I had mini-conversations with Bart through out his lunch. I had other customers to serve, but I checked-in on him when necessary to see if he needed anything. During my short stops at his table, we discovered tidbits of information about each other. He said he was a senior advertising major at HSU -- Henderson State University --, and he lived in a small college town a few miles south of Hot Springs. AND his Daddy was a Baptist preacher who had a church in some town north of Little Rock. By his mannerisms and speech patterns, I assumed he wasn't gay, and that he was just a good Samaritan. (( Imagine finding one of those among Baptists.......))
That is about all I learned about him because I didn't really care to find out anymore after he divulged his family background. IF he was on a curiosity quest and stepping outside of his Baptist box, I didn't want to be his guinea pig. I'd been there and done that, and it just wasn't what it was cracked up to be. Yes, he was very attractive -- muscular, blonde and beautiful Doe eyes, but so what? I'd had gorgeous, and I'd had mediocre. They were all the same..................... He, however, was full of questions for me. I distanced myself a bit from him, but I complied with his interrogation about my life. He wanted to know where I was from. Where I lived. Why I moved to Hot Springs. What my holiday plans were. All of his questions were purely surface, and I told myself in my head that he never asked a question that would allow me to reveal me.
Eventually, he finished his lunch. I took his plate away and dropped his check. I did everything by the book, and I was a dutiful waiter, but I wasn't me for him. I was just doing my job and being fake friendly. I disappeared to the kitchen with his plates and came back through the swinging kitchen door with more chips and salsa for another table. When I returned to my section in the window, he was standing and ready to leave. I, actually, expected him to already be gone.
"What are your plans for tonight?" he asked.
"I'm a double today, so this is my long day. I won't get out of here til 8:30 or 9:00, so I guess I plan on working, " I replied.
"That's a long day.... I'll see you later, " and with that he was gone. Yeah, I told myself, he was just a nice guy. I'd misinterpreted his defense of me as interest, and he was just one of those rare, nice guys who wanted people to be treated properly, but I still couldn't figure out why he'd shown up at Mother's.
I went to his table to finish clearing it off and squarely in the middle of it was a 20.00 bill. I smiled to myself. I'd actually had a very good lunch financially because of him. The red-neck had thrown 47.00 on my table, and now, Bart had left me 20.00, not to mention the rest of my customers who had tipped me heavily. I had over 150.00 in my apron pocket, and I attributed it to the spectacle not to my amazing servant abilities. Secretly I hoped for a spectacle everyday..........Cuz I'd never made that much money in 4 hours in my life. I tried to attribute their tips to the entertainment they'd witnessed, after all, they'd had dinner AND a show, but deep in my heart, I knew the customers had been generous because they had felt sorry for me..............That bothered me slightly, but............Oh well, money is money......... I reached down to pick up the tip Bart had left, and I just had to smile. He had written his phone number on it in big, red numbers..................Hell, I'll never call him. It was probably a joke mirroring Mother's tip last night, anyway. But, it made me smile, and I put it in my wallet, not in my apron where I kept my other tips.
"Boy, come here," some old lady voice said behind me.
I turned around to see a bottom-heavy elderly lady with a white cotton candy hair-do, trying to steady herself on the steps with a mahogany and brass cane.
"Yes, ma'am," I said like a waiter as I walked over to her.
"I jus want ye tah know, dat we love our faggots,"she said as she raised her cane for emphasis and then set it back down on the step to steady her wobbly knees. She kind of shook like she had Parkinson's, but that didn't stop her. She had a whole lot more to say, but she spoke sweetly in a grandmotherly tone, "I don't know what we'd do widdout ya'll tah wait on us. Ever since thuh 70s, dese niggahs got all uppity on us, and we couldn't get dem to do a damn thang without dem screamin' discrimynation....but we figured out yew faggots were jus as good as dem niggahs. I got rid of mah niggah housemaid and got me a good faggot to clean my house, and he's a damn good decorator and florist, too. I got a fairy to do my hair and my seamstressin', and I even have a faggot mechanic. AND my husband loved all ye faggots, Lord rest his soul. I guess ya'll are de new servants of thuh south, and I jus want ye to know dat we love our faggots -- jus 'member tah stay in your place."
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