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It was cold, but they had warm clothes now and, besides, nobody else seemed to notice how frigid it was. Her phone showed the temperature to be fifty degrees Fahrenheit, far below the balmy seventy degrees of the coldest months back home. Their Tanistanian blood just hadn’t adjusted. Another good reason for being outside.
“As far as I’m concerned, we don’t have security. We’re here on our own and we’ll get by on our own. We’re strong, independent women. Look who our mothers are. Do you think they would have been happy being driven around by security?”
“Our moms know how to drive. They wouldn’t have run into a house,” Rica said with a giggle.
Janel was mad at herself for doing something so silly. She’d never been in an accident of any type. Hitting a house had been a very traumatic experience and that ass of a man hadn’t helped matters. He made her nervous anyway. Well, not really nervous, it was more like he made her aware that she was a woman. Feelings she hadn’t had in a very long time. A woman who was nearing thirty and had never experienced an orgasm that wasn’t by her own hand.
She’d not wanted to wait to have sex, but James wouldn’t bend on waiting until they were married. Janel trusted their wedding would take place after they graduated, so she’d not pushed. Now she wished she had. At least she would’ve known the touch of a man.
Grumpy neighbor had nice, large hands. The thought of those hands on her body, touching her most intimate places, made her shiver with unfulfilled need. If she knew how to flirt, would she be brave enough to act on those feelings? With him. The answer to that was a big fat no. She’d never go against what she’d been taught since the day she was born.
“Ree, do you ever crave freedom? I mean, to an extent, everything about our future was basically decided as soon as we were born.”
Rica jumped and swatted a low hanging tree limb, sending a cascade of dead leaves down around them. “We got to go to college. We get to pick whom we marry. None of our parents would ever make us marry for position or wealth. They want us to be happy.”
Brushing the leaves off her new used coat, she agreed, “I know, and you’re right. We got to choose a college from a very small list of approved universities and colleges and, with security in tow, we did attend college.”
“Is that why we’re here? For freedom?” Rica chuckled, glancing back at the dark sedan following them at a not-too-close distance. “I hate to tell you, babe, but we had more freedom back in Tanistan.”
When they turned the corner, Janel noticed the traffic picked up and a few stores were coming into view. It wasn’t really a main street, more like a few businesses on the side of the road. “Look, there’s a town up ahead.”
“That’s not a town.” Rica gasped. “Oh, good, there’s a place to get food. I’m starving.”
“Wouldn’t it be wild if this was the place mom used to work?” She knew it wasn’t, but she planned to visit the diner where her parents met. True love like her parents was what she longed for. That’s what she would’ve had if James had lived.
A bell over the door announced their entry. Without looking up, a man behind the counter snapped, “Take a seat. I’ll be with you when I can. If you’re in a hurry, leave.”
Janel glanced at Rica and she shrugged. Maybe Americans were rude by nature. Her mom and aunt had nothing but good stories about their youth growing up in the States. So far that wasn’t the reception they’d gotten.
They took a booth by a large window that looked out over the street. Their security detail had parked and were sitting in the car, keeping close watch. She tried to ignore them. Taking two of the plastic and sticky menus propped up beside the silver napkin dispenser, she handed one to Rica.
“This is our first true American meal,” Rica said as she gingerly used the tips of two fingers to open the menu flat on the table and perused the options.
“Did you forget who our mothers are? We grew up on American food.” From a quick glance at the selections, Janel felt a bit let down. She was not only familiar with everything on the menu, but thanks to her mother’s insistence that each of her children learn to cook, she also knew how to make most everything this place offered.
Janel’s mother had not only worked as a waitress before she met her father, she also ran her own bakery business out of her home. When she married and moved to the palace, Janel’s father had a kitchen built just like the one her mom had left back in America. They often had family meals around the old oak table in that little bit of her mom’s past.
“What are you going to get? I don’t want to have food envy,” Rica asked.
“I want a big, juicy cheeseburger and hot, crispy fries.” Janel’s mouth watered, imagining the taste.
“Perfect. That’s exactly what I want too.”
While they waited, Janel noticed the cranky man struggle to keep up between the back kitchen and the front. An older woman came in and a couple a few minutes later, and they all got the same insulting greeting. After another five minutes, the waiter finally got to them.
“What do you want?” he grunted and then snapped, “Make it fast. I don’t have all day.”
“We’ll both have the cheeseburger basket with water. You’re really busy today,” Janel commented, trying to make friendly conversation.
“Listen, lady, I don’t have time to chit chat. My two waitresses called in sick today. So you’ll get your food when I can get back to the kitchen to make it. If that don’t suit, you know where the door is.” With that cheery admission, he moved on to the next table.
Well, no wonder he was grouchy. “That poor man. He’s trying to do it all and failing miserably.”
“Do you remember that comedian ventriloquist Jeff something?” Rica asked as she studied the man.
Janel nodded, “I love Peanut. Thanks to your sister for illegally getting us access to watch. Our parents would never have let us watch that type of show.”
“That’s true. That man, the waiter, looks and acts just like the puppet Walter.”
