Auntie Annie                  by: Emmie Dee

 

Vicki Hudnut progressed with her GED program by waitressing days and going to school two nights a week. Sometimes, she'd still be wearing her peach waitress uniform with its full skirt, white apron and collar, when she dropped Roberta by for babysitting, and would have to wear it to class because there wasn't time to change. It was a very 60s outfit, the kind that Alice and Flo wore on the old TV sitcom, but then the place she worked was a retro sort of place, so it fit. By November, my wife was Aunt Sarah and I was Uncle Mark or Aunt Annie, usually the latter, no matter how I was dressed.

One night, she brought a little box that contained all the goofy clip-on earrings we had made for her during our shared Hope Haven summer. We had fun modeling them and laughing at how silly we all looked. I remarked on how much she had grown up since then, both in height and maturity.

"Yes," Roberta smiled. "My mom's going to let me get my ears pierced for Christmas. But I can only have two holes like you, Aunt Sarah, not a whole bunch like you, Aunt Annie. I already asked." It was for the best, I acknowledged. "I'd never wear these earrings to school, of course, except on Halloween, maybe," she giggled. "But it would be nice if they were pierced earrings, instead of clip-ons."

"We can fix that," Sarah said. "We were going to take you out for ice cream after supper, anyway, so we can swing by the craft store where we brought these and buy the right pieces to adapt them. Maybe we can even buy more stuff to make some nicer earrings. Would you like that?" Roberta smiled and nodded enthusiastically. After supper, I changed into my favorite denim jumper, pinned my hair back with barrettes, and applied some makeup, and of course, daubed my nails with light blue frost.

"Dear," my wife said with a look of concern, "I'm still a little worried about what happened up in the mountains. If those creeps saw you as Annie, they might want revenge. I want you to feel comfortable going out as Annie, but maybe you'd better wear the wig tonight." I didn't think there was a huge chance that the three would be hanging around at a craft supply store or ice cream parlor, but I wanted to honor Sarah's feelings. So I pinned my hair up, covered it with a net, and put on the beautiful wig that Mrs. Cameron had brought Sarah and me.

"What creeps?" Roberta asked, frowning.

I smiled. "Nothing to worry about, kid. Some grown-up equivalents of schoolyard bullies tried to give us a hard time when we went on a picnic, and we gave them a hard time back. Chances are we'll never see them again."

At the ice cream parlor, I didn't worry too much about either the bad guys or Annie's waistline as I devoured a hot fudge sundae made with dark chocolate ice cream. Sarah sipped a chocolate shake, and Roberta wore her strawberry sundae nicely, and only took a little hosing down afterwards.

We walked into the craft store, and began looking around. An elegant young black woman, slightly taller than me, was waiting on another customer. Long, tiny braids were curled and swirled around her head. Sarah and I looked at each other. Could she be our friend from the chemo room? We couldn't be sure, although we had talked about the possibility that she still might work here. The woman turned around, gave us a pleasant smile, then her eyes widened in recognition.

"If you two are who I think you are, we all had a lot less hair the last time we saw one another!" We grinned and nodded, and began hugging and kissing, having a veterans' reunion of the medication wars.

"And who is this young darling? Do you two girls have a younger sister?" Amanda asked. She reached down to take Roberta's hand.

"No, this is Roberta Hudnut. She is another good friend of ours from Hope Haven days--she had a heart problem then, but it's all fixed up now. She comes and stays with us some evenings while her mom goes to school," Sarah explained.

"I'm so glad to meet you, Roberta, I'm Amanda Perkins, said the clerk. Roberta smiled and said she was glad, too.

"It looks like we're all a lot healthier now," Amanda said. "I'm in remission. I pray that you are too," she told Sarah.

"Me, too," Sarah said. Six-month checkups, but cancer-free every time.

"Girl, what are you doing with so much hair," I asked.

"I could be asking you the same question, Annie," was her reply. I couldn't resist pulling off my wig and hairnet, and letting my somewhat shorter hair answer her question. She laughed and started unpinning my hair. "Weren't you a curly blond before?" she kidded. "Actually these are weaves. The braids are woven into my own hair, so I haven't really grown thirty inches of hair in what? A year and a half?"

"Don't I recall a boyfriend that liked you bald?" Sarah teased.

"He's history, babe," our friend pronounced. When we asked her about her life was going, she explained that she hadn't regained her strength enough to win a basketball scholarship at the university, so she was going to school part time and working full time, and hoped to be at least a walk-on next year. She reminded us that her father was a pastor and asked if we would want to come visit someday.

"We go to the Presbyterian Church on Campus Boulevard," Sarah explained, "But sure, we'd love to come visit some Sunday." Then Sarah explained how we were both married now, and we showed off our small rings.

"I'd love to meet the guys lucky enough to catch you two," she beamed. "Bring 'em to church with you, okay?"

"Well, actually, they work most weekends," Sarah lied,

"And go hunting other weekends," I added. A few minutes later, we had set a date for the Sunday before Thanksgiving, and she had promised to come pick us up. Then we brought our earring backs, and she gave us a special deal on a kit where you could stamp colored glass "jewels" onto clothing--after making sure that Roberta had no baby siblings who might swallow the pieces.

We got back home at the same time that Vicki, Roberta's mother, arrived from her GED class. "Don't tell mommy about the jewelry set," Roberta whispered urgently as she climbed out of the jeep. I want to make her Christmas present with it!" When she had buckled her daughter into the back seat of her car, Vicki thanked us, but her face was lined with concern.

"Something wrong, Vicki?" I asked

"Work problems," she said. "I may have to drop out of the class, and this close to the end of the quarter. All that work down the drain." After we encouraged her to tell more, she continued. "It started with Regina getting pregnant, then Lindie blew her knee on the ski slope. They're both night shift waitresses. Our work staff is so thin that Mr. Cramner, the manager, is really pressing me to move to the 3-11 shift, right now, Mondays through Thursdays. He doesn't want to hire anybody new, since Reggie and Lindie will both be coming back, and it's easier getting someone to fill the day slot."
Sarah said, "We could keep Roberta in the evenings, if that would help." I nodded.

"That's wonderful of you, and I love you both to pieces, but starting next week, I have two nights a week until the day before Thanksgiving where I'm supposed to be two places at once. Phil--that's Mr. Cramner--said that if I could find a well-trained fill-in to sub for me, it would be okay. But the only people I know have said no. I offered them my salary for those hours plus tips, too."

"If I could, I'd help you out," Sarah said wistfully. Then her eyebrow perked up. "What about you, Mark? You waited tables at Frost's Diner back in Fort Russell during rodeo week and on some holidays, didn't you?"

"Well, sure, I guess I could try it. What do waiters wear at the Mountain Goat Grill? Black slacks and white shirts?"

Vicki giggled nervously. "Well, actually, they wear peach polyester dresses with white aprons. To create the atmosphere he wants, Phil insists on an all-female wait staff, wearing the old-fashioned uniforms. So you'd have to be Annie, not Mark, if you filled in. So I'd understand if you didn't want to. But Lindie's dress would fit you fine, I think." I had to stop and think. Working as a waitress--could I keep my cover? How would I deal with customers who wanted more than what was on the menu? On the other hand, I really wanted Vicki to finish her GED and go on with her education. I had signed up for the minimum full-time load at the university, so keeping up with my classes wouldn't be a problem. And we were tight on money, since that adventure in the mountains had convinced us that we should have cell phones for emergencies, and we hadn't budgeted that one in earlier.

"What do you think, Sarah?" I asked.

"It's up to you, hon, but it would be a good part of Annie's education, it would help Vicki's education, and I can handle Roberta fine on those evenings."

"And Annie?" Vicki interrupted. "If you would do it for me, it wouldn't be for the whole shift, just the hours that I was at class. You could replace me at 7, and I could be back to the restaurant by 9:30 at the latest and work the rest of my shift." I nodded and said okay. She gave me a big hug, and said, "Thank you so much, Annie." I wondered if she had forgotten that I was Mark underneath. "Oh--I'm sorry! Mark, I mean!" She had.

Roberta had been slumbering in the back seat, or so I thought. I glanced down and saw her smiling, impish face looking up at me through the open car door. "Yes, thank you so much, Auntie Annie," she giggled. As an only child I had never had a chance to be anybody's uncle before, let alone an aunt. But being Roberta's honorary aunt was a real treasure for me, if not a trial.

 

LIFE AT THE MOUNTAIN GOAT GRILL

So that's how, the next Monday evening, I found myself in the employee's washroom of the Mountain Goat Grill, having Vicki tie my white apron around the waist of my peach polyester dress. An old-fashioned petticoat poofed the skirt out from my waist. "Annie" was lablemakered onto my plastic name badge. My hair was pulled back into a pony tail, a bit higher than I usually wear mine, and held together with an elastic cord with two white plastic balls on it, a gift from Roberta. Before I had left home, Sarah had taken her electric hair styling wand and had attacked some tendrils of hair from the front of my head so they dangled down in spiral waves in front of my ears. That didn't bother me as much as her pulling down my forelock of hair and cutting long bangs that nearly reached my eyebrows. She had worked some wave into them and sprayed them in place. They looked okay for Annie, and both Sarah and Vicki showed me that I could comb them backward or to the side and spray them down when I was in my Mark mode (most of the time), but my hunch was that they would flop down at embarrassing times. They did help Annie's appearance, though. Looking in the mirror, I saw my normal complement of makeup, my dangly Tigger earrings swaying from the bottom holes, two diamond studs above, and a gold stud in the third hole of my left ear. A small locket necklace dangled from my neck. Inside the locket was a picture of me as a baby. Mom was going to give it to the daughter she never had, but she figured that I was the next best thing. My nails were peach, matching the polyester--my various shades of blue just didn't seem to work. I smiled. I wasn't the prettiest waitress on the floor, but I wasn't the ugliest, either. Even though our uniforms did make us look like relics from a time warp, just like all the old campus memorabilia that filled the wall space, at least we could wear modern running shoes to keep our feet comfortable. Vicki gave me a squeeze from behind. "You're looking great, Annie, and I so appreciate you doing this. But now I've got to run."

They opened a section of tables as soon as I came on duty, and they started filling up. Families with little children, old couples, and gaggles of current college kids.

"Hi. Welcome to the Mountain Goat Grill. I'll be your server tonight, and if you need anything, my name is Annie." My first customer was obviously a professor, right down to the beard, wire-rim glasses, and leather patches on the elbows of his tweed sport jacket. A young woman sat with him.

He grinned. "What's your name if I don't need anything?"

"Uh, still Annie, I guess. English faculty, right?" So I explained the specials, took the order (Reuben with kraut, chips, extra pickle, and a small house salad, house dressing on the side, for the lady, and two iced teas--I wrote it all down but I still remember it, weeks later.) And so it began. I was lucky my first day was Monday, a slightly slow day, but I kept plenty busy enough.

To a fairly tall young man, eating by himself, who looked vaguely familiar from my GLEBITS meeting: "Hi. Welcome to the Mountain Goat Grill. I'm Annie, and I'll be your server tonight." I cocked my head slightly, pencil in hand.

"Hi, Annie. I'm Kevin, and I'll be your customer tonight." There are definitely disadvantages to waiting tables in a college town.

The flow went pretty well, I kept the drinks filled and the food coming, and didn't run into any other waitpersons while balancing the tray on one hand. One customer treated me like I was a fool when I had to explain that the kitchen help dropped their table's pizza, and we were making another one. I turned them into happy customers by keeping my cool, by telling them that I would bring a larger pizza at no charge, and then (with boss's permission, of course) gave them a gift certificate for a future visit. I had only worked half a shift by the time Vicki returned from her GED class, but it felt like I had run a marathon! I would certainly make a point to be kind to waitresses from now on. So--back to the washroom, out of peach polyester, back into the jeans and blouse I wore, hang up the uniform, and out the door, with several dollars in tip money in my little pink wallet. Sarah Beth waited up for me, and put me in heaven by rubbing my feet as I lay on my back on the floor. The next morning, we dashed off to our 8 o'clock English class, and it wasn't until we pulled into the handicap parking space that I noticed the peach fingernail polish was still on. I relied on Sarah's note-taking and sat with my hands balled up.

The next night was the monthly GLEBITS meeting. I wasn't quite ready to be fully out as Annie, so I settled for an androgynous look--sneakers, jeans, baggy turtleneck, nail polish with just a tiny bit of tint, 5 tiny hoops in my ears, minimal makeup, and hair similar to the night before, bangs down, but with the tendrils pulled back and pinned up with tiny blue metallic clips. We brought Win with us from next door--her partner had a slight cold and was behind in her studies. "Girl," she told me. "You look nice in a subtle sort of way, but the first Sunday night in December we're having a holiday party, and you have to be there in all your Annie glory. Hear me?"

"Yes, mother," I replied humbly. We had missed the Halloween party because we were too shook up from the incident in the mountains. We talked with a few folks, and a large young man stepped up in front of me.

"Pardon me, but do you work at Mountain Goat Grill?" he asked. It was Kevin, a customer from the night before. I acknowledged, and introduced myself as Annie Jansen. "I almost didn't recognize you without that awful uniform," he said, smiling, "I guess I assumed that you were a townie." I introduced him to Sarah Beth as my partner, and we made small talk about our majors, the sports teams, and such. During the program, we were warned about a loosely-organized group of bigots that lived up in the mountains, who were known to hassle both racial and sexual minorities. Women were acceptable, as long as they stayed in their place, didn't talk back, and bore lots of children. Although the "Righteous Family's" activities hadn't gone beyond name-calling and harassment yet, they were considered dangerous. A chill ran up my spine, and Sarah, Win, and I all glanced at each other. Could the jerks we met in the mountains be connected? Later, they discussed the upcoming party--dressy, but not formal--a band, buffet, and a good time to be had by all--from either side, Win and Sarah nudged me in the ribs and grinned. There was no use protesting--they would know I didn't mean it.

Actually, waitressing at night provided some psychic relief. November brought with it wind, rain, and snow, so my bicycling was cut down to a minimum. At least dashing around covering bunches of tables, carrying trays of food, coffee pots, or tea pitchers gave me large muscle exercises. And with all the "head-trip" of campus life, it was fun to relate in a more down-to-earth way with the other waitresses and the customers. My uniform was the same, but my nails went back to blue, so I would be sure to notice them before I tore off for class the next day.

Once in awhile, it got too down-to-earth. I always remembered to wear my "wedding ring," to use as a quick answer to the college guys who wanted to order me for dessert. The smart-mouth flirts were easy to deal with. What really gets annoying are the gropers. Lydia Montez, another waitress who had taken time to befriend and mentor me, walked by me with a red face and taut mouth, and whispered, "Groper alert, table 17." Five frat boys sat at the table, being loud and obnoxious. Their table was on a direct path to my serving area, so I made sure to stay on the other side of the aisle as I walked by. On my way back to my area with a full pot of coffee, I saw that Lydia was partially blocking the aisle serving a table, so I would have to squeeze by. Well, I squeezed and I got squeezed, as a hand crept across my rear. I jumped, startled, and a little coffee splashed out of my pot. I was in no mood to turn the other cheek. By this time, Lydia had straightened up--her angry glance made it clear that she had seen what had happened. I moved just behind the booth. "Lydia," I said, in my sweetest little-girl voice, "Did I ever tell you how I got fired from my last waitressing job?"

"No, babe. How?"

"Some little jerk with more testosterone than brains put his hand where it never should have been. It startled me so much that I spun around, and the coffee pot, just like this one, came out of my hand. And guess where it landed? Upside-down, right between his legs."

"No!" she grinned.

"Do you know how difficult it is to perform skin-grafts on male genitalia? And painful? Well, they sued, even though it was an accident, so the restaurant had to let me go." I put a mock-sorrowful look on my face and walked away. The group left soon afterward, looking grim and embarrassed. Lydia got the word around, and every time another waitress would pass me and have a hand free, she would raise it in fist for a power salute to me.

"Is that story true about you getting fired," some would whisper to me.

"No, but we can only dream," I'd respond, smiling wickedly.

On my last day, the Monday before Thanksgiving, Phil Cramner, the manager, told me he liked my work, and asked me if I was busy the first Saturday evening in December, and if I'd be willing to work.

"Phil, thanks, but remember I'm not really your employee. I'm just filling in for Vicki."

"We could put you on the payroll," the short swarthy man said.

"I'm afraid not. I'm on a scholarship that forbids outside employment. But I am free that night if you want to work out something informally. I could always use the cash."

"Sure we can make a deal," he said. "Vicki's going to work that evening, too, so I can just extend her hours. It's double-time, by the way, so how you two split the salary is your business. The Goats are playing in the league playoff game that afternoon, and the place will be hopping." He had a deal. It was going to be a busy weekend for Annie, waiting tables on Saturday night and going to the GLEBITS party on Sunday.

When I told Vicki and Sarah about it when I got home (after we toasted Vicki for completing her GED), she asked, "Are you just going to spend the weekend as Annie, then, rather than change back and forth?" Sarah said that she thought it would be the only practical thing to do. "Do you ever spend whole weekends as Annie--since you've left Hope Haven, I mean?" Vicki asked again. We explained that I usually didn't, but then Sarah told her about how my sister-in-law had treated me to a special weekend around my wedding shower, in gratitude for my willingness to stand in for her the summer before. "Hmm. Interesting," Vicki said.

On Wednesday afternoon, Sarah and I climbed into the jeep for our first trip home since we moved to the city. Both of our parents had come over for visits, but pulling into the old driveway again brought all kinds of waves of homesickness. The Holdings had invited my parents over to dinner, also, so we had a big houseful of folks chowing down. Julie was there, but without Karrin this time. We all told our stories of college life (and Sarah and I of wedded life), and consumed huge quantities of turkey and pie.

After we spent some time at my folks’ house after dinner, we returned to the Holdings. Since our house has second-story bedrooms, we spend nights at the Holdings, in Sarah’s room that they built for her during her recuperation. About nine, we excused ourselves to the room so Sarah could take her prosthetic off (a nightly ritual she compared to taking off a girdle) and get comfortable. We got talking about how much we had to be thankful for. Sarah was healthy and active, in spite of her amputation. We were happily married, and doing well with our studies. We both had strong, loving families to support us emotionally. We had scholarship money from the university and living money from the Cameron foundation, which allowed us both to go to school--if we would have to depend upon family income to support us, we would probably both have ended up as part time students at the community college. We had a really neat circle of friends. Just then, Julie knocked on the doorframe of our bedroom. "Are you two making out yet, or can I come in?" she asked subtly. We told her to come on in, and she came in with two gift boxes under her arm.

"Sorry to bother you two lovebirds," she said. "Karrin and I worked together to make these for your Christmas presents. We want you to have them now, since the weather is so nasty, and you were saying that your apartment was chilly." She handed them to us. "So--are you going to open them?"

We grinned and started tearing ribbon and paper. Sarah pulled out a lovely lavender flannel nightgown, bedecked with ribbons and lace. "Sara Beth" was monogrammed over a large velvet heart. "Isn't it amazing? Karrin sewed these herself. She took a pattern and improvised. I just brought the supplies and helped." Of course, I pulled out another nightie, this one blue and larger, with its own velvet heart and "Annie" monogrammed over it. Then we noticed old-fashioned nightcaps in the boxes, in matching flannel, with ribbon woven around the crowns. Finally, we found big fuzzy socks in matching colors, decorated by a little bow at the top. Sarah held hers up and said, "Hmm. I see you got me a spare." For a second, Julie and I both looked stricken. Then Sarah laughed. "Come on, you two. Lighten up. I was just kidding." So we both hugged Julie, and gave her hugs to take back to Karrin. The new gowns would be cozy. Except for special romantic nights, I'd usually gone to bed in shorts and tee shirt. But since our bedroom was getting chilly with the advent of winter, I knew that we would both be wearing our new nightclothes.

 

(to be continued)

 

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