Page 69 of Full Circle

CELESTE

Ten years later

“Order up!” Jesse called through the window, slamming his meaty hand down on the bell.

“Heard!” I hollered back over my shoulder. Continuing to pour the coffee into Mr. McInworthe’s mug, I flashed him a smile. “Will that be your usual, sir?”

Lines crinkled around his eyes as he smiled back at me. “Gosh, you’re as pretty as your mama.”

It was a sentiment most of our older crowd felt the need to deliver weekly. Each and every time made my heart skip a beat. Ten years had passed since my daddy died, thirteen years since Mama’s passing, and any reminder of them still ripped the wounds fresh and raw. Working at The Comfy Cushion had become my penance, an endless criminal sentence for which there was no parole.

The best thing I could do in these circumstances was focus on my work…and there was a lot of it. Over the past decade, The Comfy Cushion had slowly crumbled around us. All the other staff left until there was just me and Jesse, with Marla occasionally helping when I needed to go to an appointment. Desiree had successfully managed to alienate most of the food vendors to where we no longer had fresh, locally sourced produce and the quality of our food had gone downhill. No matter how many ways I tried to cut back on expenses or find better alternatives, the red line hung precariously over our profit margin. The patrons we had most days were regulars who remembered my parents and wanted to honor them, but made no secret of their disdain for Desiree.

The bell tinkled over the door as another customer entered. Without looking up, I called for them to go ahead and sit anywhere.

“Girl, you better get over here and give me frickin’ hug!” squealed a voice I recognized.

“MAGGIE!” I raced around the corner and threw my arms around her. She jumped like a giddy little girl as she tightened her hold on my waist. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back into town?”

When we were nineteen Maggie and I had gone to a party near the Army base a half hour away as a joke and Maggie met Sergeant Ezekiel Hayes. As a third party bystander, the chemistry between her and Zeke was palpable the moment they locked eyes. However, even I wasn’t prepared for her to tell me a week later that they had gotten married. Nor could I fake a smile when she immediately followed her announcement with the news that he received orders to South Korea and she was going with him. Yet here we were going on seven years later and somehow she seemed just as happy and in love as I could ever hope for.

Since then, they had moved back Stateside to his current duty station in Fort Lewis, Washington, where he had risen in rank to Sergeant First Class. Maggie and I video chatted daily, but it had never come up that she planned on visiting.

“Since Zeke is deployed, I figured why not come home and visit for a spell?” Maggie laughed. “It’s better than rattling around the house by myself for no good reason.” Only I could have detected the undercurrent of sorrow in her laugh. She was scared.

“He’s gonna be okay,” I whispered.

She nodded, refusing to meet my eyes. “I know. He’s good at what he does. It’ll be fine.”

We both migrated over to the counter. Maggie slid onto one of the vinyl barstools as I rounded the counter, grabbing a glass to fill with Coke for her. She was still one of the only women I knew who could have a diet consisting of sugar and anything deep fried, yet remain the same weight as high school.

Meanwhile, I had become every woman’s worst fear. If I so much as looked at anything with butter or flavor, I gained five pounds. Curves rounded out my shape in a way they never had a decade ago, but with how much I worked, I was far too tired at the end of the day to care much about it.

“How’s Iris?” Maggie asked.

“We’ll know in a few minutes. She should be here soon,” I replied tightly.

Maggie spun around on the stool. “At least this place is still open.” It was an olive branch, meant to lighten the mood, but it only served to deflate my spirits even further.

“Barely,” I hissed between clenched teeth. “She’s gotten worse lately.”

“Honey, tickets to the struggle bus ain’t cheap. It’s gonna get worse before it can get better.”

The bell over the door tinkled again before I could respond. Desiree walked in, her hair curled into an elaborate bun and large sunglasses obscuring her face. Her head did a sweep of the patrons before a deep frown settled on her face.

“I see you’re not doing anything to improve business like we discussed, Celeste,” Desiree chided. She clucked her tongue, lifting her sunglasses onto her head. “It would be a shame to see your mama’s pride and joy close down because you didn’t make enough of an effort.”

Storm clouds were forming in Maggie’s eyes, which never promised anything good.

“I’ll come up with some new marketing ideas to run by you,” I offered.

My stepmother smirked. “Be sure and do that.”

Ever since I graduated high school, I spent all of my time at The Comfy Cushion. Desiree loved to remind me that it was her restaurant, and that I was lucky to be allowed to work there. Slowly, more and more of the responsibilities fell on my shoulders. As the other few waitresses quit and Marla opened her bakery down the street, I was left to run the place by myself. Desiree had never even learned where things were located. She rarely came in other than to berate me for the profits being down. There was never enough money to fix any of the equipment that was quickly falling into disrepair, nor would she invest money into digitizing our systems. The Comfy Cushion lagged further and further behind, and our reputation for great food had long since died out.

Desiree stepped around the counter to the cash register, pressing the button to open the drawer. She grabbed all of the paper bills that were inside and stuffed them into her wallet.

“What are you doing?” I asked incredulously.

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