Free Bobby's Diner by Susan Wingate

riled
up again and I knew I was no match for Vanessa when she was like this.
    “All I’m sayin’ is, I think
everyone would be happier   if…”
    “Oh, I get it.” She interrupted
me. “Now you’re thinking
    of everyone else’s happiness.
When she emphasized the word ‘now’ I knew what she was implying. I just raised
my hands with a surrendering motion. But, then I didn’t need to imply anything
after a second when she said, “Well, aren’t you the martyr. No, young lady. I
don’t know what your mother taught you. But, mine taught me ‘you make your bed,
you lay in it’! No. You’re not selling—I’m not selling. If you’re going to
atone you’ll do it with me breathing down your neck for the rest of your life.
Do you understand me?” She sounded like the momma I’d always dreamed of—hard,
but with a soft river running under her skin.
    “So, now you’re gonna tell me how
I’m gonna live out the rest of my life, is that it?”
    “Well, at least for today. We
have dinner to serve tonight.
    Get back to work!” She grabbed a
tea towel and snapped it at my ass. We would have the diner together for one
more night anyway.
    Vanessa loved being strong and
being in control and she grew an inch each time she took charge of a situation.
This was one way we differed. I admired her. I admired my dead husband’s
ex-wife.

 

 
 
    CHAPTER 13

 
    José had worked at the diner
since he was a young boy. He snuck in over the border as an illegal. But after
Vanessa got a hold of him, he got his citizenship papers and a green card, and
he   worked as a legitimate resident. At
the time, his entire family lived in Mexico. He would send money to them
monthly to help out. Bobby and I would clean out our closets annually and fill
boxes up with clothing we no longer wore. And, José would ship them down to his
mother and father, sisters and brothers, nieces and nephews.
    Bobby and Vanessa took José in
when he had no one else to turn to. He’d come up from Phoenix where immigration
laws were tightening like a noose around businesses who hired illegals. But, a
little more north in a small, out of the way town authorities just seemed to
look the other way. José was solid and dependable. He showed up   like clockwork. Vanessa taught him better
English than what he knew when he got to the states.
    Bobby and José always fantasized
about a garden in the back of the diner. Bobby even went so far as to buy a few
books to learn about vegetable gardens. He and José would draw out plans and
dream about the layout, the fresh food, the smells, all the stuff that comes
with having a garden. But, they never got around to it while he and Vanessa
were still married. After the divorce they had to hire an extra person for the
kitchen. So, when Bobby started building our garden, I told him I could help
him build the diner’s. Well, neither Bobby nor José had one extra second to
help, but they did it anyway. I worked early in the morning when the day was
cool and they would help out after their shifts even when the sun was scorching
hot. We finished the enclosure one Sunday   and Monday, built the potato bin the following Sunday and Monday. After
we rototilled the ground and turned the soil with   added organics we began setting stakes and putting
in raised   gardens, walkways around the
garden, we even added bloomers so we could have fresh-cut seasonal flowers on
the tables. The overall enclosure had two entrances. One entrance a person
could walk through and the other we could get a large piece of equipment
through it if need be. That entrance had a   double-gate. The single gate had a lovely arching arbor that we planted
Esparanza— the name of the plant means ‘hope’ in Spanish—to grow up and over
the structure. Hummingbirds   couldn’t
resist its yellow trumpet flowers but the deer wouldn’t touch it, when they
came around, that is. And, every so often I’d see a doe walking in the
distance. But, the noise