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Uncle Tyler swore to me that he had seen a bear come out of those woods, and he blamed the garbage cans being disturbed and subsequent messes on bears and raccoons, whom he would say jokingly "have no respect for other people's property." That was about as angry as he became over it.
In fact, I had yet to meet anyone with as calm and gentle a demeanor as my uncle Tyler. Aunt Zipporah told me his quiet manner and seemingly stoic acceptance of anything and everything was a result of his meditation and studies of Far Eastern religion and thought. He did have that soft,
understanding smile that encompassed his light blue eyes and trickled down his cheeks to his lips.
Although he was a gentle man with a slim build who stood a shade less than five feet eleven, he did possess an inner strength and boundless energy. "You don't battle the current," he once told me. "You swim along with it and wait for your opportunity to step aside or perhaps divert it into a more favorable direction." He summed up that philosophy with the law of physics that said any action in one direction creates an action in the opposite. "Never go head-on into fights and battles." he told me. "Slip and slide around them, Alice."
He was especially like that with me, I thought-- my life coach always coming up with some philosophical advice. He never tried to tell me what to do, however. He always suggested, and if I listened, fine. If not, he had that deep faith and self-confidence that comforted him in the belief that one of these days, I'd come around to his way of thinking, just as Aunt Zipporah often did.
I had come to realize that Aunt Zipporah was attracted to him for all these reasons. He wasn't the handsomest man in the world. His nose was a little too thin and long, and his ears were slightly more extended, but his inner peace was something she longed to have herself, especially after the dramatic tragedy of her time with my mother and the deep pain it had caused between her and my grandparents. Forgiveness didn't mean forgetting. In the end it meant accepting responsibility and guilt, but stains and scars were never completely out of sight and mind. They lingered under the soft places upon which her heart rested and beat. Tyler was someone who knew how to live with disappointments and defeats and yet maintain his strength. She fell in love with that part of him first, and the rest followed.
In almost the same way and for the same reasons, I was drawn to him and to the world they had created for themselves. There were no attics here, no hovering ghosts, no mean faces full of accusations. Maybe my grandfather was right. I was fleeing from things I could never escape, but at least for a while I could live in the illusion and maybe grow as strong as I had to grow in order to return and face the demons, as my grandfather had suggested.
Aunt Zipporah drove me to their house first to settle in. I did a little unpacking, getting my bathroom things laid out in the downstairs bathroom, and then the two of us set out for the cafe.
"We closed for a month during the semester break this year to break out the wall on the left side and expand the dining area, you know," she told me as we drove along the quiet, country road spotted here and there with modest houses, trim lawns and stone walls marking their property.
"I forgot you were going to do that."
"Well, we did, and we've added another ten tables, which meant we needed two additional waiters or waitresses during the busier season when the college kids return in force. Tyler occasionally pitched in as a waiter these past few weeks while you were recuperating just to be sure to save you the spot," she told me. "Yours truly became the chef from time to time."
Everyone was making sacrifices for me, I realized. When would I be able to reciprocate?
"That was really nice of him," I said. "I hope I can live up to his expectations, especially now." She knew what I meant.
"You don't have to run from table to table and to the kitchen, Alice. Your limp won't make a shade of difference, so don't beat yourself up about it. Besides, as Tyler is fond of saying, we are not a fastfood restaurant. Anyone who has those expectations should explore the quickest way out."
I laughed and then listened to her explanation of some of the new items on the menu. She then told me about the new band they had hired for the weekends during the last college year--The Medicine Men--and how popular it had become. Besides the traditional rock fare, they were good at playing Cajun music called Zydeco, "which is so unique to our area. And we've got the only live band who can do it. It's been quite a hit. We've booked them to start again in September when everything gears up."
The more she talked about the cafe, the more excited and hopeful I became about my new life here.
"I never asked you before, Aunt. Zipporah, but does anyone here yet know anything about the things that happened in Sandburg? I mean, with my mother?"
"Of course not. How would they? Why would they? It was so long ago. It's not exactly front-page news even back there. I certainly don't talk about any of it, and neither does Tyler, and neither," she said, making the point firmly, "will you."
I smiled. No, I thought. I didn't need any coaxing about it. Neither would I.
There was barely time for hellos and how are your when we reached the restaurant. It was already jammed with customers, nearly every table full. Two waitresses, whom I had never met, were scurrying around to take orders. There were three busboys, one of whom was assigned the role of expediter. He brought the finished platters to the tables. All five were currently students at the state college, taking summer session courses. Their work schedules were constructed around their classes. All needed the money.
Mrs. Mallen, a woman in her fifties who was a sort of all-around employee, sometimes cashier, sometimes counter-girl and sometimes waitress, was there as well. She had been with Tyler and my aunt Zipporah for as long as I could remember. She lived in town in an apartment building only a block or so away, so she was often trusted with opening and closing the cafe as well. Childless and widowed for a little more than five years, she had adopted Tyler and Aunt Zipporah as her immediate family--or they had adopted her. I was never quite sure.
With curly charcoal gray hair, light brown eyes, and a plump what I called Mrs. Santa Claus face, stout at five feet four, she presented a jolly, pleasant figure who loved to mother the college student customers, telling them they smoked or ate or drank too much, advising them to wear warmer clothing in the winter, criticizing their bootless feet or poor eating habits, but doing it all in so friendly and caring a manner that no one objected and some even followed her suggestions.
Although she and I always got along, I could feel her standing back a few extra feet, never sure how to approach me, how
close to get, how intimate or interfering. Perhaps my aunt had warned her away, I thought, or maybe I just gave off those airs. After all, I lived in a place in which no one but my grandparents could be trusted. The one comment I recalled Mrs. Mallen making about me was, "Sometimes she looks like someone who has lived in a war zone."
Little did she know how right she was.
Aunt Zipporah grabbed two aprons, tossing one at me. Mrs. Mallen was at the cash register, and Uncle Tyler was working feverishly in the kitchen with his two kitchen helpers, a pair of brothers from the Philippines, Tony and Marco Aruego. Tony was twenty-five and Marco was twenty-two, but both looked like teenagers to me. They, too, performed a multitude of tasks at the cafe: dishwashers, janitors, at times short-order cooks and occasionally busboys when needed.
I had always found an atmosphere of
comradery at the cafe. Uncle Tyler never treated anyone as lowly employees. The respect he gave them was mutual, and I couldn't imagine anyone who worked there doing anything to hurt the cafe or him, least of all stealing from him in any way.
"What?" I asked when I caught the apron.
"Grab a pad and help Missy Williams," she told me and nodded at the slimmer, more dainty looking of the two waitresses. She did seem a bit overwhelmed and confused, I thought.
