voice and blue eyes that looked up at the ceiling as she recounted the evening’s specials. Natalie felt bad for only ordering a bottomless cup of decaf; she’d waitressed in high school, and she remembered the bad luck of having a beverage-sipper parked at one of her tables for much of the night. But the waitress didn’t seem annoyed. Her eyes moved over Natalie’s newspaper, at the one job desciption Natalie had already circled with blue pen. She appeared suspiciously sympathetic.
Natalie looked down at the newspaper until the waitress walked away. She didn’t want sympathy, not from someone so much younger, not even Veronica’s age. It felt too much like revulsion.
She had her pen poised, ready to circle again.
The irony here, perhaps, was that all those years ago, when Natalie herself was a fresh-faced student at the University of New Hampshire, she had only majored in education because it seemed like a practical choice. Her mother, a very practical woman from Maine, had strongly advised it. Teaching jobs were always plentiful, and teachers kept sensible hours. Natalie would be able to keep working after she had children. Also, Natalie liked to read, and she’d always been good with the little ones. Perfect. That Natalie had never really dreamed of teaching was beside the point.
“I’m not asking you to dream about it. I’m just asking you to get licensed.” Natalie’s mother had a thick Down East accent, full of a wary pragmatism that could make her daughter’s musings, when she repeated them, sound dumb. “We both know what part of college you like best. But you can’t major in sorority, dear.”
She forgave her mother’s condescension. Her mother hadn’t even gone to college. It was just never an option, not at that time, in that little coastal town, the only income lobsters and tourists. Her mother’s brothers went, but she didn’t. That was okay at first, because she married Natalie’s father. But when Natalie was eight, her father died.
“You want dreams?” her mother asked. “Okay. Dream about being able to support yourself. Believe me. It’s a dream you want to take seriously as soon as possible, whether you marry Danny-boy or not.”
But the real argument for teaching, in Natalie’s mind, was that she didn’t have any better ideas. The truth was, she didn’t really dream of anything when it came to a real job, something she might have to do every day for the rest of her life. Nothing sounded that great. She liked to read, but she didn’t like writing. She liked math until it got too hard. Her favorite courses, no matter what the subject, were always introductory. She hated that about herself, how stupid and shallow it made her sound. But her favorite part of college really was sorority life: She loved the shared meals in front of the big stone fireplace, the charity fund-raisers. She loved the camaraderie, the group projects, and the way everyone came to her for advice.
And she loved Dan. Her mother could call him Danny-boy all she wanted, but he was as smart and funny and warm as Natalie’s father, and he looked at her like she was Helen of Troy. She loved the way he looked at her.
“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s going to make a lot of money,” her uncle Pat had added, laughing. Natalie had been so offended. She loved Dan because she loved Dan. She would have loved him if he’d been a barber. She hadn’t been that calculating, not at all.
“I believe you,” Uncle Pat said with a wink. “But it’s a fortunate coincidence, you have to admit.” He sat up, coughing, seeing her face. “Oh come on, honey. I’m just playing with you. Don’t get mad. Don’t be like that.”
The fifth time the waitress came by to refill her coffee, Natalie apologized. “I’m sort of camped out here,” she said, smiling hard. Minus two quick bathroom breaks, she’d been sitting in the booth for three hours.
“No problem.” The waitress was still cheery, though she looked a little young to be up so late. “Bottomless cup means bottomless cup. You can sit here all night if you want.”
Oh good, so there was an option! Natalie kept smiling until the waitress walked away. For the cost of just one bottomless cup, she could sleep in this booth! She would stay warm and dry, and have good service. In the morning, she could splurge on pancakes, and wash her face in the bathroom sink. She wondered what the friendly waitress