Page 4 of Reviving Kendall

I turn her words over in my head as I find a non-existent speck to stare at on her back when she walks away.

Stuffing the cash in my pocket, I take the receipt up to the counter. When I go to put the amount in from it, I realize that glasses put an extra fifty bucks on as a tip. Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with them? Must be nice handing out daddy’s money like that. Either way, I won’t spend a dime of it. I’m not a goddamn charity case. I earn my way thank you very much. I’m going to give them a week to come back in. If they don’t then I’ll use surfer boy’s number to get it back to them somehow. Surprisingly, I don’t even need the week.

Surburbiaville

Charles doesn’t schedule me for Saturday and I’m ok with that. Says it was to hire a new server or something, but it gives me a chance to go get new work clothes. Plus, drop the rest of my money in the bank where it will go straight to paying the electricity bill. That’s one thing that I never want to live without in the winter again. I can sleep in ninety-degree weather with no AC, but I must have heat, even if it is what little bit we are able to contain in the trailer. The only thing that sucks is the smell. Those fucking cigarettes.

I try to tell Gramps all the time that it’s going to kill him. It’s just hard for a man who lost the love of his life to cancer, and is now suffering the same fate to actually give a shit. Gramps isn’t a bad man. He never has been. He and Nana took me in when I was only six and my parents got busted for meth. They wouldn’t have to still be serving time if it wasn’t for some murder they were charged with on top of the drugs. Yeah, my parents are the epitome of white trash. Dear old mom and pop got prison and I got Gramps and Nana. Things were the best they’ve ever been for me for a full year. Then Nana got sick. We had to move out of their house they’ve owned for forty years, just to pay the bills. I was used to the trailer park life. There’s nothing degrading about it, because it’s the people inside that matter. Not the house. Nana took it hard though. She left us within the same year. I guess it was just too much for her. Then Gramps started smoking again and got sick himself. Life is a bitch and we drew the short end of the stick.

Maybe that’s why Derrik’s words hurt so much. I know where I come from and god forbid when something happens to Gramps. I’ll have nowhere else to go but that trailer. At least it’s paid for and luckily, I’m of age, so I don’t have to worry about the state stepping in again.

Now that it’s Sunday. I’m in the shower starting my quick getting ready ritual. It seriously consists of nothing but a shower, brushing my teeth, and a little make up. I don’t give a shit about my hair. I just always throw it up in a bun anyways. Stepping out of the tub, I wrap a thin towel around my body and shiver. Damn, I really need to splurge a little and get some new towels. These are so worn that they barely do their jobs anymore. It’s just not worth the money at the moment.

Sighing, I wipe my hands across the fog on the mirror. A stranger’s face stares back at me. Long, wet, dark brown hair, greenish mostly brown eyes hiding under bushy eyebrows with a small nose and lips a little too big for my face is what I see. The dark circles under my eyes do nothing for the image either. Maybe on a healthy person who isn’t so stressed all the time, my looks would be considered classic beauty. Teresa was so wrong. There’s no way in hell those guys found me attractive the other night. I’m nowhere even close to their type anyways.

Angrily tossing my eyeliner back into my bag, I wonder why the fuck I’m even thinking about them in the first place. They’ve been on my mind since Friday night and I can’t seem to get them out. Which of course leaves me an angry guilty mess. It’s probably a good idea to schedule an appointment with my therapist soon, but I have neither the time nor money right now. I’ll just double my meds today and hope that it helps.

I get dressed and walk into the living room. Gramps is passed out in his chair with a cigarette burnt to ash between his fingers. Snatching it from him, I smash it down inside an old Coke can before tossing it in the trash.

“I wasn’t finished with that,” he says hoarsely between coughs.

With my back to him I roll my eyes, “You were out, and it was burned to ash anyways.”

He coughs again, “I wasn’t asleep, I just closed my eyes for a second.”

Right. “Well I’ve got to work today. I won’t be home till later. Is there anything you need?” I ask with my hand on the doorknob

“I need another carton,” he says seriously.

My eyebrows shoot up on my forehead, “That’s not happening. Anything else?”

“You’re as stubborn and bullheaded as your Nana...was,” he says.

I smile, “And that’s something she was always proud of, especially when it came to you.” Turning back around, I walk over to him. A smile crosses his face as I lean down and press my lips against the top of his bald head.

“I’ve got to go or I’m going to be late.” I tell him.

His voice reaches me about the time the door swings open, “You can always take the car you know.”

My steps falter and I find myself staring at the old blue Chevrolet Malibu sitting in the driveway. His voice turns softer, “It’s been two years, Kendall. You already have your license. Keys are hanging in the same place they always are. I can’t stand the thought of you walking home at night alone.”

“Thanks, Gramps,” I say trying not to get choked up. Then I shut the door on his sigh.

I get lost in my head thinking on his words. It really has been that long and if Will were here, he would laugh at me while he says that my fear is ridiculous. Ever since the accident, I’ve been terrified to be in a car. Buses don’t freak me out as bad and I think it’s because they are bigger. Who knows. Maybe I’m just a white trash freak. Or maybe Gramps is right. Maybe it’s time to get back on the horse.

I stay on autopilot the entire forty-five-minute walk to work and all the way through dinner.

About thirty minutes before we close, Theresa shines a light through the fog in my head and pulls me out, “You’ve got table twelve.”

I shake my head, “No, that’s Becca’s section.”

Her left eyebrow quirks up and a smile crosses her face, “They asked for you specifically.”

There’s only two “they” that I can think of that would ask for me, Derrik’s dick squad and the strangers from the other night. With the way that she’s acting I’m guessing it’s the latter. My head truly hopes that it is. My heart isn’t so sure.

Straightening my shirt, I walk around the corner. Said heart does a funny skipping beat thing and feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest.

“Well, well, well. We were hoping that you were here tonight,” blonde surfer boy says as I make it to the table. Before I can say anything, he continues, “You know, I waited all weekend for a phone call, but never got one.”

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