Stone

I get dressed and eat breakfast in the small kitchenette/dining room downstairs by the lobby. It takes me ten minutes to drink a small glass of orange juice and eat a bagel covered in a light layer of strawberry jam. I sit alone under the old television, sitting high on a shelf in the corner of the room. No one else comes to the dining room for breakfast. I wonder momentarily if anyone else is even staying at the hotel, but then I remember the number of cars in the lot outside.

I’m only back on the highway for a few minutes when I hit town. I turn off onto one of the roads and find myself driving through a complex of life, finding a mass of churches, banks and a racquetball center. After turning left on 6th, then right onto Main Street, I drive slowly through what I can assume to be the town square, the oldest part of town where the buildings are still made of the same brick from years ago, windows painted with words in golden letters. Parks and Recreation, Human Resources, the Police station, Gas and Water, The Mayor’s Office and the City Clerk, among others.

Ambling around, in some ways, is easier than purposely looking for each place I may need to see. This was I run across places I hadn’t planned, got a better feel for where things might be in town, and it just felt like it took less time that way. I was trading time planning for time exploring, which was always more enjoyable than the former. I took note of a few shop fronts, mentally reminding myself to stop back before I headed home today. The horrible truth was I was going to need a job and soon – I could only live on my savings from Jacksonville for so long.

Though the demand for it is was not as high as a paying job, I also needed to be looking for a place to stay and settle down. I knew that it meant tough times ahead – gas, food, shelter, all of that being paid with by the money I make from some job that pays minimum wage. Heck, if I could even get a job. The young woman in the flower shop handed me a two-page application with a small smile, saying only a handful of words to me for the whole five minutes of me standing in the store, inhaling the smell of spider lilies and roses and tulips.

At noon, I leave my car in the Walgreens parking lot and retrace my steps to the restaurant I had noticed earlier about a block away. I was tired of burgers wrapped in plastic and drinking from to-go cups. All I wanted was to sit down, eat a warm meal, and feel somewhat closer to this town – even if it meant simply opting for a sit-down rather than one of the drive-thru windows I had seen on the highway just outside of Somerset. I ordered a coke to drink and a cheeseburger. After my waitress left, I pulled the blue folder I had with me out from its place under my bag next to me in the booth, opening and laying it out on the table. I pulled the three applications I had acquired that morning out, setting them side-by-side across from me. I found a pen at the bottom of my bag and pulled the middle application toward me, skimming the first few words and beginning to pen my name.

I had just finished my first application, for the gas station by my hotel, when my drink arrived. I thanked her quietly, not paying much attention as I headed into the next pile of paperwork. My cup was still full of drink when she came back, the straw never having been touched, as she returned with a warm plate and a rather large cheeseburger, sitting in the middle of several condiment packets, lettuce, tomatoes, onions and pickles.

I hurried to move my things as she stood next to my table, holding the warm plate with her fingertips. I apologized profusely, ruffling my papers as I stacked them into one huge pile next to the salt and pepper shakers, the third and final application of the day precariously placed on top.

“Oh, it’s fine, sugar,” she said, finally placing my meal down in front of me. She tapped the side of my glass, taking note of how full it was with a nod. She smiled at me. “Do you need anything else?” I shook my head, thanking her, before looking down at my burger. I took the top bun off, picking up a piece of lettuce to set on top of my cheese. I was going in for the small clutter of pickles next to my onions when I realized my waitress hadn’t left.

“Do you mind if I sit?” She asked, gesturing to the bench across from me. I stared at for a moment, my fingers poised over my plate. At a loss for a reason to say no, I nodded my head. “It’s my break,” she explained, scooting into the seat across from me. I nodded again, looking back down at my plate.

“Go ahead and eat!” she said, eyes wide. Her hands were stretched in front of her, fingers spread. I noticed a golden wedding band on her left ring finger. “Don’t let me stop you, hon. Besides, that’s one of Ted’s burgers. Everyone knows how good they are. Eat up!”

I finished off the set up of my burger, spreading some ketchup on the bottom of my top bun and choosing an onion. I took a long drink of coke before piling my burger back together, taking a fair bite. I chewed slow, then faster, looking up at my waitress – Mary, I read on her tag – with wide eyes.

“This is fabulous!” I said, going in for another bite. Mary, my on-break waitress, smiled.

“Have you never been here before?” she asked. I shook my head. She nodded in understanding. “That makes sense, then. See we’ve got a few cooks here and the food is great all the time, but,” she leaned in closer some, lowering her voice. “You always see people coming in asking if Ted’s workin’. If he’s not, sometimes they go home. His burgers are the best. But don’t mention that aloud. We all know it but we don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

I nodded, understanding. I was almost halfway done with my own burger and in no state of mind to stop until it was all gone. I watched as Mary looked down at her phone, then noticing the papers at her elbow. She gave me a questioning look, nodding at them. I pointed a finger, letting her know I didn’t care if she looked. She leafed through the pages before setting them back on top of my folder in a neater stack than before.

Mary was most likely in her mid-thirties, I figured, as I watched her scan my applications. The band on her finger didn’t shine like it was relatively new, or had been cleaned in months. Her hair was a light brown, like a chestnut color, and fell just past her shoulders. She had a nice, relaxed smile that showed in the corners of her lips and the faint wrinkles she had acquired over the years.

“This is no good, honey,” she said, looking at me. “The gas station is not a place that you want to work, trust me. It’s disgusting and full of sleaze balls after nine at night. The Walgreens doesn’t hire people, either. They just let people fill out the application in case anything happens. I’ve been on the waiting list since before I started working here, which was years ago. No one ever quits, no one ever gets hired.”

“What about the flower shop?”

She bit her lip. “I heard they’re going out of business. Jobs are tough to get around here, sweetie. Unfortunately, Somerset isn’t the place to be for employment. Speaking of, why are you here? I know fairly well that you cannot be from around these parts if you’ve never had Ted’s burgers and are lookin’ for some work.”

I took another sip of my coke. “I’m from Florida. I just moved here yesterday. I’m looking for work, because I’m staying in a hotel off the highway until I can find a place to rent, and I need to get settled.”

“You moved here from Florida?” I nodded. “You’re crazy, girl.”

Mary got me another glass of coke, since her break was technically over. She took my plate back to the kitchen, returning with my bill and another sheet of paper. She placed my bill down next to me perspiring glass, then held the paper out for me.

“This is an application for a waitressing position,” she said. “You seem like a good kid, and Earl is always looking for hard workers. You got any experience?”

“I’ve worked at grocers,” I said.

“I’m sure you’ll get it, then. Food is food, right? Pre-packaged or cooked! Just fill this out and leave it with your bill, I’ll get it to him. He’s the owner.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” I said, looking down at the paper in front of me. There were maybe ten lines of questions, printed neatly from a computer.

“I might not have had to, but I did! Listen, girl, I know it’s hard out there to get work. You’re new. You ain’t got nobody here to help you ‘cause you’re from out of town. I like to think I’m a nice lady, so I’m gonna give you a break. I’ll put in a really good word for you. Those other places would turn you down, not because of anything being wrong with ya, but just ‘cause no one can afford to have more workers. Not like we can. I mean, you had a Ted burger.”

I nodded, chuckling slightly at this. I thanked her again and she brushed off my gratitude, asking if I wanted to take a Styrofoam cup of my coke with me when I left. I said no, and she wished me a good day, winking as she nodded toward the application, before ambling off to take care of another table. I looked around – she was right; restaurant or not, Miller’s was bustling with more life than any of the other places I had visited in my day in town.

I filled out the application; it only asked for my name, address, telephone number, any references, and skills. My address was subject to change, I wrote, but was currently the bottom floor of the Motel 6. My references were my past bosses and my skills were as follows: cash register experience, customer experience, people skills, polite, and cleanliness. I signed my name at the bottom, printing it underneath, and pushed it to the middle of the table. I checked my bill, then my bag, finding my wallet.

I left a five and three ones for Mary, which meant I was paying her a tip twice the cost of my meal. She was a good waitress and besides, she was helping me. She was right when she said we all needed help sometimes, and that it was okay to lend a hand. A lot of people don’t understand that concept anymore – it made me warm inside, knowing that someone had my back here. If only just so, from a stranger’s eyes. It made me feel like I might, just maybe, be able to call this place home.