plan to crash down around me.
“Oh, Chelsea!” Andrea cried when she saw me. She’d been en route to the kitchen with a tray full of dishes, but she immediately put it down on a table and rushed over. “What happened?”
“What?” I said, my voice squeaky. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, clearly something’s really wrong,” Andrea said. “It’s all over your face.”
“But I put on makeup!” I protested while Andrea guided me to a stool at the counter. Melissa popped up from behind it like a gopher sniffing for trouble.
“Let me get you a drink, hon,” she said. She made me my favorite—iced tea and lemonade. “Now spill.”
“It’s nothing,” I said, shaking my head and pushing away the icy drink. It was already beading up with condensation in the steamy heat.
“Drink up,” Melissa said in a harsh Big Mama voice. It was so different from the firm sweetness of my own mother’s voice, but somehow it was just as effective.
“Okay,” I said. I took a huge, delicious swallow. It was so cold and sweet, it made my teeth hurt, but it was also delicious. I could have put a straw into a pitcher of it and drunk the whole thing right there. It was the first thing I’d tasted that day that hadn’t made me want to gag.
Finally I plunked my glass back onto the counter, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and announced, “Josh broke up with me. He said he needs to focus on the store.”
“What?” Andrea cried, putting both hands to her face in shock.
“Well!” Melissa said. “I can’t believe it! I mean, I can because he’s a boy and they do crazy things all the time, but . . . Josh? That boy is in love with you. We could all see it. Am I right, Al?”
Al Thayer had just walked in and was heading to his usual table in my section, but when Melissa spoke to him, he wheeled right around and came to join us at the counter. He hopped onto the stool next to mine, which was pretty impressive, considering that Mr. Thayer was pushing eighty. He was also my favorite regular, so it gave me a tiny lift to see him.
“How’s my favorite little waitress?” he said, tweaking my ponytail.
“A, that’s kind of sexist, Mr. Thayer,” Andrea said, crossing her arms over her chest. “And B, I thought I was your favorite little waitress.”
“Did I ever say, Andie,” Mr. Thayer said, his white eyebrows crunching into a bushy line over his big nose, “that you weren’t also my favorite? You can have more than one, you know.”
“No you can’t,” Andrea and I said at the same time, which made her laugh and made me almost smile.
“Well, I can,” Mr. Thayer said. “Besides, did you ever write me into a serial, Andrea?”
He glanced at the specials board, where the latest installment of Diablo and the Mels was still glowing beneath the list of pie flavors.
B. didn’t like Thayer. She of all people (or whatever) didn’t trust a man who ate his eggs with hot sauce. That was her thing.
“I expect B. and me to have a grand battle, my dear,” Mr. Thayer said. “Make it happen.”
I tried to laugh, but all that came out was a pathetic little honk.
“So, what’s the problem?” Mr. Thayer asked.
“Josh,” Melissa, Andrea, and I said at once.
“I thought as much,” Mr. Thayer said. “What happened?”
“He’s choosing career over love,” Andrea said dramatically. “Men!”
“I don’t think you can call Dog Ear Josh’s career,” I said wanly. “I mean, he hasn’t even graduated from high school!”
“He’s a good boy,” Mr. Thayer said. I felt my eyes well up. My tongue went so thick in my mouth that I couldn’t talk, but I nodded. Because I couldn’t help agreeing with Mr. Thayer. Even though I was hating Josh for choosing his parents over me, I also loved him for it. He was a good boy.
“But,” Mr. Thayer went on, “being good doesn’t mean you’re always right. And being a boy, a young man—well, that’s a trial-by-error time if there ever was one.”
“So you think he made a mistake?” I choked out. I didn’t know why this filled me with such hope. I guessed it was because Mr. Thayer was old. And a man. So he knew more about this honor and manhood thing than I did.
“If he did,” Mr. Thayer said, “I don’t think Josh will be too proud to admit it. He’s a good boy. And I am