Page 11 of Saint
He had served in the Vietnam War when he was eighteen until he was twenty-two. He happened to be a prisoner of war, and he was tortured.
An infection had set in by the time they got him out, and it had spread by the time he had been taken to Japan and then brought back to the United States.
My heart broke when they shared this story with me one night while we ate dinner with them.
Seeing the beautiful home they had and all the colors, I had promised my daughter, after I talked to the landlord, that we would be painting her room when I got my first paycheck.
Yes, I was able to find a job as a waitress at Wilson’s.
Wilson’s was a diner.
And thanks to our neighbors, whom I had dubbed our guardian angels, they were watching Soraya first thing in the morning, and Mr. Robbins was taking her to school for me.
I worked at the diner from five-thirty until one-thirty in the afternoon.
Thankfully, Mr. Wilson believed that a waitress shouldn’t have to rely solely on tips.
So, I got five dollars and thirty cents an hour plus tips.
And seeing as Wilson’s was the only diner in town, the place never slowed down.
Also, it was the only place that served hot food and hot coffee.
Yes, with my first paycheck and some pretty good tips, we were able to paint Soraya’s room.
Now... my girl can be a girly girl. However, her favorite color isn’t pink or purple. Nope, not my girl. It’s sage green.
And it looked beautiful on her walls.
I was also able to get a few knick-knacks to decorate the house, seeing as it was closing in on Thanksgiving.
***
Seeing as I was off today, I had promised Soraya that we would be going into town today and getting hot cocoa that Mr. Wilson served.
It was made with fresh milk, melted chocolate, mini marshmallows, crushed candy canes, and whipped cream.
Which was what the two of us were doing at this very moment.
Soraya had just taken a sip of hers when she lowered the mug.
I had to bring my own up to cover my face.
However, I hadn’t made it in time.
Because Soraya looked at me and asked with a smile on her face, “What?”
I grinned, “You’ve got a mustache.”
She giggled, “Monnie, girls don’t have those.”
I lifted my brow, set my mug down, then opened my purse and pulled out a mirror.
The moment she saw her face in the reflection, she gasped, and then she started giggling while saying, “Monnie, you have to do it too. You don’t want me to be the only cool one, do you?”
I shook my head at my girl, and god forbid I ever did anything that would make my daughter stop being cheerful.
Therefore, I followed suit and ensured that I also had a mustache to match hers.
