My name is Angela, and for eleven years I paid for two people who never once said thank you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019ve worked the grill at Peg\u2019s diner in Kittanning for twenty-two years. I can crack eggs two at a time and keep six orders straight in my head while the radio plays. Numbers come easy to me at work. It\u2019s at home that I stopped counting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Faron Mott was sweet once. When we were young, he\u2019d wait in his truck after my late shift with a slice of coconut cream pie and one plastic fork. We\u2019d split it with the heater running and the country station turned low. I married him for those nights.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In 2015, his body shop closed. His credit went with it, and so did his mother\u2019s, because Earline had co-signed his last loan. \u201cJust till I\u2019m back on my feet, Ange,\u201d he told me. So I added him to my credit cards as an authorized user. Then Earline. The accounts stayed in my name. The statements came to my mailbox. The payments came out of my paycheck and my tip jar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gas. Beer. Bait. The casino bus to Erie. And every Friday at ten a.m., Earline\u2019s wash and set at the salon on Market Street.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It came to about six hundred dollars a month. One slow afternoon I did the math on a diner napkin. Six hundred times twelve times eleven. Almost eighty thousand dollars.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked at that number for a long time. Then I tore the napkin into little pieces and dropped it in the fryer trash, because knowing it didn\u2019t change anything. I still had to go home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This spring, Faron packed a duffel bag and said he needed \u201cto live a little.\u201d He took the big TV. He left me the house payment. And I didn\u2019t fight him on a single thing in the divorce, because I was scared that if I made noise, the judge would split his debts with me too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Our divorce was final last Tuesday. I wore my good blue blouse. Faron wore a fishing shirt with a bass on the pocket. Earline came along with a fresh perm, the one I\u2019d paid for the Friday before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Outside, on the stone steps, she pulled her coat tight and laughed like she was at a bingo hall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, don\u2019t you worry, Faron. She\u2019ll still pay for my hair.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Faron laughed too. \u201cAnge doesn\u2019t know how to say no. Never did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They didn\u2019t even lower their voices. A lady walking past with a stroller glanced at me like she felt sorry for me. That look hurt worse than the words.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I smiled. \u201cOf course,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I held out my hand and asked for the cards back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Faron\u2019s face went hard. \u201cYou start trouble over a couple of credit cards,\u201d he said, \u201cand I\u2019ll tell Peg you\u2019ve been skimming the register.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had never taken a penny from Peg in twenty-two years. But this is a small town. A rumor like that can follow you to the grocery store, to church, to every job application you\u2019ll ever fill out. My stomach turned over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I drove straight to the diner and told Peg everything. She was flipping hash browns and didn\u2019t even turn around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAngela, honey, if Faron Mott walks in here to talk about you, he\u2019s paying for his coffee first. And then he\u2019s leaving.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On my lunch break, I sat in my car behind the dumpster and called the banks. First card: closed. Second card: closed. On the third one, the one I use for groceries, I just took their names off. My lawyer had told me the cards were mine to handle. They weren\u2019t even mentioned in the divorce papers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That night, I cut my own copies in half over the kitchen trash can. When the last piece fell, I sat down and shook like I\u2019d done something criminal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Wednesday, Faron texted: \u201cGas pump ate my card. Stupid machine.\u201d I didn\u2019t answer. Thursday, Earline called the diner. Peg told her I was busy, which was true.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Faron still had one card left in his wallet. He didn\u2019t know it was dead too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Saturday was the county sports show at the fairgrounds. Peg\u2019s diner runs a food stand there every year, and I work the pierogi pan. My mother\u2019s recipe, potato and cheese, a dollar fifty apiece.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Around noon, I looked up and saw Faron walking into the boat tent with three of his buddies in camo caps. He stopped at a used bass boat, glitter red, and patted it like a horse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFifteen hundred down holds it?\u201d he said loud enough for half the tent. \u201cDone. Run it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He pulled out his wallet slowly so the boys could watch. He handed over the card with his name on it. My card.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The salesman swiped it. Frowned. Swiped it again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he looked at the little screen, looked at the back of the card, and started walking across the tent. Not toward Faron.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why would a boat salesman I\u2019d never met walk straight past my ex-husband and stop at my pierogi table with his card in his hand?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was a big man in a Steelers jacket with a name tag that said DALE. He set the card down on my table next to the sour cream.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMa\u2019am,\u201d he said, \u201care you Angela Mott?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I nodded. My spatula was still in my hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe machine says the account is closed, and the bank wants me to call the primary cardholder. Your name\u2019s the primary.\u201d He turned the card over. \u201cAnd this is your stand, right? Peg\u2019s? My mother used to eat at that diner every Sunday.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Behind him, the whole boat tent had gone quiet. Faron\u2019s buddies were staring. Faron\u2019s face was the same red as that boat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat account\u2019s mine,\u201d I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected. \u201cI closed it Tuesday. He\u2019s not authorized on anything of mine anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dale nodded like that was the most ordinary thing in the world. Then he walked back to Faron and held out the card between two fingers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSir, this card belongs to the lady at the pierogi stand. You got another way to pay the fifteen hundred?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Faron opened his wallet again. There was a five and two ones inside. One of his buddies, a guy I recognized from the bowling alley, actually laughed out loud. \u201cMr. Moneybags,\u201d he said, and this time it didn\u2019t sound like a compliment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Faron marched over to my table. He leaned in close so nobody would hear, the way he always did when he wanted me small.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou embarrassed me in front of everybody. You know what I\u2019m gonna tell Peg.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Peg was standing right behind me with a tray of onions. She set it down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGo ahead, Faron,\u201d she said. \u201cTell me. I\u2019ll pull twenty-two years of register tapes, and then I\u2019ll tell the whole county why you needed to make something up about the woman who paid your gas for eleven years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He didn\u2019t say anything. For the first time since I\u2019d known him, Faron Mott had nothing to say.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He left the fairgrounds without his buddies. They stayed and bought pierogi. Six each.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The next Friday, Earline went to her hair appointment like always. The salon on Market Street had kept my card on file for years. It got declined.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her stylist, Rhonda, called me at the diner to ask if there\u2019d been a mistake. I told her there hadn\u2019t. Rhonda was quiet for a second, then said, \u201cGood for you, Angie. She never tipped anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Earline walked out of that salon with wet hair in a plastic cap. Half of Kittanning heard about it before lunch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Two weeks later, she came into the diner. She sat at the counter, ordered coffee, and waited until the place was nearly empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFaron\u2019s sleeping on his cousin\u2019s couch,\u201d she said. \u201cHe can\u2019t make his truck payment. I thought, since you two were married so long, you might help him out. Just this once.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wiped the counter in front of her. Then I cut a slice of coconut cream pie and set it down with one fork.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThat\u2019s on the house, Earline,\u201d I said. \u201cThe rest isn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She looked at the pie for a long time. Then she paid for her coffee with exact change and left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Without Faron and Earline on my cards, I had about six hundred extra dollars every month for the first time in eleven years.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The first month, I caught up on the house payment. The second month, I fixed the porch steps that had been rotting since 2019. The third month, I opened a savings account and named it \u201cNapkin,\u201d because that\u2019s where my $80,000 went the first time, and I promised myself it wouldn\u2019t happen again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dale from the boat tent comes in for breakfast now on Saturdays. Two eggs over easy, rye toast, and a side of pierogi. Last week he asked if I\u2019d ever been fishing on the Allegheny. I told him I\u2019d paid for a lot of fishing trips but never actually gone on one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He laughed and said, \u201cWell, I\u2019ve got a boat that nobody bought. You bring the pie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I said yes. It turns out I do know how to say no. I just needed to learn when to say yes, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Have you ever carried someone who laughed at you for it? What made you finally put them down? Tell us in the comments.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My name is Angela, and for eleven years I paid for two people who never once said thank you. I\u2019ve worked the grill at Peg\u2019s diner in Kittanning for twenty-two years. I can crack eggs two at a time and keep six orders straight in my head while the radio plays. Numbers come easy to …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":26383,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-26382","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26382","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=26382"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26382\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":26384,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/26382\/revisions\/26384"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/26383"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=26382"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=26382"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/cehre.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=26382"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}