“Awe hell,” I say under my breath. To the Principal, I say, “No, sir. I think that is pretty self-explanatory and all,” I look at the ground.
“Hey, we like honesty around here,” he chuckles. “And glad to see any woman who won’t take any shit. You’ll need it around here.”
“What do you mean by that?” I tilt my head to the side in question.
“Just that some of the football players in these parts can be pretty rough and tumble. They hurt themselves and they’ll need someone who can be firm with them,” I nod. It makes sense. Kids that driven, that cocky can be a real pain in the ass when they’re in pain. “But also show them that they still matter, even if they can’t play anymore,” he says softly. I just nod.
“Makes sense,” I reply.
“Now, we called on your references,” I cringe. Joseph was my boss and my lover until last night. That’s probably not going to be great. “A Dr. Alexander told us you were the ‘worst nurse in the history of nurses and that we should hire, literally anyone but you.’ I took this to mean he is the ‘limp dicked little weasel’ in question,” I sigh and just nod my head.
“In the name of full disclosure, Dr. Alexander and I were involved until recently,” I say. Aunt Mable just snickers. The old bat.
“I’ll say,” she laughs. I growl and give her the side eye trying to impress upon her that we should maintain some decorum.
“We took exception to this, especially considering the head nurse at the hospital said you were the best she’s seen since herself and that you had saved countless kids, including mine. And also, that Dr. Alexander is a douche canoe,” the Principal’s eyes glitter with amusement. I just sigh. Again.
“Jesus,” I say, swiping a hand over my face. Never catching the meaning of his words. I’m so screwed. Time to kiss this job goodbye. I can’t believe I flew all the way down here, hungover to boot, just to be told I’m a total failure.
“That’s my girl,” Mable cheers.
“I think we can all agree, that you would be a great asset to the Tall Pines Independent School District,” Principal Reynolds tells me with a kind smile. Umm, say what?
“What?” I ask, shocked.
“You’re hired, Angellica,” he says, smiling warmly at me.
“Angie,” I tell him, absent mindedly.
“You’re hired, Angie.”
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I said a quick thanks, signed every single contract, non-disclosure, and magazine order form they put in front of me before grabbing Aunt Mable the way she grabbed me when we entered the office and beat feet out of there.
“Huh...” We both said, shaking our heads.
It wasn’t until we were standing in the parking lot of the high school, that we both realized our luggage was in Sam’s Suburban and we had no car. Aunt Mable, never one to ask a man for help, muttered a quick, “Fuck it,” before she started marching down the sidewalk. Like the smart girl I am, I followed.
Two blocks later, we were seated in the most amazing diner ever. If I ate every meal here for the rest of my life, one, that life would be short due to clogged arteries and high cholesterol, two, I would weigh four hundred pounds, and three, I would die happy. Mable ordered a hot roast beef sandwich with au jus, steak fries, and a large malt. Her metabolism should be studied by scientists. I ordered the hot opened face turkey sandwich that consisted of sourdough bread, stuffing, which the waitress informed me in the south is dressing if it isn’t actually stuffed in something, thick slices of roast turkey, gravy, and the cranberry sauce on top of the pile, steak fries and a coke. It’s like thanksgiving in my mouth.
I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. Mable and I are both quiet while we eat. The women in our family are pretty serious about food. Our bodies need it to be successful in life, but we also enjoy it and don’t have any shame in that. When the check was delivered by an adorable brunette named Katy, Mable snatched it up and paid leaving sweet Katy a healthy tip. We grabbed our purses and made our way out the door into the warm Texas sunshine.
“That was quite a tip you left her,” I comment off handedly.
“That’s Marsha’s girl, Kathryn. Her fiancée was killed in Iraq when she was only eighteen. Hasn’t dated since. Lives her life like a lonely old widow, the poor thing.” I immediately regret my thoughts about her tip and vow to do the same every time I eat there too. My Aunt Mable may be a pistol, but her heart is huge too.
We are walking aimlessly around the main part of town when we pass an adorable blue craftsman home with a large, beautifully tended yard, and a white picket fence. You could also see a gorgeous all glass solarium on the side that would make the best studio for a famous artist. The truly exciting part was when we noticed the big for sale sign in the front yard. Aunt Mable whipped her cellphone out of her purse and unlocked it, typing like mad, I’m watching her in a trance until her next words, not directed to me, pull me out.
“I’ll take it,” she says firmly. “My accountant will have the funds wired to you shortly. Thank you,” before she signs off. Followed by her typing more things in a crazy fashion. Must be nice to be an eccentric artist.
“Harold…Yes, it’s Mable….I just bought a house in Texas… Send money to this address,” she rattled off the account. “Yes, now…I’m picking up the keys in an hour…You too…bye Harold.” Damn, she works quick. Must be good to be a famous artist.
Mable makes a quick about face and starts heading back towards the diner. Just past it sits a local furniture store. Mable marches in like a force to be reckoned with.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” A young woman asks.
“Oh, we’re just loo…” but I get cut off by General Mable.
“Yes, I want this sofa, that dining set, that bedroom set, this one over here too, that kitchen table, the china hutch that matches, these end tables, and this sofa over here,” she finishes triumphantly. The saleswoman and I are both a little shell shocked.
