“I’m sorry about the uniform,” Ursula, the manager, said. “I’ve tried to make changes and even add stockings or leggings to it, but the owner is adamant that it stay like this.”
“That’s just a sick thought,” I said. I tended the drink stall, occasionally leaning over to fry the miniature donuts that were quite popular among the teenagers bowling away.
I saw Tom arrive alone and start playing by himself. As the first hour went by and the teenagers began to leave to meet their curfews, the men began to get rowdy. As expected, the men began to hit on me.
Finally, my husband spotted me, his eyes darkening as he watched the attention. “What the hell, Lisa?” Tom stormed over, eyes blazing. “What are you doing?”
“I’m working, Tom,” I said with a smirk.
“You wanted me to get a second job, remember?”
“This isn’t what I meant!” he yelled. “Well, I’m getting great tips,” I retorted. My husband’s jaw clenched.
“Quit. Now,” he barked. “We need the money,” I said, walking away to serve another table.
Tom went back to bowling, not wanting to cause a bigger scene. But I knew that the moment my shift was over, he would be back on the topic. He kept glancing at me every few minutes.
About halfway through my shift, Ursula approached me. “Is he bothering you too?” she asked, nodding toward Tom. “What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled.
Ursula sighed a deep sigh. “That man has seduced almost all the waitresses here. One even had his child two weeks ago.
I heard that she’s after him for child support now. Apparently she did a paternity test to prove it and all.”
I knew that Ursula had no idea that I was married to Tom, so there wasn’t a need to lie or mask the truth. What she had just told me was a version of Tom that I didn’t know existed.
So, that’s why he wanted me to get a second job. He wanted me to pay for his child support. I marched over to Tom, ignoring the eyes of the other patrons.
“You’re a disgusting human!” I screamed, slapping him hard across the face. “What the hell, Lisa?” he yelled, holding his cheek. “You’ve been involved with the waitresses here?!
And one just had your baby?” I spat, tears streaming down my face. Tom’s face went pale. “I can explain,” he stammered.
“I don’t care,” I said. “I don’t want to hear it. You will pack your things and get out tonight.
Tomorrow, I will file for divorce.”
I stormed out of the bowling alley, my heart shattered. Who was the man that I had married?
