Tight lips and Pockets
Every time I see them they are arguing about money, which makes me wonder why they bother going out at all. I have been their waitress at three different restaurants now and not once have they given me any sign of recognition. I try and relax the tension, one meal at a time, as any good waitress should, but they never let up. Once they even turned on me together, it was the chefs fault but at least they were united. I see them on my days off sometimes, just around town. Her walking ahead, him pushing his wheel chair. I guess they don’t live too far. One day I saw them coming back from the beach, with six kids in toe. Three with mocha skin like hers, and three with freckles and long faces like his. They skipped along the side walk in pairs, matching in ages, laughing and screaming about ice cream. The couple charged on behind unsmiling, hands clenched, laden with shoes and wet towels.