She was kind of a ghost to the people of rural Kentucky. Just showing up one day, skin all leather and mouth all gums.
‘She worked the grill at Don’s. Didn’t never talk very much, her head always down,‘ said one wiry old timer. ‘I can’t imagine what man would be desperate enough to bed her, but sure enough. She got the baby growing inside of her.’
The old crow worked through the pregnancy. Don felt bad and wanted to give her some time off, but the woman was a fast cook, flipping and what not. He didn't have a choice. The belly grew quick and large.
‘She was rubbing up against the grill, burning her stomach every shift, making the food taste funny.’
So Don fashioned a makeshift guard out of an old trash can lid and duct tape.
Problem solved.
It was during a dinner shift halfway through the second trimester that Don remembers a funny look on his cook’s face.
‘I just assumed it was gas. Her hand was always in the sauerkraut bucket. She used to eat that shit by the handful.‘ The old lady complained of diarrhea. She used the toilet and came back five minutes later. Don taped her trash lid back on real tight and the two pushed through the dinner rush.
At the end of the night Don paid the women cash, just like he always had. ‘She said something on her way out, but I keep my headphones on when I mop. I just hollered that I’d see her tomorrow.’
It wasn’t until Don was locking up that he heard the baby cry. In the bathroom, hidden behind the toilet and taped up like a hitman’s 9mm was the newborn. Scribbled across the belly in black magic marker, ‘sorry, it wouldn’t flush.’
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