A Place for Secrets: A Southern Gothic

Queenie's

    That night we all planned to gather at our favorite spot. It was the backdrop for all of our high school football games, every post pageant gossip session, and nearly every meal eaten out in our lives. Queenie’s diner was a place like no other, and by that, I mean like all the rest. The food was mediocre, the service was fine depending on the day, but the part that never changed was Queenie herself. Her name was really Karen, but Queenie is just “so much more regal.” She, of course was a beauty queen back in the day and was a nurse before that. She worked with my mother for many years. We were all family when we were in her deli. There was no problem her French fries and bacon grilled cheese couldn’t fix.

    Queenie’s was bee themed. What can I say? Middleborough is not creative. The floors were black and white checkerboard and all the servers wore black and yellow. As soon as we arrived and the small bell at the door rang Queenie ran to meet us all.

    “Oh, my favorite customers! I do declare it has been twice an age since I saw you.” It was last week, but hey, let’s give her the win. Her black and grey hair was tossed up in a bun with a pen through it like she was a veteran waitress. In fact, she had never been a server for a day in her life. She was a business owner all around town, but never did she interfere with her employee’s work. “They have a job for a reason. I am simply a facilitator,” was her mantra.

    She settled into her favorite booth beckoning us to follow her lead. “You know I will have to come pester you after a while, so I put you in the best spot. No prying eyes.” She gave Fletch and I a wink and spin and left us in the back corner. We were still waiting on Morgan and her flavor of the week to show up.

    Fletcher draped his arm around me. I was so desperately comfortable wrapped in him that I couldn’t bear to remove my scarf, even though I was getting warmer by the moment. He didn’t seem to notice and thumbed through the menu even though his order was always the same. It was a “worker bee” sub which essentially amounted to every deli meat in the world smothered with cheese. Not that my order was much more sophisticated. Queenie’s was a childhood constant and therefore my palate immediately reverted to a ten-year-old craving for chicken tenders and fries.

    I leaned my head on Fletch’s shoulder and inhaled his perfect scent. Why couldn’t I have called him to stay last night? He would have been there in a moment and I would have been covered in comfort and his smell without the guilt or reservation that I had in my heart.

    “Jesus Christ, Graye.” Morgan and some guy bounded towards the table with exhausting zeal. “Did you get far enough back? This must have been Fletcher’s work. We all know he can’t be bothered to socialize with polite society.”

    “Great to see you too, Morgan.” Fletcher let his sarcasm roll out of his mouth like cold honey over toast. I am not sure that he even looked up from studying the menu.

    “This is all Queenie’s doing. She seemed anxious to talk to us about something.” I explained.

    “Jesus, Karen. What will she get us involved in now? I am running out of excuses with that woman. Morgan plopped down while her date remained standing. This made Morgan roll her eyes with apparent disdain and motion for him to join her.

    “Morgan, are you going to introduce us?” I sensed his anxiety. I felt compelled to help him out.

    Exasperatedly, she obliged.

    “Graye, Fletcher, this is Judson.” Well, that was underwhelming.

    “Timothy Judson, but I typically go by Jud.” He shyly took a menu and smiled.

    “It is so very nice to meet you.” I was suddenly cut off by Morgan’s flailing hands.

    “Listen, we need to talk about what is going down.” Clearly, there was an agenda for our meal and the meeting was in session. “Jen is coming back into town for a few weeks. She is trying to sell her parent’s house and settle the estate. I have heard that there are two very interested buyers, but I think I am going to make a move. What do you think?” She paused before begrudgingly adding, “Fletch, I wouldn’t mind your opinion as well.”

    “Hell has frozen over.” His gaze was as unbroken as his deadpanned tone.

    “Don’t make me regret asking.”

    “M, I would honestly have to go look at the house. As far as I know it should be in good enough condition. I know that the Broderick’s were pretty meticulous about the stuff they put in the house and were always very responsible with the upkeep. You know I am happy to talk with Jen and go over with you if you want.” I tried to be honest. There was no way to know what the house was doing after two years without occupants.

    “Agreed. I am happy to do the inspection for you.” Fletcher chimed. He was a man of few words. I needed that after my father died.  I didn’t want to hear about “god’s plan” or  “everything happens for a reason” I wanted to cry and throw things and rail against the world. Fletcher allowed me to do that, and never said anything. Drumm didn’t even text when the news went public.

    I heard the bell at the entrance of the diner ring and looked up. In the frame of the door was Beau. I watched him walk over to a table where his mother was sitting. He caught my gaze and held it. His parents were very active in Middleborough. His father was a judge and his mother ran a small charity. They lived in a white house surrounded by magnolia trees. Privilege oozed from him and a small part of me craved to wash in it.

    Queenie broke my thoughts when she brought Fletch and me our food.

    “Thank God, Queenie. You know I hate making a food decision.” Fletcher radiated his signature sunny smile and took the food from her.

    “Anything for my favorite farmer!” She crooned. “Morgan darling, can I get you and your friend something?”

    Jud finally spoke up. “I’ll have what he is having. I have never seen a sub piled so high!” His toothy grin could not be ignored and for a moment I saw Morgan take very smug notice of it.

    “You know me, Q. I just want your house salad.” Morgan continued to look at Jud like he was on the menu.

    “Before I put this in, you have to know that I am nominating you both to be on the Young Professional’s Board for the county.”

    “Jesus, Karen, WHY?” Obviously, Morgan was displeased. Queenie, as always, took Morgan’s complaining in stride.

    “Because you ladies are the future of this town and you need to start acting like it.”

    “Queenie, I am happy to read over the requirements, but I am not sure I am up to the task. It sounds like it needs a lot of attention, and you know my kids come first.”

    “Graye, you are positively perfect. I know you put your classroom before yourself. I think you will like it and you will get to put that management degree to good use.” Queenie preened with pride. With no children of her own, she was very attached to some of the young folks in town.

    “I put it to good use every day while I am teaching!” Most people did not know that I had managed a triple degree. I graduated with a bachelor’s in Marketing, Management, and Education. It only took me an extra semester, and at that point I was still not sure what I was going to do, or if Drummond was going to propose.

    I was willing to move back to California or follow him to the ends of the earth. He was a grassroots visionary. If you needed to grow a movement, enlarge your revenues, or bring your business to the next tier, he was the one you called. Unfortunately, those types of people did not stay at one company long and were modern nomads. I had always wanted a steady life, but Drumm seemed like he wanted to sweep me up and whirl me like a dervish wherever he went. He would show me off in every situation, and I had no inclination that he didn’t adore me as much as he pretended.

    “Graye, you are so full of energy. Don’t waste it.” She sighed and left us to discuss. Morgan straightened as if to shake off the last conversation.

    “I am going to have to stop patronizing this place if she keeps corralling me into this stuff.”  We laughed and continued the evening talking about nothing and everything not knowing that Middleborough was on the precipice of change and this was one of our last moments of nostalgic warmth. I wish I would’ve sat there all night.