WHO NEEDS FRIENDS?

"Mary Margaret Butler don't have no friends!" 

I still remember the taunts during her childhood. Not that it was by choice that she had no friends. I've seen and heard her make attempts to get to know her classmates a few times but she was snubbed. Children can be cruel, especially when they overhear the remarks of their parents. Folks knew her daddy had dumped her on my doorstep, and that my sister had turned her face to the wall and slowly drank herself into oblivion. They gossiped about the situation until their children caught on to the sad life of the kid nobody wanted.

It made me mad as a wet hen but I knew if I got into it with those dumb mothers, it would only make matters worse. So I stepped in and filled our free hours with fun. At first, I thought I wasn't going to be able to keep up. Though I loved my niece, I had no idea of what stamina it would take to raise a child. I mean after all, when they came to live with me above the Blue Moon, I was already closing in on forty. I had never been this close to kids since I was one. But I learned how to play softball on the school's diamond on Sunday afternoon's when we could have it to ourselves. I made a fisherman out of her like my daddy had done me; she took to it right away, put that wiggly worm on a hook, and flipped those little sun perch onto the bank as pretty as you please. We went to movies on Saturday night when there was something decent for us both. Picnics out in the woods. Dancin' to the old juke box in the Blue Moon. Singin' in the same pew at church on Sunday mornings. I helped with homework until she became smarter at it than me. And she was always with me during the week at the Blue Moon.

I don't think I ever insisted she work in the cafe with me but maybe I did imply that it was expected. After all, I had to work like a crazy person in order to keep a roof over our heads, to put food on our table, to clothe two people, and just make ends barely meet. It was a game at first; Mary
Margaret loved to learn how to bake oatmeal cookies, roll out a pie crust, and throw ingredients into the soup pot after she chopped them. She had a real knack for being a cook.

As a teenager, of course she gripped about washing dishes and waiting tables from time to time. By the time she reached that age, the customers had multiplied but I still didn't make enough money to hire a waitress. Or a dishwasher. So we both did whatever it took to keep the Blue Moon runnin' smooth like. I wished I could offer her more but she got the best of everything I could provide. And she often talked about savin' money to leave this hick town.

I thought for sure she would make friends in high school and that would help her be more settled, satisfied even. She was a smart gal, made the honor roll all the time. Mary Margaret was not a raving beauty, but with that red hair and those wide green eyes, she certainly wasn't hard on the eyes. I expected her to have girlfriends to giggle over a soda with, or to hang around with on the weekends. But she never brought anyone around. Boys? A few of her classmates would walk with her to the Blue Moon and come in for a soda; she'd make it and serve it and then get to work. Those boys weren't mean to her, didn't tease her in a bad way, seemed to like her well enough. But she never got asked out, at least she never told me if she did, not until that Tad guy came along when she was a sophmore and he was a senior.

If I had not been a God-fearin', law abidin' woman, I would have dug daddy's shotgun out of the attic, loaded it with buckshot, and gone huntin' for that jerk. He broke my gal's heart, told fasle tales about her, and left her with a deep distrust of men in general. Sometimes I wonder if she still harbors a little of that fear of being hurt, and is holdin' back from a lifelong commitment with Miguel because of it.

Livy Palmer went through school with Mary Margaret and came in once or twice for a soda. I thought she would make a nice girlfriend but I was set straight on that idea soon enough. She showed her true colors one Sunday after church when she asked my darlin' if she had a date for the prom. When Mary Margaret admitted that she didn't, that snippy Livy let her eyes run up and down the dress my niece wore, then laughed--one of those snide, ugly laughs meant to be a real put down. Her comment brought a tongue lashing from me--in fact, I will not print it on these page because I am ashamed that I hadn't at least stepped off the church property before I cussed.

"No wonder no one asked you, Mary Margaret. Just look at you. You're still the little orphan kid of Harts Corner. Maybe some of us should take up a collection."

Mary Margaret grabbed my arm and yanked me away from Livy Palmer's face. She marched me home and read me the riot act about tryin' to fight her battles for her. She warned me she would leave me, the Blue Moon, and Harts Corner if I ever did it again.

I didn't do it again.

And now that I'm gone, I can't belive that Livy Palmer Vandergriff has inserted herself into Mary Margaret's life again. I do have to give both of the credit though. When Livy lipped off to her, Mary Margaret put her soundly in her place and there was no comeback. And when Mary Margaret needed her in a dire situation, Livy pulled her swanky Caddy in the line of fire to save my niece's arse.

But with someone like that snotty woman hangin' around her, does Mary Margaret have any chance at a real friendship with someone who will appreciate her for what she is? I do not have a clue what is going on with these two. 

I think I hear my friend, Bess, so I'd best see what she's gettin' into a fuss about. Have a good night, folks.