Bethanyisms (Stranger From the Past)

The line was long, as it usually was at the Gandolfo’s Delicatessen on a weekend night. I, then 21, was stationed at the cash register and my boss, Mr. Gandolfo himself, was next to me working the potato salad scoop.

We had a pretty efficient system and the line was moving smoothly.

Until it wasn’t.

“Don’t I know you?” the handsome, scruffy customer asked. He had just ordered the South Hampton with bacon.

Hmmm. “I… don’t… think so?” I replied.

“No, I swear. You look very familiar to me. Do you go to UVSC?”

“Nope.”

The line of customers behind him began to grumble. My boss gave me the move-it-along-woman look so I gestured to the next customer. “Welcome to Gandolfo’s. What can I do for…”

“Now I remember!” the scruffy customer gave his finger a satisfied snap. “You’re that girl! You know, the one without a shirt!”

I felt the blood drain from my face because I knew exactly what he was talking about. All of the thirty customers in line fell silent and gaped at me.

“Bethany?” my boss asked, a concerned furl to his brow. As long as he’d known me, I had always seemed so innocent, so virtuous. And I absolutely was! How on earth was I going to explain myself out of this one?

Especially after what I said next...


(to be continued)