Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, full of fictional characters doing fictional things I do not endorse or condone. It is intended for consumption only by adults who enjoy that sort of thing. It is also one of the most bleeding heart lefty things I’ve ever written, I think I hate it, and it contains basically no sex. Enjoy.
Tessa’s Crime
In a town as small as Whitimer, there is absolutely no changing anything “everybody knows”. There were a lot of things “everybody knows” in Whitimer. Like that Jenny Blake, who taught at the High School, was terrified of dogs, or that the newest, after only four years, family in town, the Ayeungs, were spies for the Chinese Communists. Mr. Ayeung’s fanciful tale about writing computer code from home for a company nobody ever heard of, that didn’t even have an office in Whitimer, fooled absolutely no one. He’d obviously moved to Whitimer to spy on the missile base down the highway only eighty miles, because the communists knew the Federal Government might reopen it any time. I mean, who moves TO Whitimer? People were BORN in Whitimer and then moved AWAY. Everybody knows that. So, the Chinese messed up, there.
Everybody knew Tessa wasn’t going to move ‘away’ after high school, and she hadn’t. “Away” was all one place in Whitimer.
“Where’d they move to, exactly?”
“Away, Dumb-Ass! Everybody knows that.”
Everybody knew Tessa’s daddy was a sorry drunk who’d run off to ‘away’ with Betty Carlisle who used to run the beauty parlor, before Dotti Johnson, who has it now, and that her mama, who’d always been trash, everybody knew that, had kept company with a lot of unsavory men, traveling men, while Tessa was growing up, before she’d finally fell off the Topsco trestle bridge and died, so everybody knew Tessa’d grow up to be just the same. What kind of a moron tries to walk across a railroad bridge, blind drunk, in the middle of the night? Where’d she even think she was going? Thank God the daughter had turned eighteen the week prior.
They were vindicated the summer of her 19th year, when, thanks to a loquacious clerk at the Piggly Wiggly, everybody knew Tessa’d purchased a pregnancy test before she’d had a chance to pee on the stupid thing.
The fact that the conception had occurred while she was unconscious was irrelevant. The fact that it was precisely her third occasion having intercourse, that she’d made her boyfriend wear a rubber the first two times, because she’d been awake, was irrelevant. She was a tramp, just like her mama, and everybody knew it.
Her boyfriend, Jimmy, confronted with prospective paternal obligations, had pointed out, not inaccurately, that lots of guys had been on her after she’d passed out at that bonfire, and it could be any of theirs, and anyway he was moving ‘away’ to seek employment in The City. What city? Doesn’t matter.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Tessa sprinted through the back door of Mel’s four minutes into her shift, grabbing her time card on the way by and jamming it into the timeclock as she skidded to a halt in front of it. Mr. Siebert was standing there with his clipboard and gave her a sour look, but didn’t bother to say anything. Mel’s was a chain, and corporate policy said everyone got five minutes grace on their start time. You weren’t late until you were six minutes late. That was the rule.
Tessa didn’t like Mr. Siebert. She knew a couple of the other waitresses had complained about him to corporate, and the complaints had come back as unfounded. As they should. He was always scrupulously correct in every word and action, could never be shown to touch anyone, say anything off-color, off-limits, unprofessional, or remotely humorous. He plays favorites? Prove it. Not by the paperwork, he doesn’t. When the girls who’d complained about him were eventually fired, his paper trail of recorded transgressions was meticulous, thorough, and undeniable. So, you don’t like the way your boss LOOKS at you. What am I supposed to do with that? You can’t fire a man for having, as one of the complaints actually read, “greasy eyes”. So, the way he looks at you makes you want to shower. Wearing chain mail. Can’t fire a guy for that.
Forcing her real feelings down, Tessa smiled brightly at him, and his lip twitched up in a tiny smirk, probably because he knew exactly what would make her smile at him.
“You’re on register.” He said.
Tessa flinched, but then just nodded. Theoretically, the wait staff tipped out the person stuck with cashier duties, but in reality, that was a pittance compared to what someone who hustled the way Tessa did could make in tips, waiting tables. Arguing that she’d had the duty only two days ago was pointless. His schedule, meticulously kept, would show he was scrupulously fair. The younger, prettier, girls drawing cashier duty more often was a figment of her imagination.
That dashed her last hope of not having to speak to him on her lunch break, though. She’d have preferred to have dental work without lidocaine, if she could have afforded to see a dentist. So, when Denise came up and told her to take her thirty minutes, and took over the register, Tessa summoned up her courage, banished her gag reflex, and marched to Mr. Siebert’s office.
Knocking on the open door, she stuck her head in the room, slightly. “Mr. Siebert, do you have a min-“
“Come in, Ms. Shaw. Have a seat.” Siebert said, robotically.
Tessa entered, sat in the worn chair across from his desk and said, “Becca is sick again.” Her four year old daughter, Becca, didn’t get sick often, Thank God, because she’d have had no way to handle it. When it did happen, though, it broke her. It was that simple. Tessa’s budget was razor thin. She’d quit smoking when she discovered she was knocked up, hadn’t had a drink since the bonfire, never ate out, didn’t own a car, hadn’t seen a movie in the theater since her last, disastrous, date, three years ago… there was nothing to cut. When Becca was visibly sick, even with a cold, the daycare Tessa paid for monthly wouldn’t take her. A lady down the street was willing to watch her for the day, for $40.
“I need to fill out for a pay advance, Mr. Siebert.” Tessa hated doing this. Far more than she would hate begging the other waitresses for one of them to let her pick up a shift to pay it back, she hated the delight Siebert seemed to take in magnanimously allowing her to fill out the form. She hated the way he seemed to gloat, the satisfaction in his eyes while saying nothing remotely improper. In his eyes, this time, though, there was something else. A kind of predatory glee, or sadistic glint.
“I’m very sorry, Ms. Shaw.” He told her, looking not at all sorry. “We’re not doing that, anymore. Not my decision, came down from corporate. Apparently “acting as a lending institution” has some rather restrictive…” Tessa lost the thread of the dialogue. Spaced out, doing the math. She could pay the neighbor lady today, out of the grocery money, but…. She envisioned the dominoes falling. “…help you with, Ms. Shaw?” Tessa came back to the moment and realized Siebert had finished speaking.
“No, I guess, I guess, um… thanks.” Walking out of the office, she felt like she was walking on pillows. Like she was floating. Her lunch break was nearly over and she hadn’t had a chance to eat anything. One of the big perks of the job was one meal a shift on the company, as long as it was menu items not exceeding ten dollars, but she’d missed hers.
It was two hours later, working the register, when a departing customer said “I don’t need change, I left a tip on the table.” And handed her the hand-written check and forty-two dollars in cash on his way out. Quicker than she knew she’d done it, Tessa had punched the “No sale” button on the register and shoved the money and ticket in the pocket of her apron. She couldn’t believe she’d done it. She hadn’t even DECIDED to do it. There hadn’t been any thought of doing it. She just did it and then thought, “What was that?” and her brain yawned and answered “Lady, I just work here.”
It was almost the end of her shift when Denise came and got her and said “Creepy wants to talk to you.” Which was what a few of the staff called Siebert when they were certain he couldn’t hear.
When she got back to Siebert’s office, he again invited her to sit. The look on his face was one she hadn’t seen before. It was a look of transcendent, perfect, joy. As she sat, he stepped over and closed the tiny door of the office. He’d never done that, with her, before. It happened rarely, and when it did, the employee nearly always came out unemployed.
“I’m afraid we have a rather serious problem, Ms. Shaw,” he said, swiveling his computer monitor around so Tessa could watch, from three different angles, herself pocket the money and the ticket. The ones she was uncomfortably aware of in her pocket in that moment. “Mel’s has a zero tolerance policy for embezzlement, Ms. Shaw.”
“Please, Mr. Siebert, it’s the only time I ever… I can’t lose this job, Sir, please, my daughter-“ Tessa babbled, tripping over her own tongue in the rush.
“Frankly, Ms. Shaw,” he cut her off, “your daughter is why I’m so surprised. You’ve always given me the impression of really caring about her. There’s no way I can keep you in the position, but that’s hardly your daughter’s biggest problem. Obviously, corporate will insist I contact law enforcement, and I’d assume they will in turn contact social services.”
Tessa stared at him in horror. “Please, please, don’t tell, please, I’ll quit, I’ll give it back, please!”
“Ms. Shaw, calm down. This is my job. I have bills to pay, too, you realize. You’re asking me to jeopardize my job for you. Why would I do that?” He was smirking at her as he said it, enjoying the confrontation.
Tessa shook her head, blinking back tears. She had no idea….
Oh. Yes… she did.
Siebert was sitting on the edge of his desk, smiling down at her, looking, if anything, hugely amused. Like he was silently laughing at her. She stood up and started undressing. Siebert took two steps toward the door, and locked it.
She knew it wouldn’t just be the one time. He’d have that video forever. And the one being recorded by the camera on the wall behind his desk. And the one after that. And she’d never, ever, complain.
Why should she? She was a tramp. Everybody knew that.
