The waitress waved her hand. When she started talking again, the words poured out of her mouth like water. “Pffft. Their house ain’t hard to find. I’ll give you directions. And let me tell you, the one they live in now is a lot better than that last place they had. Odell and Betty Jean spent oodles of money decorating this one with nice ruffle-edged curtains, and furniture you’d expect to see in a white family’s house. Betty Jean had a big Thanksgiving celebration this year. Me and my husband and our two kids was there, along with our preacher and his wife. The only thing is, she had to have it the day after the holiday because Odell couldn’t be there until then. He’s a traveling salesman and spends most of his weekdays on the road. Anyway, he was back home bright and early Friday morning. Just like he’d promised Betty Jean he would be. Matter of fact, she told me he ain’t never let her down. Every time he tells her he is going to do something, he always come through. I love reliable men.”

“So do I,” I muttered.

“And that Friday after Thanksgiving, like every other Friday, he brung all kinds of nice things for Betty Jean and the kids. This time he even brung me some face powder and a corset. That company he works for let him take anything he wants. Every weekend when he gets back in town, his car is loaded down with boxes and boxes of clothes, food, smell-goods, and household items. His bosses must really be crazy about him.”

“I’m sure they are,” I hissed. I cringed and my head started throbbing when I tried to imagine how much money and merchandise Odell had stolen from my family over the years. No wonder that devil had left me so early the Friday morning after Thanksgiving. Just thinking about our “romantic” night the day before made me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t even wrap my brain around the things I’d heard about Odell so far. But his claiming to be a traveling salesman and entertaining his preacher and other folks took the cake. “In case I decide to visit Odell and Betty Jean today, is their house close enough I can walk to it from here?”

The waitress looked at the heels I had on. Then she squinted at the blouse and skirt I had spent so much time picking out for my special supper with Yvonne and Milton. “Yeah, you can walk it. It might be hard on your feet in them shoes, though. But it ain’t that far.” She squinted again. This time she focused on my tearstained face. “Ma’am, you all right? I can see that you been boo-hooing. There is even tearstains on the front of your pretty blouse. Did somebody jump you?”