Wayne (Part One)
Re: Who is with Taylor Sirard?
During my time in Bay Saint Louis, I got to know many an interesting character. Below is the account of one of those characters. If you haven't read about my time in Mississippi yet, I recommend checking that backstory out first.
I didn't like Wayne the first time I met him. I came into work and there was an unfamiliar man in the kitchen talking to the chef, Sonny. After chatting for a while, he took a seat at the table nearest the counter. Nobody explained to me why he was there. He didn't talk much to me, just sipped on a glass of sweet tea. I couldn't tell if he was watching me on purpose or by default because he was facing me.
I only learned who Wayne was and why he was three days later. Wayne was the Uncle of Paula, my supervisor. He was considering partnering with Sonny in the business so he was there to observe, an explanation that would have eliminated the awkwardness I sensed in our first meeting.
The next couple of times Wayne visited the restaurant he was still quiet. I noted his character as reserved, and intended to think no more on the topic.
One Sunday I received a text message from Paula, "Hey if u can drive to my uncle's house he said he'll pay u to help me clean his flower beds." I thought it would be a good excuse to get outside and I headed to the address Paula sent me.
I pulled into the driveway, gravel I was instructed to drive slowly over, through a large metal gate and past at least eight acres of pristinely kept lawn. A large brick home sat at the end of the driveway in front of another acre of neat grass.
Wayne showed me where to park, offering a modest greeting before he resumed leaf-blowing debris off of the cement. From around the corner of the house, Paula came to greet me. After asking if I wanted something to drink, she took me inside. There were no shoes by the door, no jackets hung in the entryway, and the kitchen counters were completely bare with the exception of a small jar of chocolates, mostly Baby Ruth's. "Let me give you a tour," she offered as she finished pouring my glass of tea.
Each expansive room we walked through was fully furnished and impeccably tidy. Paula informed me that the HomeGoods decor she picked out was only added at her insistence. She brought me into every room and not one held any indication of a resident: no blankets with layers of organic folds, no scent distinguished any rooms or objects, no slippers parked near beds or entryways, no abandoned writing utensils or half-drank cups of water. The only human trace I witnessed was a full walk-in closet. Paula brought me in to show me the precise organization. Clothes were separated by type, ordered by color, and between each hanger was an even space of two inches.
The orderliness was slightly bizarre, but I was impressed. Wayne seemed to have escaped the common hoarding habits of consumerist culture, even with his obvious access to space and wealth. My minimalist brain was inspired by the emptiness held by most of the house, even though it wasn't in true minimalist form.
Paula and I went outside to pluck at the landscaping where green had turned brown and brittle. She talked about her family and told me that Wayne took financial care of her daughter, a college student. "Wayne's my cool uncle," she shared as she lit a smoke. He didn't object to us smoking but refused to partake when Paula offered.
The sun was setting and the gnats were a thin fog. Every thirty seconds was punctured with a bite, so we decided to retreat indoors. Wayne treated us both to dinner at Yun Long Buffet. The conversation was sparse and left little room for me to note any traits yet unknown of Wayne's character. With the day's house tour and conversation, I had assessed reserved, diligent, and generous as his basic constitution. I still hadn't decided if his withdrawn demeanor was unnerving to me, or if the rigid order of his home added to that.
[WE NOW INTERRUPT THIS BLOG POST FOR AN EGO-SAVING MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR: As much as I believe there is love at the core of every human, I try to determine how I feel while with those I don't know well. This is not an attempt to place them in a category of "good person" or bad "person," rather an evaluation of my safety and well being in relationship to them.]
Wayne began to visit the restaurant more frequently, oftentimes to help out when we were busy on the weekends. Sometimes he would run to the store for Sonny, but most often he would help me pick up the dining room while we closed. Being the only server, I was grateful for his contribution. After helping he would still try to pay for his meal, which Paula rarely allowed.
When I put in my two-weeks resignation notice, Paula lamented over my departure. Maintaining the restaurant would be near impossible with only two employees. We joked that they would have to hire Wayne to replace me. I told Wayne I could train him, to which he scoffed.
My last night at the restaurant was on a Saturday. Wayne came with two bottles of wine. Paula poured us all a glass towards the end of the evening. As usual at the week's end, she and Sonny had been fighting, but she was determined to celebrate the occasion. Wayne became more talkative than usual after his second glass. We raised eyebrows at each other when the drama between Paula and Sonny spiked up.
I picked up a bill book that had somehow made it to Wayne's table after his free meal. Inside was an incredibly generous tip and a note which read, "If you need anything call," above a phone number. I was equally touched and shocked; it was too much to accept. I tried giving him the money back, but he persistently refused.
I had been staying with Sonny and Paula for the past two nights, and she said they were going to do something special for me that night. I gathered this meant inviting Wayne over and drinking wine by the fireplace.
With the tension at the restaurant that night, Sonny didn't offer me the samplings of food I was used to. Wayne bought me a Taco Bell dinner on our way to Sonny's. We managed enough conversation for the twenty-minute drive there. I was surprised.
By the time we arrived the discord between the couple became too intense. Paula asked if I could stay at Wayne's so they could hash it out in privacy. So, I prepped Bernie for the road and followed Wayne back to his house.
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During my time in Bay Saint Louis, I got to know many an interesting character. Below is the account of one of those characters. If you haven't read about my time in Mississippi yet, I recommend checking that backstory out first.
---
I only learned who Wayne was and why he was three days later. Wayne was the Uncle of Paula, my supervisor. He was considering partnering with Sonny in the business so he was there to observe, an explanation that would have eliminated the awkwardness I sensed in our first meeting.
The next couple of times Wayne visited the restaurant he was still quiet. I noted his character as reserved, and intended to think no more on the topic.
---
One Sunday I received a text message from Paula, "Hey if u can drive to my uncle's house he said he'll pay u to help me clean his flower beds." I thought it would be a good excuse to get outside and I headed to the address Paula sent me.
I pulled into the driveway, gravel I was instructed to drive slowly over, through a large metal gate and past at least eight acres of pristinely kept lawn. A large brick home sat at the end of the driveway in front of another acre of neat grass.
Wayne showed me where to park, offering a modest greeting before he resumed leaf-blowing debris off of the cement. From around the corner of the house, Paula came to greet me. After asking if I wanted something to drink, she took me inside. There were no shoes by the door, no jackets hung in the entryway, and the kitchen counters were completely bare with the exception of a small jar of chocolates, mostly Baby Ruth's. "Let me give you a tour," she offered as she finished pouring my glass of tea.
Each expansive room we walked through was fully furnished and impeccably tidy. Paula informed me that the HomeGoods decor she picked out was only added at her insistence. She brought me into every room and not one held any indication of a resident: no blankets with layers of organic folds, no scent distinguished any rooms or objects, no slippers parked near beds or entryways, no abandoned writing utensils or half-drank cups of water. The only human trace I witnessed was a full walk-in closet. Paula brought me in to show me the precise organization. Clothes were separated by type, ordered by color, and between each hanger was an even space of two inches.
The orderliness was slightly bizarre, but I was impressed. Wayne seemed to have escaped the common hoarding habits of consumerist culture, even with his obvious access to space and wealth. My minimalist brain was inspired by the emptiness held by most of the house, even though it wasn't in true minimalist form.
Paula and I went outside to pluck at the landscaping where green had turned brown and brittle. She talked about her family and told me that Wayne took financial care of her daughter, a college student. "Wayne's my cool uncle," she shared as she lit a smoke. He didn't object to us smoking but refused to partake when Paula offered.
The sun was setting and the gnats were a thin fog. Every thirty seconds was punctured with a bite, so we decided to retreat indoors. Wayne treated us both to dinner at Yun Long Buffet. The conversation was sparse and left little room for me to note any traits yet unknown of Wayne's character. With the day's house tour and conversation, I had assessed reserved, diligent, and generous as his basic constitution. I still hadn't decided if his withdrawn demeanor was unnerving to me, or if the rigid order of his home added to that.
[WE NOW INTERRUPT THIS BLOG POST FOR AN EGO-SAVING MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR: As much as I believe there is love at the core of every human, I try to determine how I feel while with those I don't know well. This is not an attempt to place them in a category of "good person" or bad "person," rather an evaluation of my safety and well being in relationship to them.]
---
Wayne began to visit the restaurant more frequently, oftentimes to help out when we were busy on the weekends. Sometimes he would run to the store for Sonny, but most often he would help me pick up the dining room while we closed. Being the only server, I was grateful for his contribution. After helping he would still try to pay for his meal, which Paula rarely allowed.
When I put in my two-weeks resignation notice, Paula lamented over my departure. Maintaining the restaurant would be near impossible with only two employees. We joked that they would have to hire Wayne to replace me. I told Wayne I could train him, to which he scoffed.
---
My last night at the restaurant was on a Saturday. Wayne came with two bottles of wine. Paula poured us all a glass towards the end of the evening. As usual at the week's end, she and Sonny had been fighting, but she was determined to celebrate the occasion. Wayne became more talkative than usual after his second glass. We raised eyebrows at each other when the drama between Paula and Sonny spiked up.
I picked up a bill book that had somehow made it to Wayne's table after his free meal. Inside was an incredibly generous tip and a note which read, "If you need anything call," above a phone number. I was equally touched and shocked; it was too much to accept. I tried giving him the money back, but he persistently refused.
I had been staying with Sonny and Paula for the past two nights, and she said they were going to do something special for me that night. I gathered this meant inviting Wayne over and drinking wine by the fireplace.
With the tension at the restaurant that night, Sonny didn't offer me the samplings of food I was used to. Wayne bought me a Taco Bell dinner on our way to Sonny's. We managed enough conversation for the twenty-minute drive there. I was surprised.
By the time we arrived the discord between the couple became too intense. Paula asked if I could stay at Wayne's so they could hash it out in privacy. So, I prepped Bernie for the road and followed Wayne back to his house.
---
Hold on to your skivvies, part two coming soon!
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