AllFreeNovel
Share Us
That took her breath away, and she blinked as her emotions were rocked to her core.Was I meant to help her?
“What you having, ladies?” the waitress asked, dressed in all black with a name tag reading Maxie.
Desdemona checked her own feelings and tuned in to how tired the waitress seemed. “How are you doing tonight, Maxie?” she asked with a friendly smile, making sure to look her in the eye.
The waitress was taken aback. “Wore out, but the grind don’t stop when the bills and my five kids won’t either,” she said with a weary smile as she tapped her pen against the order pad.
“More power to you, sis,” Desdemona said, before turning her attention to her menu. “I’ll have corned beef hash, bacon, and eggs scrambled with American cheese. White toast with extra butter.”
“Okay, got you,” Maxie said as she scribbled before looking to Portia.
But the girl’s eyes were on Desdemona.
She’s trying to figure me out. Ditto, kid. Ditto.
“Are you ordering?” Maxie asked her.
“Breakfast for dinner?” she asked.
“I love breakfast at a diner. Best thing ever,” Desdemona said with a warm smile.
“I’ll have the same thing,” she said, her voice a little more proper.
Is she mimicking me? Is that how I sound?
“And your drink?” the waitress asked.
“What wouldyoulike, Portia?” Desdemona asked.
“Lemonade,” she said, sounding unsure.
“I’ll have the same thing,” Desdemona said, taking her menu and handing both to Maxie.
“Be right back, ladies.”
Desdemona settled back against the cracked leather of the booth. “What’s your story, Portia?” she asked.
She shrugged one shoulder before removing her puffer coat. “Stuff I wish I could forget,” she said.
“Like?” she pressed.
“Why?” Portia countered, her voice soft.
She sounds and acts younger than her years.
“Because I can’t help you on your journey unless I know where you’ve been,” Desdemona said. “What have I gotten myself into?”
“You? Me too?”
“Right,” she agreed.
They fell silent as Maxie set their drinks on the table along with straws and retreated.
Portia removed the paper from her straw and dropped it in her drink. “Junkie mom. Deadbeat dad. Molestation. Rape. Physical abuse. Rebel. Runaway. Kidnapped. Pimped,” she said, her voice monotone as if she separated her emotions from the memories.
“Beaten,” Desdemona added.
Portia nodded and looked at her drink as she stirred her straw in circles. She looked distant. Her thoughts were elsewhere.
