16 comments/ 27674 views/ 29 favorites Things Get Better By: sweetnymphomania This is my first story. I want readers to vote and comment, just keep that little bit of info in mind. To my editor, Ben: You are an angel for putting up with my shit and slight-perfectionism. Without your help, this story would suck. To my readers: This is going to be several chapters and a slow build-up. In other words, this ain't a quick fuck. If that's what you want, go somewhere else. There isn't even any sex at all in this first chapter. If you're into the characters and their story, then I think this will be for you. At least, I hope so. * The book bag slung over Shirley's shoulder drooped lower and lower with each step she took. The work from her seventh grade classes was weighing it down. She passed a group of teens standing in a group on the cracked sidewalk smoking what was very likely a not cigarette. They were laughing at vapors and clowns that only they could see. Judging by the smell, Shirley guessed it was pot. "Hey Shirl. Wanna puff?" one of them asked before he fell on his ass. "Fuck off." She kept walking, ignoring their laughter. Shirley had to get home soon so she could get to studying. She had a big test coming up in Social Studies. As she walked Shirley thought back to why she was always working so hard. It was all for her mom. Shirley's mom died when she was a toddler. Every day Shirley spent time to replay memories of her in her mind to ensure that she never forgot her. Her mother had been wonderful despite their situation. She was a popular prostitute with many kids in her broken down apartment. She tried to keep her line of business from her children by introducing her customers as their uncles. Needless to say, they had a lot of uncles. When she wasn't working, Shirley's mother made time to care for her children. She loved to read stories to them, watch cartoons and play games with them, and take them places. One day, Child Services came by. Apparently the dilapidated apartment the family lived in wasn't good enough and there were too many children. It didn't matter how good of a mother she was. Shirley remembered all the crying and screaming that had gone on when Child Services came to take them away. Shirley had managed to hide in a kitchen cabinet and waited until everything grew quite. She had opened the door and looked around. Shirley could still see the mess that had greeted her. Furniture was turned over, glass from some unknown source was strewn across the floor along with various debris. In the middle of it all, curled up in a ball on the floor, was Shirley's mother. Everything was deathly silent as Shirley made her way over to her. Shirley had touched her shoulder and her mother had looked at her with tears streaming down her face. When she saw Shirley, she grabbed her and held her tightly against her chest as she sobbed. Shirley remembered what her mother always said, "You've got to do what you've got to do. Sometimes it sucks ass, but it's got to be done." That had become Shirley's motto, too. When her mother died from AIDS, Shirley was sent to live with her aunt and uncle. Her real uncle, that is. They resented having to care for her and never made it a secret how much they hated her. Shirley almost forgot when her birthday was, because they never even mentioned it. The last time Shirley received a gift, a hug, or even a few kind words was when her mother was still alive. Shirley sighed and adjusted the book bag on her shoulder. She was almost home. Shirley had been to see Dr. Mendhelson yesterday on her way home from school. She had a bad feeling she was pregnant. A blood test was taken and Dr. Mendhelson said he would call as soon as the results came back. Shirley walked towards the front steps of her house. The door flew open to show the murderous looks on her aunt and uncle's faces. "Get out and never come back. This isn't a whorehouse," her aunt spat at her. Shit. He called...I am pregnant. Shirley mentally shook herself. She'd deal with that later. "You're kicking me out just because I'm pregnant?" Her aunt glared at her. "If you weren't fucking your teachers to get good grades, then you wouldn't be pregnant." Shirley felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. She earned those grades with hard work and countless hours of studying. She'd never have sex with one of her teachers or anyone else to get anything. Shirley glared back at her aunt, fighting hard to keep her anger in check. Shirley ground her teeth together, her voice coming out strained. "I told you what happened." Her aunt's laugh was a sharp and unpleasant rebuke. "You expect us to believe that?" Her uncle snapped, "You made that pathetic rape story up so we wouldn't kick you out. It won't work. If we kept you, by the time you graduated and left, babies would be climbing out the windows. Like mother like daughter." Calm down. He's just trying to make you angry, Shirley told herself. Her uncle continued, "By getting rid of you we're saving ourselves hundreds of dollars." Shirley cut her uncle off. "You can't even wait for me to have the baby?" Again, her aunt laughed at her derisively. Her uncle sneered. "Of course not." Her uncle said. The condemnation in his tone was unmistakable "The sooner we get rid of a slut like you the better. You didn't think we actually cared about you, did you?" They laughed as though the best joke in the world had just been told. Shirley reminded herself that murder was against the law and that giving birth in a prison was no way to bring a child into the world. Fine, she thought as she walked away. I'll do it all by myself. Nothing new there. As she walked down the street with her book bag slung over her shoulder and a baby just beginning to grow in her stomach, Shirley started making plans. Inside her back pocket was the $125 she managed to save over the past six months performing odd jobs in the neighborhood. Shirley always carried it just in case she should get thrown out on the street by those assholes. Her first course of action was to walk a few blocks and then wait to catch the next bus. Shirley figured that she could ride it to the next city, or maybe even farther. Once she got to a likely city, she would find a homeless shelter to live in until she had enough money saved up for something more permanent. Next, she would find a job. All she had to do was lie about her age. Whether anyone believed her wouldn't matter. Nobody would be able to check up on her. Nor would anyone pass on the opportunity to wring long hours of work out of her and cheat her on her pay. As long as they didn't cheat her too much, she'd have to accept whatever she was offered. Shirley sat down on the cast iron, bus stop bench and placed a hand on her stomach. It was scary to think that a child was growing inside of her. Shirley was only twelve years old and had just been kicked out of her home. Sure the place had sucked, but it was all she had. Now it was gone. She didn't have any friends or family to help her. She didn't have an income or a place to live, didn't know what giving birth was like, and she hadn't even been given a choice about getting pregnant or losing her virginity. Shirley had been raped. Her virginity had been taken from her. "Getting on?" Shirley jumped. She hadn't heard the bus pull up. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to hide her fears. She learned early on to never let anyone see when you're afraid. Shirley paid her fare and took a seat on the nearly empty bus. She looked through the glass as sceneries flew past her window, without seeing anything at all. All she had was the useless schoolwork in her book bag, the money in her pocket, the child in her belly, and herself. Shirley took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. You've got to do what you've got to do. Sometimes it sucks ass, but it's got to be done. She wasn't the only one relying on herself anymore. Whether she was ready for parenthood did not matter; it was going to happen. For the sake of her child, she knew she must to build something out of the rubble that was now her life. Only Death himself could stand in her way. And if he was reckless enough to try, he damn well better be ready for the fight of his life. --------------------------------- ~ 8 months later ~ A very pregnant Shirley tied a white apron around her pink uniform and pinned her name tag on. She was now thirteen and due very soon. She was working in Diner Fever as a waitress and, four blocks down the main road, at Sleepy Hollow as a maid. The diner gave her a pay check. The motel gave her a place to live. Wherever she went, people leered at her when they thought she couldn't see and whispered when they thought she couldn't hear. The incessant hatefulness hurt, but she trained herself to ignore it. She let the assholes think whatever they wanted. It was easier than telling everyone the truth. Shirley made her way to her first table, which sat a group of lanky teenagers. "My name is Shirley and I'll be your waitress today. The—" Laughter and a few whistles filled the air. "Aren't you a little young to be getting busy?" said the bastard with dreads. More laughs. Shirley sighed. She had become inured to this sort of behavior. Refusing to let the jackasses get to her, she rattled off the house specials from memory. "Can I get you anything else?" "I'd say yes, but it seems someone already got it!" The table erupted in laughter. Shirley took a deep breath, telling herself to calm down. Lashing back would solve nothing. Neither would crying—not that she'd ever let any of her antagonists see her cry—or saying something smart. She simply replied, "I meant something to drink." They cracked more jokes about their waddling waitress the moment she left to turn their orders in to the kitchen. As always, the taunting hurt and made her want to cry. However, she was determined to never let anyone see her fear or her pain. You've got to do what you've got to do. Sometimes it sucks ass, but it's got to be done. Being unemployed while giving birth was a nightmare she would avoid at any cost. For the sake of her child, she would do her job showing nothing but professionalism, no matter how many of these jackasses she was required to serve. --------------------------------- ~ 3 weeks later ~ An exhausted Shirley lay in her bed at the motel, holding her newborn son. She had to give birth in the cramped confines of a dimly lit motel room because she couldn't afford to go to the hospital. The motel manager Mr. Cross stood over her bed, looking down on mother and child. Disgust was written plainly across his face. "You're paying for those sheets." Mr. Cross informed her. Shirley nodded, making no attempt at trying to speak. Having no medical insurance, not to mention the money it takes to fill a prescription even if she did, she had been forced to endure the labors of childbirth without pain killers of any kind. "You're lucky I got that doctor in." She nodded again and wondered why she had never noticed before how much energy such a simple gesture consumed. "You'll be paying for him." Once again, Shirley nodded without saying a word. Mr. Cross left them completely alone then, grumbling something along the lines of, "What's this world coming to?" as he made his way out of the room. When he reached the threshold, Shirley picked out the words, "pregnant children" before the door slammed shut and he was gone. But she couldn't bring herself to care. She was too worn out. The new mother watched as her new son slept in her arms. She knew she would fall asleep soon and didn't want to risk dropping him. Summoning more strength than she knew she could, Shirley rolled onto her side and laid him alongside of her. That single movement exhausted her, pushing her ever closer to sleep. She rested her hand on her sleeping son's stomach and watched him as her eyelids fought with her to close. She had more now than she had when she'd been forced to leave home. She had a paycheck, a place to live, and she even had a few friends. However, she still wasn't ready to be a mother. It didn't matter, it happened anyway. You've got to do what you've got to do. Sometimes it sucks ass, but it's got to be done. For the sake of her son, she was going to give him everything she never had, the most of which was a happy childhood. Her last conscious thought was, He looks like an Andy. --------------------------------- ~ 6 years later ~ Shirley walked into her motel room and reached behind her to untie her apron while silently wishing her headache would disappear. The room's furnishings consisted of two beds, one for her and one for her son, two tables, and a tiny bathroom. It was impersonal and looked nothing like a place where a child was being raised. However, the cold room was better than nothing, which was their alternative. "Mommy! Mommy!" Andy came running up to her with a book in his hand. Shirley hung her apron on the back of the door and kneeled down to hug her son. He pulled away and looked into her face, "You finished your shift early." She smiled at him, "I wanted to tuck you in tonight." "Yay!" Shirley could see his two missing teeth when Andy smiled at her. But then, she could also see them when Andy was not in the same room or even on the same city block. Right now, though, Andy was grinning and jumping up and down in front of her as if he'd just been given the greatest gift in the world. He grabbed his mother's hand with both of his small ones and pulled her to his bed behind him. His book lay forgotten on the floor. Andy jumped onto his bed and crawled under the sheets while his smiling mother sat on the edge of the bed. Shirley usually got home too late to tuck her little boy in bed, and missing out on such an important task killed her. When Andy got home from first grade, he usually ate the dinner she left for him, did his homework, took a bath, read a book, and was asleep by the time she finished her shift in the motel. She felt horrible for not being able to do those things with him, but she had to earn money or they'd be on the streets. She tucked the sheets around his little body and kissed his forehead. Before Shirley stood up, Andy reached out, grabbed her head, and pushed his lips against her cheek, giving her a sloppy kiss. Shirley laughed and ruffled his dirty blond hair. "I love you." "I love you too, Mommy." "Good night, honey." "Good night, Mommy." She stood and walked over to the bathroom door, turning the light in the main room out and picking up his book and placing it on a table as she went. "Mommy?" Andy said hesitantly. Shirley turned to face him in the dark, "Yes?" "Why don't I have a daddy?" Shirley's breath left her body in a rush. Andy was looking at her and waiting for an answer. What could she say? She couldn't tell him the truth. He was only six years old. What the hell could she say? She walked over to him and sat back down on the bed, glad the darkness was hiding her face somewhat. She picked up his hand and ran her fingers over it while she gathered herself to think of an answer. "Sometimes adults fall out of love with one another," she answered hesitantly, hoping it was the correct thing to say. "Your daddy fell out of love with me and left." She risked a glance at her son's little face and saw it scrunched up in thought as he considered her words. "Did he love me?" Damnit! What do you say to that?! If she told him yes, he may one day want to find him. What would she do then? If she told him no—she couldn't tell him his daddy didn't love him. That would be far too cruel. She sighed and said the only thing she could think of, "I don't know, honey. I just don't know." Andy nodded. Shirley felt as if she had just aged decades. She moved to the door again. "Mommy?" Please, not again. "Yes?" "Daddy was stupid to fall out of love with you." Shirley smiled and tears sprang to her eyes. "Thank you, honey. I love you." "I love you too, Mommy." "Good night." "Good night, Mommy." Shirley stood in the shower with the water so hot it turned her skin bright red. She washed her hair while she thought. Andy's response still had her feeling giddy. She chuckled. Daddy was stupid to fall out of love with you. Those were now the sweetest words she could ever imagine anyone saying. Her good mood didn't last long after she recalled who had really given her Andy and how. That memory led to thoughts of where they were and why she had come home early. She felt she was a failure as a mother. Andy didn't even know how to ride a bike because she couldn't afford to buy one. Shirley tossed her head back into the spray and rinsed her hair, running her fingers through her locks. She sighed and thought. You've got to do what you've got to do. Sometimes it sucks ass, but it's got to be done. For the sake of her son, she'd find some way to ensure he had the opportunity to learn things every child should know, such as how to ride a bike. --------------------------------- ~ 12 years later ~ Shirley shut the door to her motel room, staggered over to her bed, and fell across it. She heard a laugh and rolled over to glare at her son. "Tired?" he teased. "Just 'cause you're eighteen doesn't mean I can't take you across my knee." He laughed and bent down to dig in the book bag lying at his feet. When he came back up, he had a textbook in his hands. The moment Shirley saw it she groaned. "Can't you take pity on your poor old mother just once?" she said, earning another laugh. "First, thirty-one isn't old. Second, this isn't torture." "Says you." Shirley mumbled. Andy ignored her and continued. "Third, no." "What did I ever do to make you so cruel?" She covered her eyes with her arm. Andy laughed his reply, "It's not that bad." "It is after a hard day's work." Andy, once again, chose to ignore her objection. Instead, he showed her the textbook again. "Now come on." Shirley sighed, sat up, and leaned against the pillows as though they were the only things holding her together. Andy had been teaching her the things he learned in school ever since he reached the seventh grade. It was his idea, and he was adamant about her getting a high school education one way or another. She had never been able to talk him out of a day's lesson, and today didn't look to be any different. After working at 7-Eleven for nine and a half straight hours, she didn't have the strength to argue with the boy. "What's today's lesson?" she asked hollowly, suddenly longing for the days when Andy's work was little more than drawing scatterplots and memorizing the seven basic characteristics of life. "Chemistry AP." Shirley groaned. "Why couldn't I have had a normal son? Is having a boy who wants to play football too much to ask for? Why did I have to get a genius who wants to be a chemical engineer? Who the fuck wants to be a chemical engineer?" Andy laughed. He knew his mother was only teasing him. When he told her what he wanted to go to college for she was speechless for hours. When her ability to form coherent sentences returned, she asked him if he was serious. When he said yes, she told him she'd be proud of him no matter what he did. She was amazed and impressed that he wanted to give such a hard career a shot. Shirley sighed, running a weary hand through her dark brown hair. The sooner I get this over with, she told herself. "Fine. Shoot." Andy proceeded to teach her about covalent and ionic bonds, and then he gave her a test on the material. "And here's yesterday's test on Government History." Things Get Better Shirley winced as she took the test from Andy's hand, expecting the worst. Then she looked at her grade and froze. "That can't be right!" "Congratulations, Mom. I told you, you could do it. You got an A." "I never made an A before." Andy shrugged, he was grinning ear to ear. "There's a first time for everything." Shirley opened her mouth to say something, but Andy stopped her. "No, I didn't," Andy denied, having anticipated his mother's unspoken protest. "That's your real grade, and you earned it." Shirley smiled. I got an A! she said to herself, as if voicing the words in her mind might somehow make her believe them. She sat there and stared at her grade for a little while. "Time for dinner." Shirley decided as she motioned to push herself up from her bed, but she was stopped by Andy's restraining hand. "I already picked it up and I'll get it. You need to rest. You look like shit." Shirley smiled at him. "Thanks honey." Andy made his way over to the table with a bag on top. He reached in and pulled out two cartons of slightly warm and very greasy Chinese food. Grabbing two plastic forks from the bag and a few napkins, he handed his mother her share before sitting on his bed to eat his own. They ate in silence. Shirley knew exactly what was going on in her son's head without his saying a word. Her happiness over her grade waned as she thought about their situation. What her son was thinking of was the only thing they ever truly fought about. As much as she wanted to avoid an argument, she felt she should say something. "Would you rather starve and live on the street?" "Mom, quitting one of your jobs isn't going to put us out on the street." Andy's voice was laced with tension. "No. But if I did, we'd have to cut down on expenses and couldn't afford food." "You don't have to work five jobs." She could tell he was struggling to control his frustration. "Yes I do." "No you don't. You could let me help." "You are helping. Your pay goes to your college fund so mine doesn't have to." It was a lie and they both knew it. His money did go to his college fund, but so did a good portion of hers. "You know what I mean." "And you know what I mean." They stared at one another while their meal grew cold. The uncomfortable silence between them lingered until dinner was over and cleaned up. "Can't you at least take some time off?" he pleaded. That made her smile. She walked over to her son and kissed his forehead. "Good night, sweetie." After taking a cold shower (so Andy could have a hot one) and brushing her teeth, Shirley examined herself in the mirror. She didn't like what she saw. Her hazel eyes were tired and had wrinkles at the corners. Her hair showed unwanted hints of gray. "I guess things do take their toll." Shirley whispered to herself. She shook her head to clear it and crawled into bed. Shirley was exhausted and had a headache (again). She only had five hours to sleep before her next shift. --------------------------------- Shirley collected her tip, stuffed it in her apron pocket, and wiped off the table. She glanced at the clock. One twenty-three. She had three hours of waitressing before she got off to start her shift at the motel. Her stomach rumbled. The lunch rush had left her no time to eat. She glanced around and saw the place was empty, save for the couple a few tables down and two waitresses sitting at the counter reading People. Shirley walked into the kitchen. A man was washing the dishes; a few cooks were cleaning the counters; and the head cook, Carl, was leaning against a counter watching the small TV in the corner. A commercial for diapers was flashing across the screen, and Shirley felt nothing but relief that Andy no longer needed those damned things. "Do you think you could fix something for me to eat, Carl?" The overweight and bald cook turned away from the TV and laughed. He walked toward the stove, "About time you ate. What is it? Three o'clock?" Shirley scoffed, "Hardly. One twenty-three. And don't give me that bullshit about not eating. We can't all shovel it in by the truckload every chance we damn well get." That earned a bellow of a laugh. Carl pat his belly and pouted at her. "I can't help it. No one trusts a skinny chef." Shirley rolled her eyes. "You wanna get to making whatever grease ball you've got in mind for me? It may have skipped your notice, but I don't have all day." He held his hands out in surrender. "Alright, alright. Just let the master work." She leaned against the counter by the window that looked into the diner so she could see if any customers entered. "How does a..." "Whatever you make, it's got to be quick." Carl gave her a fake glare. He turned back to the stove and muttered just loud enough for Shirley to hear, "Rushing genius, damned bitch." She laughed. They were always joking around like this. Carl was one of the few friends she had. Her friends, Carl included, were always giving her a hard time about working too much. The difference between Carl and the rest of her friends was that he made it into a joke, whereas the others told her, 'If you don't take it easy, you'll die before you reach forty.' Shirley knew her friends meant well, but it got tiring, especially since there was nothing she could do about how much she worked. She and Andy were barely getting by as it was with her working five jobs. If she were to cut back, she didn't want to imagine where they would be. She had to work even harder now. Andy would be graduating from Gower High this year and she was scrambling to add as much last minute money to his college fund as she could. Andy graduates this year. What the hell will I do then? Carl was flipping a burger over on the grill. "Should I take it through the garden and pin a rose on it?" Shirley laughed. Carl never failed to use diner lingo once he'd discovered it made her laugh. Taking it through the garden and pinning a rose on it meant a hamburger with lettuce, tomato, and onion. "Nah. Make it a C.B." In other words, she wanted a cheeseburger. "Any frog sticks with that?" Shirley giggled. That was one of her favorites. "Sure, French fries would be good." Carl served it up and placed it in front of her. "Want a flowing Mississippi?" Shirley smiled at him. She could never figure out why she found diner lingo so funny. But she was more of a mind for iced tea instead of coffee. "Make it an English winter." "Whatever you say." Carl winked at her, pleased with himself for making her relax. Shirley finished her lunch. The bell above the door chimed to signal that another customer walked into the diner. "Let's hope it's not a George Eddy." Shirley rolled her eyes at the idea of waiting on yet another customer who never leaves a tip. "He'd better not be," she said, with a smile far too practiced to abandon her now. --------------------------------- John sat in his favorite chair and turned on the TV. He was thankful for this day off. The office had been pretty crazy as of late. He owned and worked in a clinic called Family Health. He had slept until eleven this morning and was planning to kick back and relax for the rest of the day. His German Shepard lay at his side. John sighed, "This is the life, huh Jackson?" The dog wagged his tail and lifted his head to look at him. John leaned down and ruffled the fur on the top of the dog's head. "Glad to have me home, boy?" John was answered with a harder tail wag and a deep bark. John laughed. Jackson was big and, more often than not, scared people away. But John knew his dog was nothing but a great big softie. In many ways they were alike. They were both big, strong, quiet, and loving. They were both picky in whom they liked, but once they developed a friendship with someone, they were protective and loyal. John was searching for a show to watch when his phone rang. "Hello?" "Hey, Swift! How they hanging?" His best friend Bobby's voice came through the other end. "Better than you! What's going on?" The two had been best friends for their whole lives, a fact which surprised many. Bobby was loud and, for someone who was lanky and weak, picked an awful lot of fights. However, he was always willing to help a friend in need, no matter what. "Just finished poppin' some girl's cherry," he joked. "Since you've got the day off, do you want to get some lunch? I know a great place to eat. It's called Diner Fever." "I've heard of that place. It's supposed to be pretty popular." "So, what do you say?" "I'll see you there." A little while later, John and Bobby were walking into Diner Fever. It was a typical old-fashioned retro diner: shiny with neon lights. Tables lined the front wall by the door, a few small booths were located along the side wall, and the bar was complete with red bar stools. The kitchen staff could be seen working through an open window behind the bar. The diner was empty except for a customer giving his order to an older waitress while two teenaged waitresses gawked at a magazine by the bar. John and Bobby sat down at a table and waited to be served. "Heads up! New customers," one of the teenagers shouted without looking up from the magazine. The waitress taking the man's order sighed loudly. "I see that. Can't one of you take care of them?" One of the girls responded, "Why should we? We're still on our break. Besides, you're the one so desperate for money." The waitress taking the order glared back at her. She finished the man's order and walked behind the counter to call through the window. "The George Eddy wants a Coney Island all the way, but cut the grass and drown one with hail." For some reason the woman started to smile when saying all of that, whatever it was. "Carl! Cut the bending." Carl shouted back, "I'm not a bender!" "Like shit you ain't. Now get on that order." Carl laughed as Shirley headed to the new customers' table. "What can I get you?" Bobby, an incorrigible flirt, smiled while looking her up and down. "A couple of menus might be nice." Shirley rolled her eyes then pulled two menus from her apron pockets. "I would've thought you'd have it memorized by now." "Nope. I have better things to look at when I come here," Bobbly said, looking her up and down again. Although John felt bad for the woman, he couldn't quite blame Bobby for gawking. She was beautiful. Her pink uniform came just below the knee and her high heels showed off her smooth and shapely calves. Her rich, dark brown hair was starting to gray a little and was pulled back into a tight bun at the base of her neck. Her hazel eyes were slightly blood shot, but they had long black lashes. Her lips were full and naturally red. "You keep that up and I'll tell Carl to poison your food." "Order up!" came from the kitchen and Shirley left to serve her other customer. John looked at his friend. "Now I know why you like this place so much." Bobby grinned and winked. "Great food and a great view." John shook his head and told his friend to take it easy on the poor woman. She looked worked to death. Bobby consented with a shrug. "Any idea what they were saying?" John asked while trying to decide what to get. "You mean what she shouted into the kitchen? That was just diner talk. It's easy." Just then Shirley returned to take their orders. John asked for a hamburger with lettuce and tomato and a Coke. Then Bobby ordered. "Give me a bottomed Adam's ale and a flatcar with hope." He sounded like he knew what he talking about. However, Shirley smiled wickedly and said, "You got it. Want a vanilla or a chocolate bottom?" "Make it a chocolate." "Whatever you say." Shirley walked away to give the kitchen their orders. "Burn one and take it through the garden, but don't make it breathe and drown one." Then that evil looking grin spread across her lips again, "I need a chocolate bottomed Adam's ale and a flatcar with hope." After she called out Bobby's order Carl's head stuck out of the kitchen to stare incredulously at her. He was wearing a hair net even though he was bald. "You sure you got that order right?" he asked. Shirley shrugged, her smile still firmly in place. "That's what he asked for, Carl." Carl's eyebrows knitted together. "Okay." Bobby wasn't the least bit worried. He had a tendency to be clueless and it never would have occurred to him that his order could be a bit off. John, on the other hand, couldn't wait to see what his friend had ordered. The reactions of the waitress and the cook promised something good. When Shirley delivered their food, both men stared speechlessly at Bobby's meal. It was a glass of water with a scoop of chocolate ice cream at the bottom and pork chops topped with oatmeal. The ice cream was melting in the water and the oatmeal was slowly forming a tiny puddle on the side of the pork chops. Bobby's jaw dropped. He looked at Shirley, unable to believe it. "That's what you ordered," she said before dissolving into giggles while John laughed with her. "I can't eat that!" "Then why did you order it?" John laughed. Bobby glared at him, "Whose side are you on, man?" Shirley managed between giggles, "Look. I'll get you what you want if you order normally, but you'll still have to pay for that shit." Bobby opened his mouth to complain. "You ordered it, the kitchen made it, I brought it. If it makes you feel any better, I can't remember the last time I laughed like that." Bobby groaned. "Get me a hot dog with relish and a beer." "Hey Carl!" Shirley shouted while walking to the kitchen. "Our soup jockey wants to order something else." She passed the failed dish through the window. "Get him a bow-wow with grass and some beetle blood." --------------------------------- John made a point of it to eat all his lunches at Diner Fever ever since the day Bobby made such a fool of himself ordering in diner-speak. Bobby, on the other hand, was still embarrassed and made it a point not to go there as often as he used to. Something about the way that waitress Shirley had given Bobby exactly what he had asked for had John wanting to get to know her. She always looked bone weary, she cussed a lot, and she was blunt. But there was something about her. John liked the way she smiled whenever she gave orders to the kitchen in that strange code. Her smile came easily. John's lunch hour coincided with the noontime rush, so he didn't get a chance to talk to her that often. It took him the better part of a month to memorize the segment of her schedule that mattered. She worked in the diner on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday. He didn't know for how long. All he knew was that whenever he stopped by on those days for lunch she was always there and on any of the other days, she wasn't. John took a Monday off and waited until one-thirty before going to the diner. He was hoping that the rush would be over and he could talk to Shirley and get to know her better. He was happy to find the place empty except for Shirley and the other two waitresses. John sat down at his usual table and smiled when Shirley came over. "Want the usual, John?" "No. I'll take a coffee and...I guess a grilled cheese with bacon." "Carl!" She hollered at the kitchen. "Yeah?" Carl stuck his head out. He was still wearing his hair net. "A java and a Jack Benny!" "Coming up!" "You wanna talk?" John asked before Shirley went back to cleaning tables. "I guess. What about?" Shirley sat down across from him and his mind went blank; he hadn't thought that far ahead. Come on, man! Think! "Why do you smile when you call out orders?" Shit! That was dumb! Now she's gonna know you've been watching her! John mentally kicked himself. Why am I so nervous around her? Shirley gave him a confused look. "I do?" "Well, I mean, I've...uh...noticed it a few times." You're a regular Cary Grant. "I guess it's 'cause I think it's funny," she shrugged. "I think so too," he said, kicking himself for sounding so foolish. "What's your favorite?" Shirley smiled at him, "Frog sticks. That's French fries." "Frog sticks?" She held her hands up, "Don't ask me. I just use 'em. I don't invent 'em." John laughed. "Any idea how they came up with those names?" "Actually, I thought it was pretty obvious." Shirley shrugged. "Just sit around getting high and smashed and see what you come up with." John raised an eyebrow. "Is that their secret?" She smiled. "Let me ask you this. How else do you see 'ant paste' when you look at chocolate pudding?" "Touché." Shirley yawned. "Sorry. I didn't get much sleep." "If you don't mind me asking, why are you always so tired?" "I work. A lot." "Do you have to work quite so many hours?" Shirley closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Great. You said something wrong and now you're on thin ice. "I have my son to look after." John felt the air leave his lungs. If she had a son, she might have a boyfriend or even be married. Why hadn't that occurred to him? She probably had tons of men trying to date her. "What?" She asked him. His face must have shown his surprise. "I, um...are you married?" Shirley looked shocked. "No." Great! "Boyfriend?" She shook her head no. John was relieved. He hadn't thought about trying to date her until it occurred to him that she might have a husband or boyfriend. But she was single and, if he was lucky, she might want to go out with him. The more he thought about dating her, the more he liked the idea. She was funny, drop-dead gorgeous, nice, and there was just something about her. John realized he'd been quiet for too long. "What's your son's name?" Something in her face softened when she replied. "Andy. I'm his mother so I'm biased, but he's the greatest." John smiled. She obviously loved him very much. He opened his mouth to ask another question but was cut off. "Order up!" came the cry from the kitchen, and Shirley dutifully hurried off to retrieve it. She returned with his food, and then she turned to leave. "Wait! We can still talk while I eat, can't we?" She smiled and sat back down. "What about?" "Your son. I want to know all about him," John replied honestly. She chuckled. "You don't want me to go on and on about him, trust me." "Sorry, but I do." "Just remember, it's your funeral. He loves basketball and has been saving up to buy tickets to the upcoming Celtics game. When he was little, he'd go over to his best friend's house for a sleepover and they'd play basketball until they couldn't see the ball." "Sounds great. What's his favorite team?" "Atlanta Hawks." "Cool. They're doing pretty well. He must be proud." "He is. You like basketball?" "A little. I'm not a big fan or anything, but I keep abreast of the standings." And then he froze the moment he realized he'd just said 'abreast' to a woman. Shirley instantly noticed the change in his demeanor and burst into laughter. John chuckled nervously, afraid that he had just made a fool out of himself. "Well, Andy would cure you of that. The boy is crazy about the game. You know what? Just crazy in general. The kid wants to be a chemical engineer?" She laughed again. "Wow. A chemical engineer...that's impressive. How old is this kid?" "Eighteen." What?! There is no way she's old enough to have an eighteen year old son. She noticed the look on his face and sighed. "I'm thirty-one, my son is eighteen. You do the math. Yes, he's mine. And no, I sure as hell don't regret having him," she said. John tried to make peace. "I'm sorry. I was just a little surprised." "I just get defensive. People can be very cruel and hateful." Something about the way she said it and looked off into the distance made John realize she must have been through Hell itself. Things Get Better "Don't worry....A chemical engineer, huh?" Shirley laughed as that softness found its way back, "Yeah. I couldn't believe it." "I'll bet. A basketball-playing chemical engineer." "Yeah. A straight-A student, handsome, and an all-around great guy." "Is he human?" She laughed. "Yep. He's just one of those guys that seem completely perfect until you get to know him." "And then?" "And then you find out he's more perfect than you thought. Except for the fact that I can't get that boy to remember to put the toilet seat down and put a new roll of toilet paper in the bathroom when it gets low." John laughed at her joke. "It sounds like you did a good job raising him, no matter how young you were." Shirley beamed at him. "Thanks." John was having trouble breathing. God, she's breath-taking. He tried to cover it up by drinking, but she was still beaming at him. "What do you do for a living?" John smiled, relieved for something new to talk about. "I'm a doctor." That surprised her. "Really? What the fuck is a doctor doing eating at this place? It's not exactly health food," she teased. John laughed. "It's a nice place and cheap." He thought about adding 'And I like the way you say fuck' then scolded himself for even thinking it. Why did Shirley turn him into a... a... for lack of a better word, a love-sick puppy any time she was around? 'And I like the way you say fuck.' How pathetic can you get? Shirley nodded. "I guess I can see your point. And I like having you around. You're an amazing tipper," she teased him. "You want to go on a date with me?" Shit! It had just popped out. Shirley looked just as surprised as he did. "What?" John swallowed. No backing down now. "Would you like to go on a date with me?" Shirley raised an eyebrow. "A doctor is asking a waitress on a date?" John shrugged, "There's no law against it, as far as I know. I like you and would like to try dating you, if you would." "You're shittin' me." "No." He smiled and tried backing her into a corner, "Is there a reason you don't want to go out with me?" It didn't work. "I'm not exactly rich." John shrugged. He really wanted to go out with this woman, but she didn't seem to feel the same. "Money isn't everything." "You've always had money haven't you?" That surprised him. Sure, he had always had money. His whole family was filthy, fucking rich. "Yes." "Then trust me. Money means a hell of a lot." John's spirits hit rock bottom. "Is that a no?" Shirley was quiet. She chewed on her bottom lip, deciding. As she thought, her lip kept slipping out from under her teeth, only to be sucked back in. The lip reddened, and now it was starting to swell. "One date. We'll see what we think after that." John breathed a sigh of relief, "Where do you want to go?" "First, I have to find time off. My schedule is pretty packed." "Here." John grabbed a napkin and pulled out a pen. He wrote his number on the napkin and slid it across the table to Shirley. "Give me a call so we can decide where and when." He was going on a date with Shirley. John was sure that winning the lottery couldn't have felt better. --------------------------------- Shirley was home alone. Andy was studying for a big test with his best friend Chris, and she had just finished her last shift of the day. She was sitting on her bed debating what to do. Her hands opened and closed around the fresh sheets as she stared at her crossed legs. She was putting off calling John. She couldn't figure out why he wanted to go out with her. She wasn't pretty, smart, and she didn't have money. She wasn't even good company. Her only real selling point was that she was hard working. John's attraction to her didn't make any sense. Of course she would want to go out with him. The man was great. He was an amazing tipper, Shirley knew that shouldn't matter, but it did. He was polite and fun to talk to. He hadn't jumped to conclusions about her and her son, nor was he condescending. He had even been happy to talk about Andy. To top it all off, he was handsome. Damn, is he handsome. Shirley thought about his slightly messy, light brown hair; those laughing, clear blue eyes; those big broad shoulders; that deep voice. Who wouldn't want to go out with him? She realized she was starting to breathe a little heavier and shook herself. Andy had told her at breakfast that if she didn't call soon, he would. That made up her mind. There was no damned way she was going to let her son embarrass her like that. If she didn't call, she knew he'd make good on his threat. She'd just have to worry about John's reasons for asking her out later. She jumped off the bed and out of the room, headed for the stairwell. She'd call him at the front desk. As she walked, her steps echoed around her. Once downstairs, Shirley made her way to the front desk. Damn! Betty, she thought when she saw the bleached blond behind the counter. Who knew what would be said all throughout the building, within minutes, if she called him in front of that bitch. Probably that he is Andy's real father who just got out of prison for killing a patient or some shit like that. Shirley took a deep breath. She didn't have a choice. She had to call him and this was the only phone she had access to. "Can I use the phone?" Betty kept reading her magazine until, at last, she responded. "Be quick." Shirley had stared at his number so many times she had it memorized. She punched his number out on the telephone keypad in the blink of an eye. "Hello?" "Hey. Is this John?" She thought it was, but she didn't want to risk making a damned fool out of herself. "It is. Is this Shirley?" "Yes." This is shaping up to be a fascinating conversation. "I'm glad you called! How was your day?" He did sound pleased. "Same as every other," she answered plainly. His voice turned uncertain. "You still want to go out, right?" Maybe he was just trying to let her down. "It's fine if we don't." "I'd really like to." Okay. He wasn't trying to let her down. She had no clue what to say. "Okay then." "So...are you busy tonight? We could have dinner. My treat." She didn't like the 'my treat' part, but it would be stupid to say no to a free dinner. "Where at?" Betty was clearly eavesdropping, but at least she was keeping up the pretense of reading. "Well, there's this place I really like. Do you like Italian?" "Yes." "Then we can eat there. Have you heard of La Bella?" La Bella? That place is expensive! Even if you have money. "Uh- Yeah. That'd be good." I think I'm in shock. A doctor wants to take me to La Bella for dinner. Yeah. I'm defiantly in shock. Betty turned a corner of her magazine down and stared at Shirley. Her act was over. This was far too interesting. "Great! I'll see you there. About nine-thirty?" "Sure. I'll see you there." Betty tossed her magazine to the side and leaned towards Shirley. "Great!" he chuckled over the phone. For a reason that eluded her, Shirley was having trouble breathing. She forced out an "okay," and looked at Betty who had an eyebrow cocked in amusement. "Alright." He sounded happy, but maybe she was only fooling herself. He continued, "I'm looking forward to our date." Looking forward to it? She had to get off the phone. Thank God she wasn't one to blush! "So am I. I'll see you there. Bye." "I'll see you. Bye," came from the other end as Shirley quickly hung up. She ignored Betty's pointed stare as she climbed the stairs to her room. When she got there she threw herself across her bed. Goddamnit! That was awkward and embarrassing. Shirley wondered what kinds of rumors Betty was currently spreading. When Andy got home he found her still on the bed. He threw his book bag onto the floor and walked over to her. "What happened?" "I called him and made a date for dinner." She was still feeling shocked and she had just realized something horrible. "And?" "At La Bella." Andy raised his eyebrows, "Wow! He's paying?" Shirley nodded. "Wow. So, what's wrong?" "The fanciest thing I own is that damned diner uniform. I don't even have any jewelry." Andy thought for a moment, trying to find a solution. "Got it! I'll be right back. I've got to make a call." He shouted over his shoulder as he raced out the door to the front desk. Shirley sat up and waited to see what he had in mind. A few minutes later he came back running. "What time do you have to be there?" "Nine-thirty." He grabbed her hand and pulled her off the bed. Soon they were out of the apartment building. "Come on. We're going to see a friend of mine."