Quilts, Tacos & Tattoos

The Bluebonnet Cafe

"Mom, settle down. Do we have to boycott the bank because you are mad at him over him wanting to eat pancakes with his kids instead of talking to you?"

We have had to boycott or not talk to many businesses or people because of Mom's temper and her need to get people back. We could not use UPS for almost two years because of a missed delivery of some fabric and the way a delivery guy dropped the box off. She said he was rude and disrespectful.

At McDonalds, she got in a fight with a little old man who she claimed cut in line at the drive through. She jumped out of her car and told him how rude he was to butt in front of her, that she had a kid to feed who was starving. I was not starving and I was 12 years old.

I hate it, but I have gotten used to that side of her. I just try to be invisible or smile at the poor soul who got on her wrong side. I tried to find the balance between telling her she was being a little unreasonable and not getting on her wrong side any more than I already was.

We sat in silence until our food arrived. We ate and then left with hardly a few words between us, which confirmed to me that her plan was to see Rick all along and had nothing to do with spending time with me. She was on a mission, and I was just an excuse to justify it.

We got into the car, and she said the words I dread on Sunday morning, "I am just going to run by the store."

We do not ever "just run by the store."

We go and spend our entire day there. I knew I had no choice, so I just said okay and hoped that it would indeed be a quick trip.

When we arrived, she got out and she looked back at me and said, "I will be right back." I opened my door. "Why are you getting out? I will be right back."

I had been left in the car at the PX, Sears, the pharmacy, etc. for "just a quick trip inside" all of my life. "I know the drill, and I will just go ahead and get out rather than sit in the car and come in when I am hot and sweaty."

I went straight to the cutting board to put away extra bolts that had gathered there from the day before. Mom went to the office. I kept moving from one project to the next. It was nice to be working again without a long list from Mom. I knew what needed to be done, so I just kept moving from project to project. At one o'clock, Mom came out from her office and stretched.

"Will you go next door and get us some lunch?"

Without even thinking about it, I reached out my hand toward her, "What do you want today?"

She handed me a twenty. She knew not to give me anything less. I do not like to be sent on an errand without enough money. I think she used to do it to me on purpose, hoping that the store clerk would see a sad little girl trying to buy milk, orange juice, cereal or whatever with not enough money, and just say, "Don't worry, Sweetie. You can go ahead." Instead, I was often told, after what felt like forever of me praying, Please let me have enough. Please let me have enough, "You don't have enough." Then I would have to go to the car to ask for more money from the woman who had previously assured me that I had plenty.

I went next door to Local Taco and ordered beef nachos and my favorite guacamole from Marianna. She was always so kind to me and asked, "How's your mother? She works too hard, you know."

"Yes, I know."

"She works you too hard, too."

I was sitting on the torn, blue vinyl bench by the door waiting for the order and reading the signs on the wall, when the door chimed. I gasped. My eyes locked on Bud, the racecar driver. He was smiling broadly and talking in Spanish with a southern drawl to the waitresses. My eyes followed him to his table. Right before he slid into his booth he looked at me, smiled and winked. I blushed, then I heard him say, "I'm going there after I eat, but I have to have one of Mario's famous Margaritas first. It always takes the edge off."

"Here you go," Marianna said, handing me the order. "That's $12.43."

"Thanks Marianna." I gave her the twenty-dollar bill and hurried out the door, forgetting the change. I went straight to Mom's office.

"Change," she said with her hand out and without even looking up from her desk.

"No change."

"There better be. Our lunch was not twenty dollars. We did not even get drinks. Did you order extra tortillas and butter?"

"Yes," I said as I unpacked the food.

"Where are the tortillas and butter then? You better go back."

"Oh that's all right. I am not that hungry anyway."

"Go back and either get the change or get your tortillas."

"No. I don't want to."

She turned her chair, pulled off her reading glasses and looked at me. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Then go back and get the change."

"Bud, the racecar driver came in," I blurted.

"What?"

"You go get the change. Then you can see him again."

"What was he wearing?"

"I didn't notice."

"Go back in there. Besides, I can't go in there. Look at what I am wearing."

We heard a knock on the door and we both froze.

"Who knows we are here?"

"Just Marianna."

"Go check," Mom said.

"No. You're the parent."

"It's not a burglar."

"I'm not going."

"You are such a baby," she said as she got up to see who it was.

I heard Mariana's voice, "Miss Candy, it's me, Mariana."

"Hola, Marianna. How are you?"

"Fine, Miss Candy. Here is your change. I know how much you usually tip, but not this much..."

"Thank you, Marianna. I think Cricket was feeling shy because of Mr. Bud. You and Mario always look out for us."

"You're welcome. I will tell Mr. Bud you said hello, Miss Candy", she said with a big grin.