The C word
Frank was a little annoyed that the blue-haired older lady was not happier about the state of her Buick. It had been nursed back to unquestionable health by Karl's loving ministrations."He called me a.. a-" she stammered.
"Now, ma'am, that's not true. He didn't mean you. You know he's a special boy. He says those things without thinking. I don't even think he knows he says things like that."
"Did you hear what he called me? I've never been so insulted in all my years. I can't even say it!" she wailed in her creaky vibrato. "You say it!" she demanded.
"Well now, ma'am I don't think-"
"Say it!"
"I don't think I should-"
"SAY IT!"
"Cunt"
"Augh!" she cried. "That's so dirty... so dirty" she said, and then started to shudder. Frank thought she was crying, but she didn't seem to be emitting any tears. She sounded like someone jumping on a very creaky floorboard. Could she be laughing?
"Yes ma'am." Frank agreed, trying out a half smile.
Now she sounded like most of a basketball team jumping on creaky floor boards. Her blue-haloed head was thrown back to expose a strand of baroque pearls guarding a wrinkled neck. Her little body heaved to and fro.
Frank tittered nervously with her.
If she were a young woman, Frank was positive she would absolutely have been roaring with laughter. She continuously slapped her little bony knee, jingling the golden charm bracelet she wore on her wrist. Her diamond earrings sparkled on her earlobes as they swung back and forth.
Eventually she creaked to a halt, shuddering like an engine with bad plugs. She wiped her eyes, smiling brightly and composing herself.
"Whew. That's the best laugh I've had in 20 years, my boy."
Frank smiled at her, unsure of what to say. She started writing in the checkbook in her hand, seized by an isolated shudder of laughter every few seconds, then tore out a check and handed it to him.
"Thank you ma'am," he said.
His phone rang. He knew who it probably was. He knew who he hoped it was.
"I'll let you get that," the lady said, slowly getting to her feet. Frank jumped up and assisted her.
"Thank you ma'am, Karl has your keys."
"See you next time" she said brightly, pushing her way out of the waiting room door and tottering into the shop.
Frank jumped back to his desk as the shop door ker-chunked shut, slapping the phone off the hook and immediately catching it in one swift move.
"Frank Foster," he said into it.
"Hi baby. You paged?"
"Yeah I was hoping I could see you later. The other night was incredible."
"Sure thing, I'm free at 9"
"Ok, great.. um," he said. Where were the words? "I'd like to maybe go have some dinner with you first, if that's okay with you."
"Sure, but you understand that you pay for my time, dinner or otherwise, right?"
"Well uh, yeah of course. Yeah." he stumbled.
"Ok then. You know where to pick me up."
"Yes I do... I'll see you at 9."
He hung up. What was he hoping for? Did he think she would be swept off her feet by the offer of a date? She'd probably been on a million dates with rich men in long black cars.
He sighed. He looked out the window of the waiting room and saw Karl waving good bye to the lady pulling out in her Buick. He looked down at his desk, at the check she had written. In the "For" line of hte check, she had scrawled with her rolling, looping handwriting. Frank squinted at it and picked the check up to look.
"Cunt" it said.
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