Page 19 of Life After Levi

“I’m sorry, were you talking to us?” I pointedly ask. “Because from what I know, your opinions and comments are unnecessary and even more important, unwanted.”

“Well, I never!” Betty exclaims just as Dale and Miriam walk up to her.

“Still talking shit all these years later, Betty?” Miriam asks, leering at the woman. If looks could kill, old bitty Betty would be six feet under. “My granddaughter and great-granddaughter are no part of your life, remember?Youchose that path.”

“Emerie sure didn’t grieve all that long, did she?” Betty counters, a nasty look on her face. Her accusation is unwarranted, and my body begins to shake in anger at her implication. Up until a few days ago, I’d never met Em except through pictures and what Levi shared with me.

Right now, I wish my mother were here because she’d beat the hell out of this opinionated hag. Instead, I pull Emerie into my side, and we watch as Miriam decimates her in just a few words.

“Tell me, Betty, how’s Jonas doing? Heard he’s in rehab so he doesn’t have to go to jail,” Miriam sweetly questions. Gotta love some southern smackdown because the woman takes a step back in shock.

Damn, she’s good. It’s like she’s channeling each of the characters in the Golden Girls in one fell swoop.

“And Deirdre? She’s got what now, three kids with three baby daddies?”

“She’s on a roll now,” Emerie whispers to me. Dale just stands there, his legs spread, and his arms intersected across his chest, but I instinctively know he’ll jump into the fray if he needs to.

Betty’s mouth keeps opening and closing, flapping like a fish out of water, but she doesn’t say anything as Miriam continues. “It’s not so much fun having your dirty laundry aired in public, is it? As for Emerie, I suspect she’ll always grieve that her and Levi’s daughter will never truly know him. All she’s got are videos, shared stories, and pictures. Plus, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re in the twenty-first century these days, so Emerie isn’t required to wear sackcloth and ash for the rest of her days. She’s allowed to be happy, and both Dale and I are hoping that happens soon, because Levinia needs little brothers and sisters.”

Emerie’s wide eyes gaze at me as I shrug. I mean, it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard. The thought of building a life where babies who have curly hair grow up surrounded by love and family is actually appealing.

“Keep our granddaughter’s name out of your filthy mouth, Betty,” Dale suddenly states. “Until your own side of the street is spotless from its trash, you have no call to judge another. That’s in that book you’re real proud of when you walk into church each week. Not sure how the pastor would feel about one of his deacon’s wives disparaging another member of his congregation.” He then turns to me and asks, “You kids wanna go get something to eat while we’re in town? Cora brought her granddaughter over, so Vinnie’s with them playing.”

“Cora’s their cleaning lady,” Emerie tells me. “She comes once every few weeks and usually brings Emily, her granddaughter with her. She’s the same age as Levinia, so they create more of a mess than anything, but neither Cora nor Miriam care.”

Miriam shakes her head, already pushing Betty out of her mind as she adds, “More like the two little ones are giving Cora fits because they love to help her. But we’ve got time to eat before she expects us back.”

“Then let’s go eat. I’ll go pay for this first, of course,” I state.

* * *

“Miriam, your fried chicken is better,”I mutter as I grab another piece from the giant plate that’s in the middle of our table. It’s a family style restaurant so all of the individual dishes are set in the middle of the table for you to serve yourself.

“It’s the buttermilk I add to the marinade,” Miriam admits. “I’ve told Thelma for years to soak her chicken in buttermilk before she fries it up. Makes it tender and juicy.”

“She never listened back in high school either,” Dale adds. “We all tried to tell her that Mike Ashby was nothing but a player.”

“Shush now, Dale, that’s ancient history,” Miriam chides her husband, lightly smacking him on the shoulder. “Thanks to family and friends, she was able to get out of that horrible situation, then buy this diner when it was failing. She’s successfully turned it around to where it’s the place to come for a good meal at a reasonable price.” She’s not wrong. Where else can you go and feed four grown adults for under thirty dollars? Nowhere that I’ve been, that’s for damn sure.

“Everything I’ve tried so far since coming to town has been delicious,” I admit. “And honestly, if I hadn’t had your fried chicken, I’d be completely satisfied with her recipe.”

“Do you think she has her banana pudding on the dessert menu today?” Emerie asks, tilting her head to the side as she scans the table for the dessert menu. At my questioning look she explains. “She changes her desserts every day. The only one that’s always on there is her Coca-Cola cake.”

“Does it have actual Coke in it?” I question. “Or is that just the name?”

“Nope, it really has Coke in it and it’s so good if you like chocolate. I love it but enjoy her banana pudding as well and that’s what I’m in the mood for today.”

“Hey, Miriam, Dale, Emerie,” a female voice says over my shoulder which has my PTSD rearing its ugly head as she arrives at our table. Nobody notices, so I take a moment to catch my breath before tuning back into the conversation taking place around me. “I don’t know you, of course, but I’m Thelma, the owner. I’ve seen you out and about as you roam our town these past few days.”

“Yes, ma’am. My name is Damien Strong, I was one of Levi’s friends,” I reply. “By any chance do you have banana pudding on your dessert menu today?”

“Definitely, also got carrot cake, lemon meringue pie, red velvet cake, and of course, Coca-Cola cake,” she says, listing off the items she’s offering today. “Let me guess, Emerie, you’re wanting your banana fix today?”

Emerie giggles as she nods. “I think we’re going to need at least one piece of Coca-Cola cake today too.” I eagerly nod since chocolateisone of my favorite things. At one point in time, it was an addiction but when it isn’t a staple offered when overseas, I got past the need to have it daily.

“Make it two pieces of the cake, Em’s banana pudding, and some coffee,” Dale advises.

“I’ll just take a refill on my water, please,” I say. “Em?”

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