The Curious Waitress

By Janet Marloe

My name is Leslie Anne Brennemann. My mother was Loretta Lynn Brenneman, and I am proud of who I am. Well, now I am. I don't remember being mad all the time, but I do remember when this all began. I was getting pieces of a puzzle from some bad sources at school, even my family who were trying to protect me just made things worse. No one knew the truth back then, but it was obvious something was amiss with my life.
The day I got expelled was the moment that everything began to change for me. I realized I had a gift, if you could call it that. I liked being a detective. I liked trying to learn things, trying to discover the truth, just like Sherlock Holmes. I never became a detective though, I became a curious waitress.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janet Marloe
• Release date: Jul 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311438614

Janet Marloe

The Curious Waitress series comes from works by author Janet Marloe. She has been writing since 1987 and has previous works not published here.

Book preview

The Curious Waitress

A Novel by the Curious Waitress

Copyright 2018 Janet Marloe

Book I

Copyright 2018 Janet Marloe

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 979-8532389236

To: Isabella

The Curious Waitress

#

Prologue

I don't remember being angry like most kids, I wasn't pissed off all the time, but everyone says I was. I don't even know why, but when you're a kid it just happens. Life comes at you pretty fast.

I was born into chaos. Chaos is my middle name. Not really, it's Anne, pronounced Anne, but it seems like it should be Chaos. I like the name Chaos, it fits me pretty good.

My name is Leslie Anne Brennemann. My mother was Loretta Lynn Brennemann, and I am proud of who I am. Well, now I am. Like I said I don't remember being mad all the time, but I do remember when this all began. I was getting pieces of a puzzle from some bad sources at school, even my family who were trying to protect me just made things worse. No one knew the truth back then, but it was obvious something was amiss with my life.

I feel so bad now. Poor Carter Elam...

I blamed him for a lot of this, but he was just trying to help me. I did put him through some horrendous poop. All the way growing up. I want to formally apologize...

It was the day I got expelled. That was the moment that everything began to change for me, in an explosion of events, that eventually shook my family, and the county, and changed a lot of us forever. That day, during lunch, my best friend Kyle had helped me and Carter Elam into a classroom, with the old computers and broken equipment. Carter helped me plug it all in. Of course, everything went south from that moment forward. Apparently, since there were only four kids in my grade, it was obvious when I turned up missing that I was not there. It was like I killed the pope or something. Everyone at school was pissed.

Now, just a few days before that, I was sent home for punching Ricky Simpson in the chest so I was pretty raw. He was three years younger than me; he was really puny and everyone says I probably could have killed him. I just got angry and he kept following me around.

But this is not about Ricky Simpson, who grew up just fine and doesn't even remember the incident. Or he says he doesn't.

Momma sent me to Father Charlie, with hopes that I would turn away from Satan, that Father Charlie somehow would find a way to get through to me. He did prevent me from going all chicken killer I will give him that, but for the most part he couldn't help. I had to tell him how I started punching people in the chest, and hitting them with a dirt sock. He started treating me differently. Then there were my friends, who came up with the idea that I may have been kidnapped as a baby. Strange as it sounds, it was the only viable possibility that really fit, and the deeper I went down the rabbit hole, the more that scenario made sense.

That day I went on the offensive. I never told my mother I was expelled and would soon begin a life of crime. I'm sure that was what everyone was expecting. My reputation was beginning to stick, and it was not the best for a 14-year-old. The burning flame that was engulfing me whole was a simple question that had no good answer.

Why was I so different?

Kids made fun of me, adults were confused when they looked at me, and teachers were suspicious when my mother introduced me. People don't just look like me in Hyannis Nebraska. I was at the age where I wanted to fit in, but my family was inexplicable, and by that, I mean I could not explain how they even got pooled together. So, I was on a quest to learn about who I was, and it started with a question that I never got the answer to.

Maybe I was a little mad that day. Just a little. I asked my mom, Who is my father? Actually, I asked that question at the top of my lungs. There was some stomping involved.

I can remember my mom sitting on the front porch and leaning against the house. I could tell she was not interested in discussing the subject anymore. She fidgeted and spoke softly into her mug, You should know that, we've talked about that already.

That day still bothers me.

I snapped and I ran away. I'm glad I didn't get my bike, otherwise I may have made it to another country I was so mad. OK I hear it now.

Times were not hard back then but it felt that way. My life was so miserable, or at least that was what I thought. We had money coming out of our ears, and although I really never needed anything, I was fed-up. I hated my life.

When I was little, I walked everywhere, I had to run behind Kyle on his stupid bike for years and years. I had to literally beg for a bicycle, meanwhile we're building a hotel and buying cattle like we owned a hamburger stand. The tribe had made a decision and we would abide. We would live like paupers. That was the decision. Funny how living like paupers only applied to me.

It was funny because I could not get a game room, yet we had a chuck wagon. A horse drawn wagon that converts into a kitchen. Really. It was decked out better than our house, and yet we did not eat out of it, the Chief used it to feed the three guys that lived in the new hotel we built.

We had a barn and no animals.

I could not have a puppy.

I could not have a cat.

We had an ostrich that ran away and for all I know he made it back to Africa.

The tribe. My mom and my aunts made up the tribe. It was like a girl’s club. There were no boys allowed, like there were any anyway. This tribe was explained to me to be my family, and as I grew up, it really was my family. Each one of them. I wish I had taken it seriously back then.

My family didn't look like other families or pictures on the internet, it really didn't make sense to me. It's hard to explain to people, at church or school, especially when everyone makes sure to treat you differently because of it.

And the tribal decisions were pretty much just what the girls wanted. They all grew up together, my mother Loretta Lynn, and all my aunts... Oh there were more members of the tribe but these women were the elders. Which didn't make sense because they weren't the oldest, and my mom was boss which didn't make sense because she never made any decisions. Grandma Brennemann, Grandma Hernandez and my great Aunt Lenore were the matriarchs because they were so old, but they never spoke at the meetings, they just baked.

The men, like all my uncles, would meet outside and have their own Pow Wow, which had beer and whiskey and the pile of meat table, which I wish we had inside.

Well, anyway since I had enough that one day, I ran away to a secret location, close enough to be home for dinner but far enough away that they would never find me. In Hyannis that pretty much left only one place, and apparently my idea was not a new one.

Although I was prepared to sleep in the desert, I got as far as my school. I was climbing up on a billboard when I heard a car door slam. My Aunt Mary was waiting for me.

That was the day I became old enough to understand things, that was the day my life changed. Because it was that moment, when I realized I had a gift, if you could call it that. I liked being a detective. I liked trying to learn things, trying to discover the truth, just like Sherlock Holmes. I never became a detective though; I became a curious waitress.

This is the story of my life.

#

9-year-old Leslie Anne Brennemann sees the pictures on the wall in a strange light. The old house, the cow, the old white people with white hair, some of the pictures on the counter, close-ups that reveal their dark brown eyes. Even on the computer, the images scroll by of all the family members, Irish people and Viking people with dark long hair and pale white skin. The images move, the people laugh and throw things, all of them from the Brennemann clan going as far back as the 1800's.

One picture draws her attention more and more as the days go on. A brown image in a separate wooden frame that stands alone on the wall, and she has to climb onto the counter to look at it closely. A man and a woman stand in front of a field, and if you look closely, and examine their blurry faces long enough, their features dissolve. You cannot tell if they have green eyes or red hair, their skin looks dark, but in this one picture, different shades of brown render everything.

Leslie's big green eyes remain transfixed. In her mind she can hear the wind that blows the woman's hair, and feel the heat of the sun shining in their faces, and she can even feel the dust sticking to their skin. A connection binds her to them somehow, but for some reason she just can't understand it. Bright red hair, kinky and curly, pale white skin with dark freckles, makes her stand out from everyone else in the family, and the differences are no longer subtle. She’s beginning to take notice.

She just stepped inside to go to the bathroom, but the old pictures have begun to call her, and before she goes back outside, she takes a much closer look. She runs back across the yard without answers, climbing up the embankment onto the highway without a glance in either direction, through a broken part of the fence at the top of a small hill. Her giant ball of hair radiates in the sun, bobbing back and forth as she runs, her freckles darkening in the summer, brought out by the blue in her overalls. She sprints to catch up with her friends already way off in the distance, pulling a wagon filled with junk for the fort they plan to build somewhere.

She catches them at the bottom of a highly overgrown valley, the old dirt road disappearing behind tall drying grasses, swallowing them also as they disappear around a bend.

#

Gargantua

Leslie's mother, Loretta Lynn, passes her on the stairs, carefully navigating through open jars of paint and glasses of water, Leslie, I told you do your artwork at the table...

Leslie politely ignores her and watches her feet carefully navigate the obstacles.

Aunt Dory's here. She says as she moves to the front door, her hair still a mess from her afternoon nap.

Aunt Dory, the crazy one in the family and the oldest, had been the only one to 'get out', and when she got out, she got way out. She was also the only one with green eyes and red hair, cropped short normally, but when it grew out, it remained straight and light, without even a bend or curl. Dory was a real traveling soul, that slept all day, and stayed up all night. She always had great stories and always came back with gifts.

Leslie follows her mother with her paint brush still in hand. The front door opens up and she spots Dory struggling behind the driver’s seat. Leslie rushes up to her.

Open the trunk. The trunk of the car pops open.

Leslie peeks inside the robot car for gifts.

Hey kiddo! Dory yanks out a giant stuffed bear.

Is that for me? Leslie asks with open arms.

Dory stuffs the furry face into Leslie’s arms, I was in Florida.

Oh my God! Leslie grows ecstatic. I love her!

Loretta Lynn steps up with a big grin, and she hugs Dory, How are you?

Lynn I've got something for you. She shuts the door and moves to the trunk, I'll show you when we get inside.

The bear stands as big as Leslie, and she struggles to walk with it. Grunting and smiling from ear to ear, Oh my God. She's so big. The paint brush smears blue paint on a giant fuzzy leg.

Mary, look! Leslie looks up to the porch to see her other aunt, emotionally unmoved by the giant stuffed animal. Mary, the family Bullet Ant, has an opinion about everything and may be more of a mother to Leslie than Loretta. She runs everything, and always makes the decisions when a decision has to be made. Leslie always clung to Mary's side, except when Dory came home.

She stands on the porch with her hands on her hips, not even a hint of a smile. A formidable force, black and heavy, built like a linebacker, with an afro and a motherly scowl, she stands in her jeans and boots glaring at Loretta Lynn.

Dory loops a long green seabag over her shoulder and Loretta closes the trunk. As they walk towards the house, Loretta discreetly scans inside the car for signs of Dory's state. The large cup in the cup holder draws her focus, then she folds her arms across her chest, sighs and looks up to Mary on the front porch. They make eye contact, and without a word, a lot gets spoken in Loretta's body language.

Mary stops Dory just after Leslie fights through the door with the giant bear. She pulls her to one side and pushes her into a column. Are you drunk?

Dory pushes Mary back and into the window frame, Suck it Mary, I'm here to see the kid.

Just as Mary lurches forward Loretta squeezes between them and pushes her back, Have you eaten yet? We have some pork chops and potatoes...

Dory wipes her lip and snatches her sea bag, Thank you Lynn. I would love that. She glares at Mary, going through the door with the bag dragging behind her.

Leslie tries to take the bear upstairs, but completely forgot about her paints and she has tumbled on the stairs, Dory catches her and the bear on the way down. Whoa! Careful kiddo!

Leslie squeals as they both tumble to the floor. Paint, especially yellow paint, slides down the wall, down the wooden stairs and pools on the hardwood. The bear got covered, and as Leslie and Dory tumble laughing on the soft bear, the incident escalates.

Dory holds Leslie in a warm bear hug when Mary bursts through the door and grabs Dory by the shirt and hair, ripping Leslie from her arms. The room erupts in screaming, women come flying in from every direction, and before Leslie even knows what just happened, the two of them punch and kick at each other like two roosters in a pen.

Dory, a lethal weapon especially when drinking, flings women all over the place trying to get her hands around Mary's neck. Mary on the other hand, has Loretta sitting on her chest, and Natalie holding her legs, like police restraining a mental patient. The older women stand no chance against Dory, who springs loose, up and over Loretta, to lay a good wallop on Mary's face.

Loretta jumps up and drives Dory into the couch while Leslie screams at the top of her lungs in horror. Men come running inside from the back yard and start separating them, putting Dory in a headlock on the floor, and dragging Mary out through the front door.

Leslie follows, kicks open the screen just as it slams in her face, Why do you do that? Why are you so mean to your own sister!? She screams. It's my fault, I fell down the stairs. Why don't you beat me up?

She throws her paint brush at her and runs off around the house.

Mary has a bloody nose and the guys begin to release her. You need to stay outside Mary. One of them says.

Mary nods, Damnit. She composes herself as they let her go. The two men stand ready in the event she takes off again, a lesson they have learned the hard way.

Dory has three men restraining her, and she still fights. They hold her legs and arms and cling to her until she starts to relax. Then she passes out. They pour her onto the couch while the remaining women immediately go about cleaning up the mess.

Loretta stands over her, but her attention remains outside. She watches Leslie throw the paintbrush and run away. Pushing the back screen open, she watches Leslie running through the field towards the pond. Leslie! She yells, but no reaction comes. She climbs onto a four-wheeler and gives chase.

When she gets to the pond, she turns along the trail to find Leslie on her knees by the water crying. She pulls up and sits down next to her.

Hey, come here. Leslie folds into her arms. It's OK. Everything’s fine… It was just a misunderstanding.

I'm sorry. I forgot my paints were there. She sobs apologetically.

No. No. It's not your fault. It's my fault, I should have helped you put them away when I saw you. That's why we need to not paint on the stairs anymore.

They move into a better sitting position, and Loretta struggles to catch her breath. She has long black hair and smooth pale white skin, the opposite of Leslie's dark freckled complexion, and wild red afro.

God, why does Mary hate her so much?

Loretta takes a deep breath and tries to adjust the hair from her face, Well, it goes back a long ways. She continues to breathe through her mouth.

What did Dory do?

What did Dory NOT do you mean? They have always been at each other's throats. Especially after they've been drinking.

She's gonna make Dory run away again. I hate her.

Loretta’s lips get lighter, No you don't hate her. You're just mad at her. Mary thought Dory was trying to hurt you, so her cougar instincts kicked in.

Cougars don't kill their sisters.

Loretta smiles, Well... Most of them don't. She makes a capitulatory noise then falls back in the sand, Wow that was exciting.

Leslie wipes her face and turns to her mother, then lays down next to her.

After a moment of silence, they hear footsteps and Leslie sits up to see Mary walking up all disheveled.

Go away nobody likes you.

Mary stops, still breathing hard, Look I'm sorry. I may have overreacted.

You think? Leslie snaps and curls up.

I'm taking off Loretta. She turns angrily and starts walking back.

Leslie glances at her mother, and suddenly the air flies away. Loretta looks off into the clouds, her face pale, and her lips almost white.

Mom?

Loretta gestures, but doesn't look right. Leslie has become familiar with these fainting spells, Mary! She yells and turns her body fully towards her mother.

Mary rushes up to them, Sit her up. Help me get her up.

They struggle to get Loretta to sit up, though she has drifted unconscious, her eyes rolled back in her head.

Splash some cold water on her face. Mary barks and Leslie jumps up and stomps into the mud by the pond. She scoops up some water and brings it back to her mother, then throws it in her face.

Loretta... Mary taps her cheeks, and wipes the water around her neck. Loretta Lynn.

Leslie gets more water and tries again. This time her mother's eyes roll back into view.

Stay with me Loretta. Mary shakes her arms and taps her face.

Leslie grabs a hand and keeps slapping it. Mom. Momma. Mom.

She begins to come back, regaining control of her head, OK, I'm OK,

Mary just sits with Loretta in her arms, and Leslie sits at her knees holding her hand.

You need to go to confession. Leslie blurts out.

Loretta responds in a daze, What'd I do?

Not you. Her! Leslie gives Mary the stink eye, a non-verbal indicator that she has nothing but bile and hatred for her. It was a standard that the women of