Take It With Me
Adios Lounge
One morning, when Kitty was pulling on her ugly white shoes, she felt something that was similar to hope.
She didn’t know why. Maybe it was because she was almost looking forward to seeing Betty. Maybe it was because she had successfully smoked one of the cigarette butts that Tom had left in the ashtray.
And maybe it was because her heart didn’t shatter when she thought about Tom.
It had been almost two weeks since he left. He hadn’t called. No letters had came. No word about him at all.
It was almost nice. Kitty thought about how people kept up with musicians in 2010. Countless tweets and Tumblr posts and Facebook updates.
The 70’s was like this bubble. No one knew anything about anybody. It was strictly word of mouth.
And that was nice. Kitty knew that if she had constant updates about him, news of who he had been rumored to be sleeping with, where he was, what he was doing, it would kill her.
But surprisingly, that out of sight, out of mind thing was beginning to work.
She sighed, pulling her hair up into a loose bun. Grabbing her coat, she walked out the door and clomped down the hall to the flight of stairs.
As she walked down stairs and into the street, she sighed.
She was getting acquainted with New Orleans. She didn’t hate it so much. Sure, she still cried at night, missing her mama and daddy and siblings. But during the day, when her mind was busy with work, it was almost tolerable.
The music was nice here. And so was the food.
Kitty chuckled. She’d gained at least five pounds since she’d starting working at the diner. She’d have to get that under control. She couldn’t afford to bust out of the clothes she’d bought.
Now that had been an adventure. After countless stores, she’d finally managed to find the basics. Jeans, t-shirts, things that weren’t hideous or badly-cut or plaid.
Kitty didn’t understand the strange love affair that the 70’s obviously had with plaid.
She smiled, still lost in her thoughts, and walked on until she arrived at the Golden Crescent.
The bell rang as she walked in and Betty laughed and waved, refilling coffee cups at lightning speed, and Bo and Jacques, the cooks, winked and whooped at her as she took off her coat.
The diner was starting to feel like home. She’d gotten better at waitressing, and now it was almost nice. Methodical. Uncomplicated.
As she plodded contentedly through the morning rush and the afternoon lull, she noticed that one man had sat at a corner table, sipping on the same cup of coffee.
“Sir, can I get you anything else?” she asked, refilling his mug. He was young. Handsome. Dark haired and eyed. Tall. Nice features.
The man smiled. He had nice teeth. White and even.
“Yeah, you can. Do you want to go somewhere with me tonight?”
Kitty balked. The little wounds that Tom had left re-opened, and she had to fight to keep her composure. With a forced smile, she laughed a little and started to walk away.
“Come back a few more times and we’ll see,” she called over her shoulder.
She stalked into the kitchen, taking off her apron.
“Betty, I’m going out for my smoke break,” she said. Betty gave her a thumbs up, and Kitty almost ran into the back alley. She didn’t want to smoke.
She just hated feeling this way. One offer of a date from a man, and she was in pieces again.
Why did she let Tom do this to her?
Kicking at an old beer can, she took a deep breath. She couldn’t let him do this to her.
Tom was gone. She doubted that he was ever coming back. Maybe if he’d call, but apparently he couldn’t even do that. And if he couldn’t even call her, why should she just sit around, waiting on him?
No. Kitty wasn’t going to do it. Setting her chin, she got up and tramped back inside, intending on telling the man that yes, she would go on a date with him, she had the perfect dress for the occasion.
But when she looked in the dining room, he was gone.
Just like Tom.
She didn’t know why. Maybe it was because she was almost looking forward to seeing Betty. Maybe it was because she had successfully smoked one of the cigarette butts that Tom had left in the ashtray.
And maybe it was because her heart didn’t shatter when she thought about Tom.
It had been almost two weeks since he left. He hadn’t called. No letters had came. No word about him at all.
It was almost nice. Kitty thought about how people kept up with musicians in 2010. Countless tweets and Tumblr posts and Facebook updates.
The 70’s was like this bubble. No one knew anything about anybody. It was strictly word of mouth.
And that was nice. Kitty knew that if she had constant updates about him, news of who he had been rumored to be sleeping with, where he was, what he was doing, it would kill her.
But surprisingly, that out of sight, out of mind thing was beginning to work.
She sighed, pulling her hair up into a loose bun. Grabbing her coat, she walked out the door and clomped down the hall to the flight of stairs.
As she walked down stairs and into the street, she sighed.
She was getting acquainted with New Orleans. She didn’t hate it so much. Sure, she still cried at night, missing her mama and daddy and siblings. But during the day, when her mind was busy with work, it was almost tolerable.
The music was nice here. And so was the food.
Kitty chuckled. She’d gained at least five pounds since she’d starting working at the diner. She’d have to get that under control. She couldn’t afford to bust out of the clothes she’d bought.
Now that had been an adventure. After countless stores, she’d finally managed to find the basics. Jeans, t-shirts, things that weren’t hideous or badly-cut or plaid.
Kitty didn’t understand the strange love affair that the 70’s obviously had with plaid.
She smiled, still lost in her thoughts, and walked on until she arrived at the Golden Crescent.
The bell rang as she walked in and Betty laughed and waved, refilling coffee cups at lightning speed, and Bo and Jacques, the cooks, winked and whooped at her as she took off her coat.
The diner was starting to feel like home. She’d gotten better at waitressing, and now it was almost nice. Methodical. Uncomplicated.
As she plodded contentedly through the morning rush and the afternoon lull, she noticed that one man had sat at a corner table, sipping on the same cup of coffee.
“Sir, can I get you anything else?” she asked, refilling his mug. He was young. Handsome. Dark haired and eyed. Tall. Nice features.
The man smiled. He had nice teeth. White and even.
“Yeah, you can. Do you want to go somewhere with me tonight?”
Kitty balked. The little wounds that Tom had left re-opened, and she had to fight to keep her composure. With a forced smile, she laughed a little and started to walk away.
“Come back a few more times and we’ll see,” she called over her shoulder.
She stalked into the kitchen, taking off her apron.
“Betty, I’m going out for my smoke break,” she said. Betty gave her a thumbs up, and Kitty almost ran into the back alley. She didn’t want to smoke.
She just hated feeling this way. One offer of a date from a man, and she was in pieces again.
Why did she let Tom do this to her?
Kicking at an old beer can, she took a deep breath. She couldn’t let him do this to her.
Tom was gone. She doubted that he was ever coming back. Maybe if he’d call, but apparently he couldn’t even do that. And if he couldn’t even call her, why should she just sit around, waiting on him?
No. Kitty wasn’t going to do it. Setting her chin, she got up and tramped back inside, intending on telling the man that yes, she would go on a date with him, she had the perfect dress for the occasion.
But when she looked in the dining room, he was gone.
Just like Tom.