12
“SO I STARTED out as a waitress,” she said. She crossed her legs at the ankles, stretched them out in front of her and leaned back against the back of the sofa. “But I had hopes of becoming the hostess, and I acted as if I was already being groomed for the job. Actually, I was being groomed for the job; I was doing the grooming. I watched Renée work, trying to find the key to her style, and an amazing thing happened. The first night that the restaurant was actually in operation—well, not exactly actually in operation—since we weren’t serving real, actual, honest-to-goodness people, not the kind of people we learned to call civilians. We were putting on a show for the backers and the people from the home office of the Norton motel chain, and their friends and friends of their friends. It was a rehearsal, not the real thing. But we were all nervous, and in the locker room it was like being backstage. It’s funny how you make a connection like that, but we all did. We were all nervous and giggly and somebody said it was like being in a play, and I found myself trying to remember my lines from the senior class play. But I didn’t forget to do what I figured Renée would do in my place, so I went around to all the girls, offering them encouraging words or complimenting them on how good they looked. I was giving a better performance as Renée than she did herself. Finally we all lined up so that Renée could inspect us, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. She was transformed. She looked as if—as if—well, here’s what it was—she made the whole place look different. Suddenly it seemed as if nobody I knew could afford to eat there. She was wearing a beautiful dress—simple, flowing, very glamorous. You looked at her and thought about soft breezes scented with tropical flowers, soft music, interesting dinner conversation, all of that. Her glasses were gone. The orange lipstick was gone. She was composed, controlled, understated, and yet she was—inviting. And she wasn’t herself at all, as far as I could tell. She was in costume. She was playing a part. She could have been another person. She was not at all the woman who showed me the ropes and told me to watch her and do as she did. But of course that was what I was supposed to notice, and what I was supposed to learn. This onstage behavior, this acting, this role-playing. It was part of the job, I saw, part of the way to get ahead.
“From that moment I watched her more carefully than ever—oh, how carefully I watched her. I expected that woman to move on to even better things. She didn’t look like the sort of person who would be stuck for long in Babbington. She’d be on her way someday, and I wanted to have her routine down when she decided to go. I wanted to be ready, like an understudy ready for the big break, when the star falls ill and she gets the call.”
[to be continued]
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