My Blue River (11 page)

9. Oysters

“You want me to work where?” I asked incredulously.

“Mr. Smith said he has an available cashier position at the supermarket. I put in a good word and told him you’d be in to apply, now go do it,” insisted Mom, shooing me away as if I were an annoying fly.

“So let me get this straight. Without even so much as the slightest consultation with me, you said I would apply for a job I don’t want and in fact, would be embarrassed to have? You told Mr. Smith I want to work at his stupid, little supermarket?” I paced back and forth carving tracks of anger in the old, wooden floor.

“First of all, it is not a
stupid, little supermarket
,” she finger quoted.
Ugh. I hate it when she finger quotes!
“Brody’s Supermarket does quite well in a town of this size. Secondly, it is a great opportunity for you,” she retorted.

I continued to pace while my tongue and lips tried to form words that would construct a plausible argument. Anger rose higher and higher until I yelled, “You have GOT to be kidding me! I don’t want to work at Brody’s Supermarket!”

“Well, that’s too dang bad because that is your best option. Addy, your dad and I have offered you a pretty good deal. We’ll get you a car—you get a job. You may have a college fund but you’ll want spending money of your own and we won’t provide everything. You have had a pretty pampered life. I can’t let you go out into the world without learning responsibility and work ethic.”

Crap
. She had me on one point. I would want money of my own.
This totally sucks
. She was also right about Brody’s because it was the best place in town to work. I certainly wouldn’t want to be a waitress at either of the two greasy cafés in town. I hated that of all the people in the world to be right, it was my mother. I liked the idea of having money that was my own to spend as I wished, but hated the idea of actually earning it. They weren’t even making me buy my own car. I just had to fuel it. Life was good and easy for me. If I were to be honest, it didn’t make sense to not apply for this job.

I groaned in resignation. “Fine. I’ll go apply. But you never know, I may not get the job. Mr. Smith may not like me.”

********

I was wrong. Mr. Smith liked me and one week later I donned the signature, less than attractive red smock of Brody’s Supermarket, with a large italic B embroidered on my back. I even wore a name tag. Mr. Smith liked my formal name so when my badge arrived, I found it to be printed with the name –
Adelaide
.

“Really, Mr. Smith, you can call me Addy,” I insisted.

“And you can call me Brody. Adelaide is such a beautiful name. Wear it proudly,” He threw his arms in the air, beaming as if he’d just announced the arrival of a new baby girl.

I had a full day’s worth of training that should have taken two hours. Mr. Smith wanted quality employees.
“We must know each task perfectly,”
he would say. It was his professional motto.

I mastered my new job within a day and by the end of August, I was still surviving my work schedule, yet it made me look forward to my upcoming school year. Until school started, the cash registers would be my new best friends. Mr. Smith told me I was a “keeper.” He raved about what a fantastic employee I was and how he was hopeful I wanted full-time employment after high school graduation. I wanted to laugh out loud, but refrained.

There’s not one chance I’ll ever work at this store after graduation.

Clearly, he hadn’t gotten the memo on my imminent departure. I was only here for the Aaron Davis Rescue Mission and once that diploma was in my hand, I was gone. Blue River would be part of my painful childhood history that I would one day discuss in therapy.

Zeek also worked at Brody’s. He worked in the meat department, stocked shelves, and bagged groceries when, for some unfathomable reason, someone made a large purchase. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would buy more than milk and bread from Brody’s. It was way overpriced.
I guess that’s just small town life
.

I had actually become quite fond of Zeek. He was so lovable and his baby face was always smiling. He was hoping for a football scholarship. He was a fun guy and he made working at Brody’s bearable. He was truly a person I would remember my entire life.

It was a slow day at the supermarket. I was inspecting my fingernails, which desperately needed a manicure, when I heard that familiar voice.

“Hey, when you’re done playing with your fingernails, can you ring me up?” asked Jack. I looked up to find him grinning from ear-to-ear, pleased with his sarcastic comment, holding nothing but a Coke.

“Hmmm…I don’t know. I do have the right to refuse service,” I replied as I flashed a sweet but sarcastic smile. I resumed pretending to inspect my fingernails.

“Oh, you wouldn’t refuse
me
would you?” He was now trying to charm me and it tickled my heart, but I would play hard to get. “So what’s up?” he asked.

“What’s it look like? I’m forging a brilliant career at Brody’s.”

“Yeah, I see that. I’m impressed. By the way, that smock really sets off your eyes.”

“Okay,” I held out my hand, palm side up. “Hand me your man card. No guy says,
sets off your eyes,
unless they’re gay…and you’re not gay are you, Jack?” I taunted.

“Well, I don’t know. I could be confused. Do you want to kiss me and help me find out?” He leaned in toward me.

I felt my face flush cherry red as I got a visual of his lips on mine.
It was like he could read my mind and he became all smiles again. It was almost a certainty he could tell I was imagining how great a kiss from him would be.

He leaned in further and whispered, “Kind of looks like I’m tempting you, Miss Addy. In fact, I think you’d like me to kiss you right now.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, but I wouldn’t let him get the best of me. I was struck with a clever idea. I needed out of this conversation and fast. I leaned in closer to him and his eyes slowly opened wide in surprise. Suddenly I cut to my intercom and said, “I need a price check on tampons, register four, please? That’s TAMPONS for
Jack Cooper
, register four. Thank you.”

His smile didn’t fade. He just shook his head and blushed profusely. “You suck,” he teased, shaking a finger at me.

“I know,” I said with a voice filled with pride. I had definitely gotten the best of Jack this time.

Jack leaned back then said, “Guess you want me to leave now?”

I giggled, “Ya think?”

“Fine. I’ll go.” He chuckled. “See you at the oyster festival on Saturday?”

Jack had been talking for weeks about some annual August oyster festival and was just dying for me to go. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten. He knew I loved oysters and carried on about Montana oysters being the best in the world. I assumed they were flown in from one of the coasts and I found it amazing a small town like Blue River would have oysters flown in for some type of small town, low budget event.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. So is it really an oyster festival?” I asked.

“Yes. Definitely. It is an oyster festival. I wouldn’t lie to you,” said Jack.

“Wow. I still can’t believe this town cares about oysters. It seems like you guys would have a cow or pig festival or something like that. But sure, I’ll go. Can’t wait.”

“Great. I can’t wait either.” The smile that played at the corner of his eyes made me think he was up to something, but I couldn’t tell exactly what.

“Okay, then, I’ll see you there,” I said.

Right about that time I heard Zeek yell, “Hey, Addy, catch!”

Instinctively I put my hand up, making the catch.

“There’s those CONDOMS you asked for!” Zeek yelled.

I felt old Mrs. Baker’s eyes boring a hole in the back of my head. I hated working next to her. She was so judgmental. She already had her preconceived idea about me being a “big city girl” so this prank simply added to it. I blushed and turned back to look at Jack who had clearly made this plan because he was laughing so hard that he was bent over holding his stomach.

“You’re an ass,” I said.

“I know,” he replied as he winked at me. He was ridiculously pleased with his prank.

He turned and left, laughing all the way to his Jeep. Once again, I admired the backside of his Wranglers.

********

The Davises and Coopers arrived at the dirt parking lot simultaneously. The town’s largest side street was roped off for the oyster festival. Tiny, white lights were hung everywhere—over the street, in the trees, around light poles. Red and white checkered table cloths covered the tables. Bales of hay served as seating. I had never seen so many cowboy hats, cowboy boots, and buckles in one place in my entire life. There was a lot of western flair to this event.
I am definitely not in San Diego anymore
.

The smell of food drifted through the air with the soft summer breeze. People were already milling around. I heard a lot of laughing and some singing. A live band was already playing on a very small stage. People were dancing in the streets, some people sat mingling while others were loud and obnoxious, having already been to the beer barn, which was really a tent instead of a barn but why quibble over semantics because either way, a special hand stamp was required to visit that place.

“Hey, Ted,” said Dad. “Great to see you! I’ve been meaning to call and thank you for sharing so much of your son’s time.”

“Oh, no, you’re paying him. If he’s earn’ his keep then I can spare him,” Ted replied.

My dad felt guilty. Jack was not only Ted’s only son, but only child. He knew Jack had to be essential in helping with the family farm in the summertime, but Ted had insisted over and over again that it was fine. Jack needed a job of his own, but my dad still had a hard time keeping Jack to himself.

“Well, he’s a fine young man. I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s been a tremendous help. I can’t believe how much he knows about virtually everything and at such a young age.” My dad was truly impressed. I think he wanted to adopt Jack. I sensed that Dad wished Aaron was more like Jack, and honestly, that thought made me feel sad for Aaron. If he knew the level of Dad’s disappointment, it would break his heart.

The two men wandered off together and continued to discuss how wonderful Jack was. I wanted to find it nauseating but I couldn’t help but know what my dad said about Jack was true. I was also impressed with Jack and deep down, I wanted him to be impressed with me, too, but we’d already gotten an awkward start to our relationship. I assumed he thought I was a sarcastic, snotty, Southern California girl with absolutely nothing in common with a cowboy like him. I couldn’t help it. Each day I found myself desperately wanting his attention.

After we all made small talk, Jack was quickly at my side as we delivered our moms’ salads to the appropriate tables. Almost everyone from the valley was contributing in some way, but the oysters had come from, in Jack’s words, “somewhere special.” I still didn’t understand the oysters.

“So you want to dance first or eat first?” asked Jack.

I could hear the sound of a fiddle. I looked over at the stage and saw a banner above the band that read: Kissin’ Kuzzins.

“Gross!” I pretended to gag.

“Dancing with me would be gross?”

“No! I’m just saying the name of the band—Kissin’ Kuzzins—that’s gross.”

He laughed out loud and explained, “It’s a joke. It’s a play on words. They are a married couple and their last name is Cousin—which for the band they spell “Kuzzins.” All the other band members are also married and are cousins to the lead singers.”