On the drive home and in spite of herself, Babe is thinking about Jimmy. She knows that his face and the internal movies she plays for herself over and over definitely belong to the past. In fact, they've developed a certain fixedness, as if they've been shellacked, which happens when memories have become yellowed and too blurred to reveal anything but the same few details. But she holds on to them anyway, like a tacky charm bracelet: the patch of whiskers on his left cheek that he nearly always missed when he shaved, the register drawer that stuck and had to be pried with the screwdriver they kept next to it, the way he clearly pronounced "Ahh Choo" when he sneezed, as if he thought it was something one needed to say when sneezing as a matter of form. Of course these memories inevitably lead to the one she hates, the one where she walks into the Lizard at four to open up, and she finds Jimmy sitting on the floor in a corner, in a pool of booze and with some bimbo's tube dress awkwardly yanked over him. All he could garble out was, "She took my wallet. She took my clothes. She took my wallet," over and over. Of course she had taken much more than that, including the money from last night's drawer, most of their stock, and even the contents of the small safe they kept in back. Babe didn't bother to stick around until Jimmy was sober enough to explain to her why he'd opened the safe for his bimbo or shown her how to open the register drawer. She could stand a lot of bad treatment from Jimmy, but if there's one thing she's never been able to tolerate, it's being made a fool of. She won't ever stand for that. She left him then and there, sitting in his tube dress and his puke. Within a week she was settled and working in another city. She hasn't been back to South Carolina since.
The Battery Acid Babe is an aggressive and impatient driver. When she notices some guy in a blue Saturn is tailgating her, even though she's going ten over the speed limit, she jabs at her brakes two or three times, which immediately makes him back off. She smiles because she loves that trick. "Serves 'em right!" Ted said when he first told about that maneuver. Ted taught her a lot of things, most of them about how to make people do what you want them to do. Some of it still comes in handy once in a while. Ted was a master at controlling people; he had such a way of talking. Of course Ted is an idiot. But she knew that when she married him. She thought it would be nice to be married to a lawyer, to have enough money to buy whatever she wanted and go on trips and stuff like that. She hadn't realized that having lots of money can make people think you will forgive them for any idiot thing they try on you.
Babe curses herself for spending another drive home thinking about people she doesn't know anymore.

Luckily, Jessie's had a chance to compose herself in the kitchen by the time Ted walks into the Blue Parrot. "Well, a good a.m. to you, little lady. You're looking a bit red-rimmed."
"Oh, Ted, l'll never get married."
"Now, are we back to that again?"
"You don't know what it's like. You've already been married once. Look at me-- I'm 26 and don't even have a boyfriend."
"Hey, you got me, sugar. I'll be your man."
"Quit it, Ted. Stop making fun of me."
"No sugar, l wouldn't make fun of you. I'm serious. I messed up bad with Elaine, but I want to do it right this time. I'll do right by you."
"Shut up, Ted," Jessie giggles. "You don't want me. Do you want some coffee?"
"Yeah, sure. Espresso," he mumbles.
Jessie heads for the espresso machine, which she dreads, while Ted picks one of the circular cafe tables in the middle of the room even though he's the only one there. As he fiddles with the sugar packets, he notes to himself how all the Blue Parrot's tables are too small in circumference to hold more than a few coffee cups. He shouts to Jessie that if she had bigger tables, customers might be inclined to order more than drinks from her menu. He's thinking "Plates and silverware." She doesn't understand his words because she's too busy at the espresso machine, whose pressurized steam has burned her on more than one occasion when she failed to correctly secure the arm containing the coffee grounds. Hot, wet grounds, steam, and espresso exploded all over her and the front counter. These were nasty experiences she does not wish to repeat. She thinks Ted's kind of loony, anyway; very often she just ignores him. She doesn't ask herself why he comes by the Blue Parrot nearly every day.
While she works on his coffee, Ted pulls out of his wallet a folded postcard of the "Rocky Steps," those leading up to the Museum of Modern Art in Philadelphia. He found it a few months ago in Jessie's purse. Because it was from Babe, he took it. Jessie wouldn't miss it of course: out of her sight, out of her mind. And it only seemed right since her sister would most likely send Jessie another, while Ted had nothing from Babe.
On the back Babe wrote, "Dear J-- Everything's fine by me. Enjoying Philly. Hope you're keeping the Parrot afloat. Love, E." Ted knows that Babe had written the last sentence out of kindness; even he knows the cafe is owned by their father, who takes care of the financial matters by paying all Jessie's personal and professional bills as well as depositing a monthly sum into Jessie's own account. She simply carries a money card with her and never writes anything down. Ted has seen this happen. The arrangement seems to suit everyone better than would the perpetual worry of actually letting Jessie try to run things. Ted knows worry can eat a man alive.
In the white spaces of the post card (nearly half of it) Jessie has written various messages to herself, including sentences which curl out and around her sister's words. "Say the thing now. All Jessie knows isn't your name. Do you like my dress?" She arranged the sentences so the first letter of each one lines up to spell out SAD. Ted wonders how long she'd been carrying it around in her purse before he took it. The postcard isn't dated.
"Jessie darlin', do me a favor."
"Sure, Ted. You want a cup of regular?" Jessie has an eager look on her face as she turns away from the espresso machine and heads for her coffee pot. She loves to wait on Ted.
"No, doll." I want you to give something to Elaine as soon as possible."
"Oh, no problem. I'll give it to her this afternoon. Oh. Whoops." Jessie turns away from Ted, aghast that she's messed up again. Ted wasn't supposed to know her sister had moved back to Macnamera.
"Elaine is in town?"
"No. I mean, yes she is. But she's just here on a visit. She still lives in Philly. She hasn't moved or anything."
"Skip the espresso, doll. I gotta go." Jessie watches the back of Ted's head as it disappears down the stairs that lead to the first floor of the mall.
"Oh, Jessie. You're so dumb. Now Elaine is going to kill me," she hates herself for never being able to keep a secret. "I can't ever keep a secret or a man!" she wails.

Tonight at Kirk's Klub the Battery Acid Babe is dressed for winter, even though it's not really cold yet in Macnamera. Under her fishnets she wears thick pink tights. The sleeves of her turquoise leotard reach down to her elbows. And she's spread her makeup on more thickly than usual. She still wears her stilettos, but none of her tattoos is visible.
"Hey, what's with the outfit?" asks Kirk, who's been giving Babe more and more trouble in the last few weeks. "You forget to shave?"
"No, man. You keep it too damn cold in here lately. I got goose bumps all night," which isn't actually true but may satisfy him.
"Oh, hey, l'll keep you warm after work," he says, grabbing at her.
She dodges him and lies that she's waiting on an HIV blood test and that he better leave her alone. He does, but she doubts he believes her about the test. Just the mention of HIV seems to have soured him for awhile.
As she fills the pretzel and peanut bowls, Babe reminds herself not to flinch tonight when a customer pats her butt or touches her arm while she sets his drink down in front of him. It's bad for tips, and if Kirk found out, he'd tell her to get out. Flinching is very unprofessional. She hasn't had a problem with it since her very first few months as a waitress, eons ago. So Babe is shocked that her body's been betraying her on and off lately. She needs it to stop.
When the door to the bar opens, Babe doesn't even notice it or turn from her pretzel bowls to see who could be entering a full hour before the Klub opens. She should be thinking how it couldn't be Kirk since he's in the back--she makes a point of keeping track of his whereabouts at all times. She should be remembering about how none of the other girls is due on until six. Maybe if Babe didn't have her back to the door, she wouldn't have to experience the unpleasantness of Ted's hands circling her waist or the sound of him humming "Girls and Dolls," a favorite song of his, in her ear. As it is, her body violently jerks forward and away from him, her arms shooting out in front of her, capsizing the already wobbly table and the several snack bowls she had set there.
"Jesus, Ted!" she hollers when she regains herself and realizes who it is. "What the hell are you doing? Look what you've done. Jesus!"
"Babe, l just couldn't resist. Can't ever resist a woman's backside turned towards me."
"Get out, Ted. I'm working. How did you know I was here? Never mind. Just get out."
"I have my informants. And I did a little legwork to find you. I knew you'd be working in a bar somewhere. Nice place," Ted remarks as he surveys Kirk's Klub. "Is that oak?" he asks, indicating the top of the bar.
"Look, l have to work. We're closed. Why don't you find some place to peddle your wares? Maybe there will be an accident up on Main. There are always ambulances going by." Babe begins to collect the bowls and pushes the spilled snacks into a heap on the floor.
"Hey, lay off the p.i. jokes, OK? It's been good to me--l sure as hell make more at it than you ever will serving booze to pathetic old men with ugly wives," Ted retorts while watching her crouched on the floor scooping her pile into the bowls.
"Yeah, l know you love your work. What, with all the fringe benefits your accident victims leave behind for you in unmarked bottles."
"Get off it, Babe. You know I'm not taking anything anymore. I told all my clients not to bring their unused pills by anymore when I got out of rehab two months ago."
"Yeah, l remember that line from before we were married." Babe stands up, bowls in hands. "Thanks for the help, Ted. You've always been such a gentleman."
"Who's the fat guy?" Ted asks, nodding at Kirk, who is heading out of the kitchen and towards them.
"My boss." She heads for the kitchen with the bowls of recollected pretzels and peanuts to refill them with a fresh batch.
"Where are you going with those? And who's the guy in the suit?" Kirk looks Ted over.
Before Babe can answer, Ted moves towards Kirk with his outstretched hand leading and says, "Well, hello there. You must be Kirk. I'm Ted Sugar, an old friend of Elaine's."
"Who's Elaine?" Kirk glances at Ted's hand but doesn't shake it.
Babe is relieved Ted hasn't said "former husband" and answers before he can. "He means me, Kirk."
"In fact, Kirk, she was just about to tell me why she's moved to Macnamera. She used to live in Philly. Did you know that?"
"Nope. Don't really care. Babe, get those out on the tables already."
"They fell on the floor, Kirk. I'm getting new ones."
"No you're not, sweetheart. I don't care where they've been; put 'em out on the tables. I'm not going let you open a new bag every time you fuck up. Go."
Ted has listened closely to this exchange, and now he follows Babe around as she sets the bowls on various tables. "Treats you like a dog, huh?" he says to her back.
"It's a job. And I have to keep it, so get out. I have work to do."
"Just tell me one thing, and I'll go. Why did you come back? It was for me, wasn't it? You're sorry you left me."
"Nope. I doubt I'll ever be sorry about that. I came back because Jessie asked me to, if you've gotta know. She needs help with the Parrot, and she didn't want to ask Dad. Now get away from me. You shouldn't even know I'm here."
"Jessie told me you'd moved back because she wants us to get back together. She said I'm good for you." Babe doesn't respond to this. She can't decide who's Iying. Instead she begins to set up the music. "Well I am you know. You didn't have to work when you were with me or let men paw you all night long." Babe doesn't answer, but the words "Like I did when I was with you" come into her mind. "Elaine, you know you need to be with me again. It's your only option. Either that or just get old and wrinkled waiting tables." He tries again to get a response from her, but she's done talking to Ted. She's quite done. Ted is angry now and yelling at her back, "Do you really think anyone wants you anymore, you old hag? Do you? Do you?" He continues to yell, battling to raise his voice above the music that Babe is trying to adjust.

Jessie is thrilled to see her sister's head, then neck, shoulders, body, and legs appear as Babe comes up the stairs that lead to the Blue Parrot.
"Hi, Elaine! Do you want some coffee?" she asks brightly, trying to pretend she doesn't notice the look on Babe's face.
"No. Sit down. Why did you tell Ted that I am in town?"
"Oh, Elaine. I'm sorry. Don'tbe mad. I'm reallysorry. Butwhyareyousomean to him? He's cute."
"Because he's an idiot and a user. Why do you always do the things I tell you not to?"
Jessie hangs her head. "Please don't be mad, puss. I'm so dumb." Babe hands her younger sister a tissue. Jessie knows Babe has guessed that her eyes have welled up by now. When Jessie looks up, she sees through her blurry eyes that her big sister has indeed forgiven her once again. "Elaine, why don't you like Ted? I wish I had someone who liked me. I'll never get married."
"Stop it, Jess. We've been through this before. Give me yesterday's receipts."
"I'm not kidding, Elaine. I can't find someone to marry by myself. Please help me. Hook me up with one of the men you meet at your job. Some of them must be single." Jessie looks at her sister pleadingly.
"No, Jess. You don't want to be with them."
"Yes I do. Please, Elaine. Help me."
Babe tells her sister that she better not start crying again and that she'll try to keep her eyes open for her. Jessie breaks into a glorious smile in spite of the fact that she sees the muscles of her sister's jaw are taut.

The Battery-Acid Babe has a plan. And she's not going to let any more words out today. She feels she's already leaking out all her energy through the holes left all over her body from all the missing chunks of her flesh that people have torn away. She's concerned her plan may escape out the holes she already has. She doesn't want to let anything else out of her that she doesn't absolutely have to. She hasn't even allowed herself to urinate all morning.
Her first stop is a hardware store, where she buys a hammer, four nails, some clothesline, and a three-foot long two-by-four. At the five-and-dime she purchases a battery-operated electric razor. With the rest of the week's tip money, she fills up her car's tank, gets the oil changed, buys a week's groceries, and gets her hair done. On a whim she spends $25 to get a manicure. She's done by noon.
At 1 :30, after a light lunch at the cafe around the corner and some quick warm up swings of the two-by-four in the spacious bathroom of the cafe, the Battery-Acid Babe enters Kirk's Klub. She's not due to work until 3:00, but she knows he's in the back, probably watching TV. In fact, the TV is on when she slips into the kitchen without her shoes. Over its noise Kirk does not seem to hear her slink up behind him or hoist the board to shoulder height. Babe enjoys the feeling of the muscles in her arms taut and working in harmony as she swings the board and the satisfying thud it makes as it connects with the side of his head. The tingling sensation in her hands from the board's impact makes her smile. Kirk's body seems to melt into his Lay-Z Boy.
It doesn't take her long to strip her boss down to his boxers and tie his wrists and ankles with the clothesline, a good, strong cord. She's fashioned him on the floor with his arms and legs "spread eagle." To secure him to the floor, Babe ties the clothesline at his limbs to the four nails she's driven into his hardwood floor.
While she's shaving him with her newly purchased razor, she has to stop every few minutes to empty out the razor's trap. Kirk has a lot of hair, and she doesn't want the razor to overheat. It's buzz doesn't wake Kirk, but towards the end of the half-hour it takes to shave his legs, arms, shoulders, stomach, chest, and armpits, Kirk seems to be stirring from his slumber. Babe regrets that she won't have time to shave his back also, as she had planned. But she knows it would take much too much time. Instead, she gathers her things, all except for the razor, which she leaves behind with a note that reads "You forget to shave? Don't let it happen again."
Although she had planned to stop and say goodbye to Jessie, the Battery-Acid Babe passes the street that would have taken her towards the Blue Parrot and heads directly for the Interstate. She knows that once she's in Canada and unavailable, Ted will probably give up on reconstructing his former life, marry Jessie, and take care of her for eternity. And won't that make them both happy?

Deborah Owen Moore

is currently carrying on in Louisiana. Her poetry and translations have appeared in The Literary Review, Abiko Quarterly, xib, and Apprise. This is her first piece of published fiction.


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