Mary hadn't told anyone about what happened that night at Hungry Jim's. She couldn't. She didn't even want to admit it to herself.
She finally went back to work. She didn't know what else to do. She avoided looking at Jim, and he didn't bother her. They both went about their business wordlessly. Polly wondered about the change in atmosphere, but didn't say anything. Mary avoided staying late with Jim to help close up, and Jim didn't insist. It was an undeclared truce between the two; a conspiracy of silence.
Joe hadn't been to the restaurant in several days, and Mary was quietly glad. She didn't want to see him. She didn't want to talk to anybody. She just needed to be alone inside her mind.
There was so much she needed to figure out. It was all still a mess. She was a mess. How did she wind up here? Why did she run away? She just couldn't take it anymore; her mother's nagging. Her mother wanted her to go to to college. “You're too smart,” she used to say. “Don't waste your mind -- like I did. Make something of yourself.” And on and on. “Don't get mixed up with boys -- especially not that --” (fill in the name of Mary's latest friend -- it didn't matter, her mother was against them all) -- against me -- why was she always against me? If she hadn't always been against me, I could've stayed.
Never satisfied. She was never satisfied with me. Do this; do that. You're not doing it the right way. It's not clean enough. Do it again. And again. And again. Every day the same thing. I had to get out of there. Find something new. Anything. Anything would be better than that.It got so I was scared. Scared of what? I don't know. Scared of what? So I left. Got out of there. Hopped on a bus. Wherever it went. When I got tired of riding, here I was. Where am I? What am I doing? Maybe she was right. Maybe I am wasting my life. But it's my life.
