He was a tall man, rather pale, and obviously someone important. I went over, handed him a wine card, with of course the cocktail list facing, and asked: “May I get you something, sir?” He asked for a tonic on the rocks, without even opening the card, and when I turned to the bar, Jake was already opening a bottle, and putting it out beside a highball glass with one rock in it. “Hold on to your tray at all times,” he said, “and watch the cork center. It’s to keep stuff from sliding around, but if you’re not used to it, tricky.” I went back to the table, put down the glass and poured, and took the bottle back, throwing it into the box under the bar. Then I walked past Mr. Four-Bits to my place near the men’s room. But he turned and motioned me to him. “You’re new here?” he asked.
“Yes, sir-this is my first night … If you have to know, you’re my first customer.”
“What’s your name?”
“Mrs. Medford.”
At last, after watching it all day, it slipped out on me, but at once I corrected it. “Joan.”
“You gave yourself away.”
“… I already said it’s my first night.”
“I can’t say I’ve found many cocktail waitresses called ‘Mrs.’ It sounds more like the way a lady announces herself.”
“I am a lady, I hope.”
“That may be; not every waitress is.” He said it with a glance in Liz’s direction. I couldn’t imagine what he found unladylike in her deportment or manner and not in mine, unless it was that I had called him sir. We were wearing the same outfit, after all, with the same fraction of the buttons on our blouses unbuttoned and the same lack of concealing fabric underneath.
“The ones that I know are,” I said. “And I imagine most of them are. Being a waitress and being a lady are not incompatibles.”
“That’s a very big word for a waitress.”
“I’m sorry, sir, if you prefer smaller ones, let’s say a person can be both.”
“… Well, then, what do you want me to call you?”
“Whatever you wish, sir.”
“Mrs. Medford?”
“… I admit in a bar it sounds a bit silly.”
“I agree. I’d rather call you Joan.”
“Then, please do.”
We both were sounding self-conscious, and our eyes locked. His gaze wandered down to my legs, and then locked with mine again. I knew that, in spite of our small clash, or perhaps because of it, this man was attracted to me. I waited, and then, in a faintly personal way, asked him: “What do you want me to call you?”
He waited, while his mouth twitched in a smile, and then very solemnly said: “I’m Earl K. White the Third.”
He spoke as though I should know who Earl K. White the Third was, and perhaps even fall down from surprise, but I’d never heard of Earl K. White the Third. However, hating to disappoint any man well-off enough for there to be three of him, I pitched my voice as though greatly impressed: “Oh? Really?”
“Yes. Now you know.”
“Mr. White, I’m honored.”
“Mrs. Medford, Joan, likewise.”
Then, after looking me up and down once more, especially down, he added: “If I may be personal, Joan, I’d say your husband’s a lucky man.”
I knew it was really a question, and I waited a moment before answering. Then: “Mr. White,” I told him, “I don’t have a husband- I’m recently widowed, I’m sorry to say. But I do have a child that I have to support, a little boy three years old, which is why I took this job, and came out in this outlandish garb. I may say I applied for work on the restaurant side, but then was told I was wanted in here, or more qualified for work in here, whatever it was. I don’t myself quite know the reason for my transfer-unless they thought I looked well in the uniform. Or costume. Or lack of costume-whatever it is.”
“Whatever it is, it’s most becoming.” Then: “Joan, I judge you’ve been through the wringer-may I express my sympathy? Belated, but sincere. I’ve been through the same wringer. I’m widowed too- my wife died a few years ago.”
“Oh? Then I express my sympathy too.”
“Thank you, Joan. Thank you very much.”
It was all stiff, self-conscious, but we managed to get it said: I was free, and he was. Then, as though to switch to casual things, he said: “Beautiful weather we’re having.”
Now my mother had said to me once, “You’ll be told: Don’t talk about the weather. Joan, always talk about it. It’s the one thing everyone has in common with everyone else, and often the only thing to talk about. Talk isn’t always so easy-talk about what you can talk about.”
“Oh it certainly is,” I answered. “I read somewhere there are more quotations about June, about the weather we have in June, than about any other month. A day like today you know why.”
“That’s fascinating, Joan, I’ll have to look it up in Bartlett.”
Who Bartlett was I had no idea, though next day I found out. We talked along, about the difference a fine day makes, and then suddenly he asked for his check, and I went to the bar and wrote it. When I brought it to him, he took out a five-dollar bill and put it down, but when I reached for it he covered my hand and put it aside. Then he picked up the five, returned it to his wallet, and took out a twenty that he put down in its place. I took it to the bar, rang up 85 cents on the register, and took out his change, three fives, four ones, and 15 cents in nickels. Then remembering about the four bits, I put one of the ones back and took four quarters out. Then I put the fives, ones, and change on a pewter change tray that was there, and went back to the table with them. I confess it was in my mind, as a way of being on purpose quite personal, to decline the two quarters he’d give me-“Please, Mr. White, not from you.” Because, I don’t mind saying, a rich widower who liked me wasn’t someone to treat as a customer. “I think of you as a friend,” I was going to let myself stammer-but he crossed me up. When I put down the change he waved it off, being already on his feet. “That’s even, Joan-thanks for a most pleasant visit. I’ll probably be in tomorrow, and look forward to seeing you then.”
I couldn’t make myself give back $19.15, I needed it so.
He left, and I noticed for the first time a man in chauffeur’s uniform waiting for him in the foyer. I knew I’d made a strike that could be important to me, but what stuck in my mind was: I wished I liked him better.