Coffee
She had done it. She had completed step one of her mission. She was there. Now came the big question. Could she follow through with her plan and complete step two, or would she turn and run?
Charlene Billows nervously straightened the stainless-steel napkin dispenser and salt and pepper shakers as she sat alone in a back booth. The hour was early morning, the location a small hotel coffee shop/restaurant along the main drag.
"Where is that waitress?" she said to herself as she tapped her long fingernails on the table.
She had reached the small West Texas town of Hootsville off Interstate 10 between Pecos and El Paso in desperate need of a ladies’ room, followed by a strong cup of coffee. Unfortunately, the long stretch of highway since her last stop had offered few options for a bathroom break along the way.
The early morning hour and the long line of eighteen-wheelers parked at the nearest state-run rest stop had prevented her from making that quick detour for a bathroom.
Scanning the dining room, she observed only three occupied tables, but had no doubt the place would get much busier soon with the morning breakfast run.
Four senior-aged gentlemen occupied one table. Presumably, locals who were in the habit of waking before the roosters crowed and had nothing better to do than meet for coffee.
She knew from experience in small Texas towns, including this one, that the locals generally gathered at local fast-food restaurants, so she had purposely avoided the Dairy Queen on the other side of Interstate 10.
A young couple occupied another table. The occupants of the third table appeared to be a family of four, including two teenage boys.
She watched the family for several minutes, noticing nothing unusual about them as the assumed parents chatted while the boys buried their heads in their cell phones. She sighed, finding herself envious of the family while wondering what had brought them to this restaurant this early in the morning.
Had they stayed overnight at the hotel, then risen early this morning to continue on their way to some exciting adventure?
She snapped back to reality, her thoughts interrupted by the waitress with the cup of coffee she had ordered..
“Just passing through?” the young waitress asked as she sat the cup down in front of Charlene.
“Umm…” Charlene replied.
Before Charlene could answer, the waitress continued, “Most people are. Not much reason to stay. So, where’d you come from?”
The waitress then blushed and quickly added, “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”
Charlene studied the waitress, who seemed to be working the early-morning shift alone, and saw similarities between herself and the young woman from many years ago when she herself waited tables in this same town. Like herself all those years ago, the waitress was probably no more than seventeen or eighteen.
“I don’t mind,” she finally replied. “I’m from here actually.”
A look of confusion flashed across the waitress’s face. “Here? You certainly don’t look like anyone from around here. Is that your fancy sports car out there?” she asked, pointing to the parking area in front of the coffee shop.
“Yes.”
“That’s a really cool car. You must be rich. It looks brand new.”
“Somewhat,” Charlene replied, which answered both questions. “Could I get some cream for my coffee?”
“Oh, yes, of course! I’m sorry.”
“Sally, leave the customer alone and get back to the kitchen. You have orders up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sally replied to the waitress who had just come on duty. “But I need to get this nice lady some cream first.”
“You go pick up your orders, and I’ll get the cream. Go.”
The fifty-ish-aged waitress turned toward Charlene after watching Sally disappear into the kitchen. “Sorry, ma’am. She’ll talk your ears off if you let her. I’ll get that cream for you.”
This second waitress barely glanced at Charlene before following behind Sally, but Charlene immediately recognized the woman’s harsh, raspy voice as that of Raylene Garrett. Preferring not to deal with the woman this early in the morning, if at all, Charlene considered leaving a large bill on the table to cover her coffee and tip, and then making a quick exit.
Instead, she forced herself to stay rather than run. To meet the situation head-on, no matter the early hour and the lack of sleep.
Raylene returned minutes later with a handful of creamers on a small plate. “Sally says the sports car out there belongs to you. Nice car.”
“Thanks, Raylene, glad you like it.”
The waitress stopped focused on Charlene for the first time. Only seconds passed before her puzzled expression turned to recognition.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Charlene White. Is it really you?”
“Well, it’s Billows now, has been for years, but yes.”
“Oh, that’s right. How could I forget that? So what in God’s name are you doing here? Does Roy know?”
“Doubtful, since I arrived less than an hour ago, though, as I recall, news always did travel fast in this town.”
“Yeah, especially bad news. Please tell me you’re just passing through.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but no.”
“What business could you possibly have here?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Charlene lied. Her business there did concern Raylene in a way, and she hated that it did. Raylene had never been her favorite person. And Raylene despised her.
The woman had not aged well over the years. The lines on her face and neck were profound, as were the crow’s feet around her eyes. Her upper lip had shriveled, overpowered by deep vertical lines above it. The dry West Texas air and sun had taken their toll on her, as well as years of a nasty cigarette habit.
“Everything about you, Charlene Billows, concerns me, especially when it involves my baby brother. I hope, for his sake, you’re just here to pay your respects to your folks and that you’ll move along down the highway once you have. Or turn around and head back wherever you came from.”
“Certainly, I’ll visit my parents while I’m here, but I won’t be leaving right afterward. I’m here for a purpose, and I won’t be leaving until that is achieved. And yes, if you must know, my reason for being here does involve Roy.”
“I can’t imagine what business you could possibly have with Roy after all these years. You stabbed him in the back 20 years ago. So, what are you here for now? To twist the knife? To cause him more pain? Obviously, you’re doing quite well with your fancy sports car and your large diamond ring. Are you here to throw it all in his face?”
“I would never do such a thing. Yes, I hurt Roy all those years ago, and I’ve never forgiven myself for it. I assure you, I’m not here to hurt him more.”
“So, why are you here then?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
The restaurant was starting to get busy. A third waitress had come on duty.
“I have customers to tend to at the moment, Charlene, but we’re not finished talking. I want to know why you’re here.”
“Well, I’m done talking to you, Raylene. And I’m suddenly ravenous. Could I please see a breakfast menu? A clean one, preferably.”
Charlene hadn’t ordered anything but coffee when she first sat in the booth, not ready for food at the time. Her stomach now churned. She wasn’t sure whether she had a case of nerves settling in or hunger pains.
Several minutes passed before Raylene returned with a menu. In the meantime, Charlene studied the third waitress, who stood at a table close to the front door, taking the order of two men who seemed to be flirting with her. Charlene guessed this waitress to be in her early thirties. She was attractive, with curves in all the right places, her large breasts bulging over the top of the too-tight pink uniform. She didn’t seem to mind the flirting or one of the gentleman’s hands on her ass.
Charlene squirmed in her seat as she recalled her days of waiting tables. Those memories were far from fond. She’d hated those days. She hated the men who, just like that one, believed it was okay to put their hands on her rear as long as they left a big tip. Of course, she needed the large tips back then, but she couldn’t stand their hands on her, especially the filthy older men. She’d always slap their hands away, even if it cost her a tip.
She’d almost lost her job once for dumping a man’s dinner in his lap. But her boss had let the incident pass when she learned what the man had said. Charlene could still recall the man’s filthy words as if he’d just said them.
“The whole town knows you fuck the quarterback, sweetheart. How about fucking a real man? I hear the quarterback’s pecker is as small as his pea-sized brain. Bet you don’t even know it’s there.”
Charlene had never repeated the man’s vulgar words to anyone other than her boss, especially not the quarterback.
After finally ordering scrambled eggs and toast, Charlene opened her oversized handbag, pulled out her compact, and checked herself in the mirror. She pinched her cheeks to add color and dabbed red lip gloss from her bag onto her colorless lips, blotting them afterward with a tissue. She ran her fingers through her hair, frowning. It was a disaster, but nothing short of shampoo, a blow-dryer, and a styling iron would improve it.
After returning the objects to her bag, she pulled out her cell phone and checked whether anyone in Dallas had tried to reach her. Seeing no new notifications, she placed the phone back in her bag and scanned the room again. When the front door of the coffee shop opened and a large man wearing a black cowboy hat and boots entered, Charlene’s heart skipped a beat.
