Page 23 of Confessions of a High School Guidance Counselor

The girl looked at me skeptically. “Why aren’t you wearing pants? Is it no-pants day?”

With my cheeks turned on full blush mode, I straightened and said, “This is a T-shirt dress. Maybe your mommy has one...”

The mother’s horrified look didn’t help with my embarrassment. I wanted to say,we didn’t have sex!But then again, there where children here. And also, was it any of her business if I had a fabulous one-night stand on a Wednesday? I mean, not really. Except for the fact that her children were offering hallway decorum lessons to me.

Ignoring the situation altogether, I turned and walked away, calling Mara on the phone instead of responding to her incensed texts.

When she answered, she said, “What do you mean you didn’t have sex!”

A guy said something in the background, and she shushed him. “I saw you two leaving. He was a total silver fox.”

I shook my head, squinting against the bright sunlight. “I had a panic attack in front of him! It was so humiliating. And then I didn’t want to come home and interrupt you, so I stayed in his bedby myselfuntil I snuck out! How much more pathetic can I get?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m getting an Uber to Waldo’s Diner. Come meet me with my bag? Please? I can’t afford to miss work, and I need some sympathy syrup.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She ended the call, surely to inform her partner there wouldn’t be another round, and I continued down the sidewalk, my feet hurting just as much as my head.

That’s the last time I go out with Mara. I was only closing in on thirty, but I was already too old for this. How Mara maintained her stamina was a mystery to me. Well, actually I knew. She took long walks on the beach while daydreaming up stories. But I wasn’t crazy enough to try something like cardio.

Finally, an Uber picked me up and drove to Waldo’s Diner, but I blanched when I saw the old car out front. My grandpa owned the place, but he usually didn’t get here for another half hour! He couldn’t see me in this state.

I slid down my seat and asked the driver, “Can you drive around for a bit?”

“Umm... you paid for the ride,” he said.

I began digging through my purse. “I have a ten with your name on it if you pull around.”

Just then, I saw Mara’s truck pull in, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “Never mind.”

“What about that ten?” he said as I reached for the door.

“Rule number one. Don’t hesitate.” I got out and scrambled to Mara’s backseat, hoping Grandpa Chester didn’t see me looking like this.

Mara was already laughing. “You’re seriously that worried about your grandpa seeing you in some guy’s T-shirt?”

I glared at her, reaching for my bag. “No need to add to the humiliation.”

“That’s fine,” Mara said. “I’ll tell you about my night.”

While she went into detail about her hot and wild night, I got ready for work. Thankfully, I’d packed a dress that didn’t need to be ironed. I struggled to pull on my shapewear, then slipped the gray knit dress over my head. My makeup bag was in there, so I used a makeup wipe to take off what I could, then hurriedly slathered on some foundation and added eyeliner and mascara.

“Too bad we can’t swap stories,” she said pointedly.

I ignored her, making sure I got a straight line along my lid. Once I capped my makeup and packed it up, we got out of her truck and walked into the diner.

It was decorated in a fifties theme with a boomerang pattern on the tabletops and chrome and pleather chairs. Sounds of sizzling food came from behind the bar, and delectable, greasy scents filled my nose.

But the person that made Waldo’s Diner feel most like home sat a few rows down in his usual booth with a newspaper and a cup of coffee.

He grinned at me, deepening the wrinkles on his face, and pushed himself up. “There’s my Birdie Girl.”

“Hi, Grandpa,” I said, going to give him a squeeze. He gave the best hugs. Just a second longer than you’d expect so you knew just how loved you were.

He stepped back and offered the same kind of hug to Mara. Anyone who set foot in his diner became family, especially his granddaughter’s friend.

“Join me,” he said, scooting his newspaper over. As we sat with him, he said, “Is there a reason you were wearing a T-shirt earlier?”

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