Whatever happened to...?
Out of nowhere this week, I wondered what happened to Bill, the dishwasher I worked with at Walgreens back in the 80s. He was tall and broad, quiet, walked like a duck, and was always sweaty, which could have been attributed to his field of work.
Dark-haired but not handsome.
My teenage brain places his age anywhere from his mid-20s to his early 30s.
He didn't smile much, but at the same time, he was never unkind.
As far as I knew, he had no vices, never taking a smoke break or going out to drink with the other dishwashers and cooks. This also paints him as being unsociable.
I think he was a neighbor of Rose, the head cashier on the drugstore side. I recall him living at home caring for an invalid parent, but I'm not sure about that. (Edited to add Rose was his aunt.)
I only ever saw him lose his temper once, as teenage boys are lazy and apt to quit their minimum-wage jobs once it interfered with their summer plans. This often meant he was the sole dishwasher in a busy restaurant where dinner specials were available for $3 a plate, salad and dinner roll included. I remember the dishes piling up and no one willing to run the line. He was called in, slamming tray after tray into the dishwasher, getting angrier and angrier as we waitresses attempted to help by bussing tables, and bringing him one bin after another of dirty dishes.
I'm not trying to be unkind, he was who he was.
After Walgreens shut down restaurant operations at the end of 1987, all the employees scattered, with the exception of the few of us who were hired on the drugstore side.
It would be easy to paint him as a sad figure, looking in from the outside at the teenage crew, but it is apparent I was the unkind one, so busy trying to navigate my nonsense that I neglected to befriend my coworker and learn more about him; my memory has as many holes as an old washrag nearly 40 years later. I don't even know who I could ask about him outside of Kevin, and our relationship has been reduced to exchanging birthday greetings on social media once a year.
I feel like I'm approaching this similar to the short story Betty, by Margaret Atwood. The narrator, as an adult, is attempting to remember details about her next-door neighbor at the summer cottage when she was a kid. Betty was the one who doled out love to her and her sister, sharing newspaper comics and cookies; yet the girls were in love with her sullen husband, who teased the girls and made rude comments to make them laugh. Betty later came back into the family's life years later when the husband left her for another woman. The narrator, engrossed in her own personal life, had little time for Betty until she died.
So I wonder now, 36 years later, what came of Bill, and like Betty’s narrator, try to imagine a satisfactory continuation of his story, success on his terms:
Innovator: maybe he developed biodegradable single-use picnicware so he never has to wash dishes again.
Entrepreneur: having worked in food service, maybe he now owns a line of food trucks where the food is the dish - ice cream cones, sundae waffle bowls, hot dogs, and pita wraps.
Social life: he was quiet, but I don't know if it was because he was shy or because we were a bunch of immature teenagers and he was clearly above the shenanigans. I recall him sitting in booths reading books. Maybe he found his people in book clubs and became an author of fantasy series novels.
Academic: maybe he found the time to go back to school. Again with the novels, majoring in writing or English, he found a passion in the written word and became a lion of a professor, a boisterous eccentric at a small, liberal arts college. He composes award-winning one-act plays about silly waitresses and brash young men smoking cigarettes behind a restaurant dreaming about something more.
Love life: you need to find your person, and I think for someone like him, he didn't need someone with a spark but with a glow. I see someone with chocolate brown eyes and dark hair, wearing red caftans, inviting him to share in a pot of tea. She doesn't expect him to dress up for dates, but he still shows up at her door in a button-down shirt and pressed pants. He's holding a bouquet of fragrant flowers because he's old-fashioned and he likes the delight on her face at this gift and her ritual of saying "Let's put these in some fresh water," pulling an antique pitcher out of her cabinet. Until one day he shows up without flowers and he still sees delight on her face.
Editing to add: I talked to Kevin, and got a last name. A simple search, I also found his obituary. Sigh. I like my ending better. Wait - a special friend?! I wish you love and peace Mary Jane, I bet you glowed.
No comments:
Post a Comment