The Comfortable Arrangement

As much as I would have liked to have stalled or ran away altogether, I knew I couldn’t. I didn’t know exactly how this conversation was going to go but I, at least, owed Phil enough to have it. He had taken me in and let me live with them when he knew he didn’t have to. I could have easily been tossed into the system, ending up in a foster home somewhere halfway across the country but I didn’t. I know part of it was him feeling that he owed me for taking care of Nate when he wasn’t around and another equal part not knowing how to take care of Nate and be a father himself. For the time, it just worked out for all of us. I took care of Nate and the house, worked when I could and either gave him money to help with bills or bought groceries and necessities for the house.

Neither of us ever thought to question the arrangement until it was forced upon us. I grew up. I was no longer the scrawny, awkward fourteen year old girl he took guardianship of that tragic night. He saved me and I, in turn, stepped up as the caregiver and woman of the house. Phil had never, not once, made any inappropriate comments to me. He had never touched me inappropriately. In fact, he tried to stay away and not touch me at all.

He had a decent relationship with Nate. Nate addressed him as “Daddy” and Phil made sure he was taken care of while I was at work at the diner but it was always after I had handled the everyday tasks of feeding them both, giving Nate his bath each night and making sure everything else in the house was caught up and manageable. Phil only had to come home from work, eat and shower and then kick back with a beer or two and watch television. He let Nate stay up with him, playing around in the living room or watching the tube with him until bedtime. He would put him to bed, tuck him in and then have the house to himself until he went to bed. Story time was reserved for only the nights I was home but Nate didn’t mind and the arrangement was comfortable for all of us.

The nights that I worked, I pulled seven to close, which was two in the morning plus clean up time afterwards, usually meaning we were able to leave around three. I always worked with Barb and John, the owners of the joint. They both hated early mornings so they had a well trusted morning crew that opened up each day that included Barb’s sister, Linda, who ran a very tight ship. Barb and John would show up every day around two in the afternoon. John would take his place on the grill line while Barb worked up the deposits, paychecks and other paperwork in the office and had her daily catch up “conference” with Linda. She would get all of the office work and errands caught up by the time the other girls left for the day, often taking Linda with her so they could spend a few hours of quality time together.

Sheila, Melinda and Darcy rotated the middle shift, working from eleven in the morning until I came in at seven. Once I got there, they would cash out their tips and head home. I worked the diner with Barb with John in the back as our grill cook and muscle, the rest of the night. As such, Barb had taken me under her wing and we had become close. They had a niece just a couple years older than I was that I had met but never worked with named Candace. She was Linda’s youngest. She took the shifts opposite me, usually working four nights a week to my three.

Barb and John were both good people, simple and honest, hard working country folks that didn’t want and didn’t expect much out of their lives. They had never had any children of their own so they treated their crew like family but Barb admitted she had a soft spot for me. They made sure I was dropped off at home each night and would wait until I was inside and had flashed the porch light before they drove off, heading home. Barb had often talked to me about how handsome Phil was and if I had ever considered the two of us having something together but I had always just brushed her off, telling her flat out that it wasn’t like that and that I didn’t harbor any feelings for him.