I Am Stronger Because of All I've Been Through
[b]---- In Fields of Splendor ---- Part 3 [/b]
Memoirs from my summer after graduation from high school . . .
Continued from Part 2 . . .
https://similarworlds.com/story?fid=4832201&tid=162822&name=I-Am-Stronger-Because-of-All-I-ve-Been-Throug
A Young Man and Young Woman Meet & Talk Under Strange Circumstances
———————————————————————————————————
On my third day while working my new job at the diner, I mistakenly nudged open the door to the dish washing room and to my surprise noticed none other than, Brandon McClary! He was washing and rinsing dishes, and seemed lost in his work, oblivious to my presence when he happened to turn and notice me. He put down the large pot he was holding and gave a wave with his free hand.
I knew Brandon from school, though not well. He transferred in half way through his junior year. His father was in the Air Force stationed in Plattsburg. He was quiet, and looked out the window a lot, and often seemed to be day dreaming abouit something.
Brandon was bruised, with large scabs on his fore arm, and walked with a slight limp. It took a few days before we found each other on the back stairs of the diner while taking a break. Brandon was stretched out across the bottom stair tread, in a contorted position as he was adjusting his body in such a way to not cause him pain.
I sat down near him. “I heard about your accident, a car crash, right?” I asked. Brandon looked up at me with a tired expression. “Well not really an accident.” he said. “Ok, if not an accident, then what happened?” I asked. “I opened the door and stepped out.” he answered.
I was trying hard not to press, but I was growing more curious by the moment, and I didn’t have much time left on my break. “Stepped out of what?” I continued. “My mother’s car.” he answered. “So, you stepped out of your mother’s car? I’m confused.” I said. Brandon looked up at me and with a wry smile. “The car was moving.” he finally said.
Perplexed, I sat quietly for a moment trying to take this all in. “Oh, ok, I think I understand.” I said quietly. The scene was playing out in my mind. I imagined the car traveling along, the door opening, and Brandon stepping out. After a moment, I had to clear my mind as I had trouble imagining the rest of the scene, especially as I studied the cuts and bruises on Brandon’s arms and face. After a long pause, I began to giggle a little, which eventually grew to an uproarious laugh. I laughed and laughed for the longest time until I didn’t I think I could stop.
Brandon looked up at me with a curious expression, which melted into a smile, and then he knew I understood.
A few days later, Brandon dumped a tray of dishes which could be heard from all over the diner. Larry rushed in and a moment later Brandon disappeared into the darkness. Larry emerged from the kitchen looking puzzled. “He didn’t say anything, he just handed me his apron and walked out! ”
Working at the diner was hard work. We never stopped. Larry barked at us all the time yelling "Faster." The truck drivers were ok except for a few rude customers. I was whistled at, taunted, teased, jabbed, squeezed, and pinched, which after a few days I didn’t seem to even notice any more. I had become a fallen women giving into every vice the 24 hour truck stop had to offer, except for one. I had already noticed women hanging out around the truck stop at different times. There, I claimed inexperience.
In my three weeks at the diner, I can only say that I’ve never worked so hard in my life. My clean white blouse was slopped with ketchup, mustard and gravy. My feet were so sore after a week I was wearing comfort souls in my shoes. I went home in the morning with a aching back and a throbbing headache. My mother would look at me when I got home in the morning wondering when I would finally drop over and fall on my face. But my pockets were full of cash and that kept me going … for a while anyway.
I would leave my waitress job at 6 in the morning and show up at my stocking job at the market at 8 . I was so tired that I began to move around like a zombie. One morning Whitey the assistant manager asked, “Do you realize your apron is on inside out?” I looked at him blankly and then looked down to see that he was right, it was on inside out. “Oh yes, so it is,” I sheepishly answered. He called my Dad to come get me, and told me to go home and get some rest.
"Be True to Thine Own Self"
———————————————————————
One evening, Donna, one of the popular girls from my class, was holding court down by the boat dock and public beach. With her where several boys in tow as part of her royal train. The boat dock was a popular hang out. I rarely hung out there. I felt so awkward, and unconnected to that whole scene, but somehow this night I felt like joining in.
I had just finished an afternoon of sailing with my uncle. I was carrying my gym bag with all the extra gear I used to bring when I went sailing. “Hey Monique, where have you been? It looks likes you’ve been out on the water?” Donna called. “Sailing with my uncle.” I called back.
I was not a popular girl, and envied those who were, and yet over time, I weighed the cost of being popular, over being true to myself, and my true friends.
“Monique, what’s the name of that college you’re going to?” Donna called. I had to set her straight. "You know very well the name of the college.” I answered. “Oh yes, I guess I do, heh heh.” she replied. Of course, Donna was going to “State,” one of the big power house schools with sports programs and thousands of students on campus.
“Monique, do you suppose your uncle would teach me how to sail?” she called. That’s something I would love to see I thought to myself, Donna scrambling around the deck with my uncle shouting commands. I could just see her all flustered and shaking with fear while she tried to lash a rope to the cleat, using the right knot of course. Oh yeah, I thought with evil intent, he’ll teach you the right way to sail.
My first time sailing with my uncle, I dove into the water 100 yards from the doc and swam to shore shouting “Mutiny, mutiny, down with Captain Bligh.” The people on the doc thought it was quite funny, but not my uncle. The next day, I took a book out from the library on basic sailing, with diagrams explaining how the various parts that make up a sail boat. Then, I was ready for the next lesson.
“Oh, I’m sure he would. He’s a very good instructor.” I called back to Donna. ‘Oh, that’s great to hear.” she called back.
------ to be continued --------
Memoirs from my summer after graduation from high school . . .
Continued from Part 2 . . .
https://similarworlds.com/story?fid=4832201&tid=162822&name=I-Am-Stronger-Because-of-All-I-ve-Been-Throug
A Young Man and Young Woman Meet & Talk Under Strange Circumstances
———————————————————————————————————
On my third day while working my new job at the diner, I mistakenly nudged open the door to the dish washing room and to my surprise noticed none other than, Brandon McClary! He was washing and rinsing dishes, and seemed lost in his work, oblivious to my presence when he happened to turn and notice me. He put down the large pot he was holding and gave a wave with his free hand.
I knew Brandon from school, though not well. He transferred in half way through his junior year. His father was in the Air Force stationed in Plattsburg. He was quiet, and looked out the window a lot, and often seemed to be day dreaming abouit something.
Brandon was bruised, with large scabs on his fore arm, and walked with a slight limp. It took a few days before we found each other on the back stairs of the diner while taking a break. Brandon was stretched out across the bottom stair tread, in a contorted position as he was adjusting his body in such a way to not cause him pain.
I sat down near him. “I heard about your accident, a car crash, right?” I asked. Brandon looked up at me with a tired expression. “Well not really an accident.” he said. “Ok, if not an accident, then what happened?” I asked. “I opened the door and stepped out.” he answered.
I was trying hard not to press, but I was growing more curious by the moment, and I didn’t have much time left on my break. “Stepped out of what?” I continued. “My mother’s car.” he answered. “So, you stepped out of your mother’s car? I’m confused.” I said. Brandon looked up at me and with a wry smile. “The car was moving.” he finally said.
Perplexed, I sat quietly for a moment trying to take this all in. “Oh, ok, I think I understand.” I said quietly. The scene was playing out in my mind. I imagined the car traveling along, the door opening, and Brandon stepping out. After a moment, I had to clear my mind as I had trouble imagining the rest of the scene, especially as I studied the cuts and bruises on Brandon’s arms and face. After a long pause, I began to giggle a little, which eventually grew to an uproarious laugh. I laughed and laughed for the longest time until I didn’t I think I could stop.
Brandon looked up at me with a curious expression, which melted into a smile, and then he knew I understood.
A few days later, Brandon dumped a tray of dishes which could be heard from all over the diner. Larry rushed in and a moment later Brandon disappeared into the darkness. Larry emerged from the kitchen looking puzzled. “He didn’t say anything, he just handed me his apron and walked out! ”
Working at the diner was hard work. We never stopped. Larry barked at us all the time yelling "Faster." The truck drivers were ok except for a few rude customers. I was whistled at, taunted, teased, jabbed, squeezed, and pinched, which after a few days I didn’t seem to even notice any more. I had become a fallen women giving into every vice the 24 hour truck stop had to offer, except for one. I had already noticed women hanging out around the truck stop at different times. There, I claimed inexperience.
In my three weeks at the diner, I can only say that I’ve never worked so hard in my life. My clean white blouse was slopped with ketchup, mustard and gravy. My feet were so sore after a week I was wearing comfort souls in my shoes. I went home in the morning with a aching back and a throbbing headache. My mother would look at me when I got home in the morning wondering when I would finally drop over and fall on my face. But my pockets were full of cash and that kept me going … for a while anyway.
I would leave my waitress job at 6 in the morning and show up at my stocking job at the market at 8 . I was so tired that I began to move around like a zombie. One morning Whitey the assistant manager asked, “Do you realize your apron is on inside out?” I looked at him blankly and then looked down to see that he was right, it was on inside out. “Oh yes, so it is,” I sheepishly answered. He called my Dad to come get me, and told me to go home and get some rest.
"Be True to Thine Own Self"
———————————————————————
One evening, Donna, one of the popular girls from my class, was holding court down by the boat dock and public beach. With her where several boys in tow as part of her royal train. The boat dock was a popular hang out. I rarely hung out there. I felt so awkward, and unconnected to that whole scene, but somehow this night I felt like joining in.
I had just finished an afternoon of sailing with my uncle. I was carrying my gym bag with all the extra gear I used to bring when I went sailing. “Hey Monique, where have you been? It looks likes you’ve been out on the water?” Donna called. “Sailing with my uncle.” I called back.
I was not a popular girl, and envied those who were, and yet over time, I weighed the cost of being popular, over being true to myself, and my true friends.
“Monique, what’s the name of that college you’re going to?” Donna called. I had to set her straight. "You know very well the name of the college.” I answered. “Oh yes, I guess I do, heh heh.” she replied. Of course, Donna was going to “State,” one of the big power house schools with sports programs and thousands of students on campus.
“Monique, do you suppose your uncle would teach me how to sail?” she called. That’s something I would love to see I thought to myself, Donna scrambling around the deck with my uncle shouting commands. I could just see her all flustered and shaking with fear while she tried to lash a rope to the cleat, using the right knot of course. Oh yeah, I thought with evil intent, he’ll teach you the right way to sail.
My first time sailing with my uncle, I dove into the water 100 yards from the doc and swam to shore shouting “Mutiny, mutiny, down with Captain Bligh.” The people on the doc thought it was quite funny, but not my uncle. The next day, I took a book out from the library on basic sailing, with diagrams explaining how the various parts that make up a sail boat. Then, I was ready for the next lesson.
“Oh, I’m sure he would. He’s a very good instructor.” I called back to Donna. ‘Oh, that’s great to hear.” she called back.
------ to be continued --------
51-55, F
