Betty Sue

On January 31, Betty Sue decided that she had definitely had a bad month so if things didn't get better the next day, the whole year would be a bad one.

That morning she had gotten up early to dye her roots ("Quit fryin' your hair, baby," said John every time she said she could use a touch-up) and had forgotten to take the plug out of the bathtub when she rinsed the color out. When she looked down at her feet, happy that she could see them again, she realized that she was standing in cloudy orange water with dark red clumps like menstrual blood swirling around her thick ankles.

She sat on the bed wearing a pink towel around her middle and a yellow towel wrapped in a turban around her head. She examined the peeling coral polish on her fingernails and crossed her legs, scowling at her thighs.

"We should move," she said to her sleeping husband. "I can't take this place any more. I think I'm going to quit today."

John rolled over and said "Ok, baby. Get me some beer on your way home, ok? And don't get none of that lite stuff."

Betty Sue put on new nylons for good luck. She applied red lipstick on her way to Waffle House and blew herself a kiss in the rear view mirror before she got out of the car. She locked her blue '57 Beetle and twirled the keychain around her finger as she walked through the parking lot.

As she stuffed her purse under the counter, Linda, who was just finishing her very early morning shift, grinned at her with a smile as toothless as a newborn's. "I don't know when I've seen you so happy. Had a good night, huh?" she leered.

"Oh yeah," said Betty Sue, halfheartedly playing along. "He was a tiger."

"I know you ain't talking about John. Who's your new man?"

"Go home, Linda. I'm not in the mood."

"Hmph," said Linda. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it as she walked past Betty Sue, out the door, and to her faded yellow Beetle.

This morning the restaurant was almost empty. The only people there were a boothfull of Exxon men wearing matching shirts and waiting for their #1 All-Star Specials and a young woman reading and sipping black coffee. One of the Exxon men smiled at her and for a second she seriously considered asking him to follow her back to the kitchen where she can rip off his striped name-tag shirt.

"Hey Joe!" she yelled to the cook, "get these men's food out here." She turned to the girl who was pretending to be reading while secretly looking at the Exxon men. "You need anything, hon?" asked Betty Sue.

The girl looked up. "What?"

"You need anything? More coffee?"

"No. No thank you. Maybe later."

"Ok. Just yell if you want something."

"All right," said the girl, "I will." She started reading again, and poured more sugar into her dwindling cup of coffee. After she finished the page, she squinted at her cup, stirred, and licked the sugar crystals off the spoon.

Betty Sue walked back to the kitchen and watched Joe cook sausage patties.

"Know what?" she said, "I'm gonna quit today. I'm gonna get a real job. Maybe work at the mall."

"Uhm."

"I mean, where's this going? In twenty years am I gonna be lookin' back sayin' 'Those years at Waffle House, they were good. Those were the best years of my life'? I hope not."

"Uhm," said Joe again.

"What? What's with you today?"

"My boy got locked up again. Armed robbery this time. It doesn't look good."

"I'm so sorry," said Betty Sue, trying to care about the tattooed freak she'd met only once, when he jammed the jukebox by putting in 25 pennies.

"Yeah. He'd probably be a good kid if his momma hadn't left. I don't think it's her fault, though. More mine for making her go. Here." He handed her the massive breakfasts, which she balanced on her arms on the way back out of the kitchen.

The girl was gone, but Betty Sue filled her empty coffee cup anyway. She gave the Exxon men their food and thought about waiting for their tip, which she knew would be substantial, but decided against it and walked out.

She was at her car, fishing her keys out of her pocked when she realized that Joe would probably take the blame for the bad service if she left. She knew he wouldn't be able to manage the place alone, no matter how empty it was. "After she leaves I'm gone. Good-bye. Fare thee well, Waffle House," she said as she turned around and walked back in, using the sleeves of her sweater to avoid touching the sticky doors.