?” I said. My head still spun from the night. I was deeply and thoroughly exhausted—even my bones felt heavy. The fat girl sneered, narrowed her eyes, and fell into step beside me.
    The evening was nippy and I wished I’d worn a coat, but I was too satisfied with the way things had gone to worry much about it. The voices of the restaurant swam through my head—laughter, orders, music, the clinking of glasses and scraping of forks against plates. I found myself grinning at things I’d overheard, and at Charlie’s praise.
    â€œHello,” the fat girl said.
    â€œWhat?” It came out harsher than I’d meant it. I kept walking. There were crickets chirping and from one of the small houses off in the distance I heard the laughter of a television. The fat girl’s hands were free and swung by her side. She marched along, not looking in my direction. Her voice was nasty and sharp.
    â€œSo you don’t feel like filling me in on your evening?”
    â€œWhat do you want to know?”
    â€œWhat do you think I might want to know?” She gave an angry grunt. “Why are you playing games with me? You know very well what I would want to know.”
    She stopped and grabbed me by the arm so that I jerked back.
    â€œOw.”
    I didn’t meet her eyes. Instead I watched the street and looked at the quiet houses streaming up the road, lit only by porch lights. I thought of all the people sleeping peacefully inside them. Dreaming dense, lovely, unworried things. My evening’s elation evaporated slowly, floating away on the chilly breeze.
    â€œListen,” I said, finally. “There’s not much to tell. You could have come inside if you were so interested.”
    â€œWould you have liked that, Faith?” She jerked my arm again, and I saw that her teeth were clenched. There were tears in her eyes.
    â€œWhat do you think I do for you, Faith?” She pounded her chest. “I protect you. I keep you as safe as I can. You can’t shut me out.” She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me to her. I was