Chapter 9 Past
It was Monday—my first day at the soda shop.
My uniform was a buttercup-yellow button-down dress, complete with a white apron trimmed in lace.
I got to wear my Keds, as opposed to those uncomfortable saddle shoes—and thankfully, they didn’t give me one of those little hats.
Just in case they got any ideas, I made sure my ponytail was neat and tidy.
Mom hollered from downstairs, “Bristol Anne Thompson, you don’t want to be late on your first day!”
She asked if she could drive me. Said she wanted to mark the occasion. Truth was, I think she was just sad to see her little girl growing up.
She was already waiting in the car when I walked out, and I could see a big smile grow across her lips when she saw me in my uniform.
As I got in, she couldn’t help herself: “Look how grown up you are…”
I swear I saw tears start to well in her eyes, but she managed to pull it together as we pulled out of the driveway.
Mom couldn’t stand silence in the car, so she broke it almost immediately.
“I remember my first job. I was a candy striper at the hospital,” she said.
She went on about her red-and-white uniform and how much she loved wearing those little hats—that’s where we differ.
She kept the stories going the whole way, and before I knew it, we were already turning onto Founder’s Court.
I felt somewhat nervous as we pulled up to the front of the building.
The Fizz and Pop was one of Shay’s newest additions, and it stood out.
Wedged between the drive-in theater and just down the road from the community pool, it was impossible to miss.
A bright pink awning, shiny chrome trim, and a clean, modern shape made it pop against the town’s usual backdrop of white brick and columns.
Outside, brightly colored tables were scattered around, practically begging for a crowd.
And where there’s a crowd, there’s gossip.
Inside, the place was small—three, maybe four tables at most, a perfect place for young couples to cozy up together.
The walls were a soft, almost salmon pink, and the chairs were this retro mint green that somehow worked.
The black-and-white checkered floor stood out under the fluorescent lights, giving it that classic soda shop feel.
But the real star was the jukebox, playing through outdoor speakers, its music drifting through the streets of Shay like a slow-rolling fog after a storm.
It wasn’t official or anything, but if you were a teen in Shay, this was the place to be on a Friday night—especially during a hot Alabama summer.
Mondays? Well, they weren’t quite as exciting as Friday nights. My first day was off to a slow start; by midday, most folks were working or cooling off on the lake.
From the moment I stepped out of the car and into the shop, I’d only seen one other person—Taylor Stoll, Molly’s cousin. He’d worked at the soda shop since it opened, and today he was in charge of training me. He’d graduated last year and was now studying business at the local community college.
He didn’t get the signature Stoll red hair, but every once in a while, when the sun came through the windows just right, you could see a faint hint of it in his short brown hair.
Not that he let it show much—he kept it mostly hidden under one of those paper hats.
He offered me one, and I kindly declined.
He was tall but hadn’t quite filled out—long and lanky was the best way to describe him. He had a slight stutter when he tried to explain how to make milkshakes and malts—I wasn’t sure if he always stuttered or if he was just nervous—but he managed to train me all the same.
I figured I’d use the downtime to learn the so-called “tricks of the trade,” but let’s be honest—how hard could it be to scoop ice cream and pour pop over the top? I might’ve inherited my dad’s brain, but this wasn’t exactly rocket science.
Things picked up a little around three—the younger kids got out of their swim lessons and needed to be rewarded for their hard work.
After the rush, I helped Taylor refill the sprinkles and clean the scoops.
While he was gone on his break, I thumbed through a stack of outdated magazines that looked like they’d been sitting there since last summer.
When Taylor got back, he showed me how to run the register and restock supplies.
By the end of my shift, I was a pro at slinging scoops, pouring pop, and had mastered the wrist technique to make the sprinkles fall just so—
Though the register might take a few more tries.
It was a little past five when I walked out front. Mom was supposed to pick me up, so I waited by the curb, scanning the road.
The wait was short-lived.
Dad’s red Chevy Impala was already parked off to the side.
I had barely opened the door when he started in: “Mom wasn’t feeling well—she needed to lie down.”
I guess he could tell I wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him—or maybe he just felt the need to say her excuse out loud, like saying it made it true.
But we both knew the real reason: she’d taken too many pills again and couldn’t drive.
My mom’s little habit had taken its toll on her—but now I was the one dealing with the side effects.
I’d give anything not to be in this car right now. Honestly, I’d rather walk the five miles home.
Funny how much can change in a year—but I guess secrets and lies don’t care about timing.
This could be the moment to bring it all up—all the things we don’t talk about. But even with how slow my shift was, I’m too tired to even try.
Dad sounded like he was about to say something, but I turned on the radio instead—there aren’t enough miles in this town to get through it all before we pull into the driveway.
As the miles stretched on I tried to hum along to the songs—even the music couldn’t drown out the silence of everything we weren’t saying.
Tension spilled out into the air as I opened the door—I’m not even sure Dad had put the car in park, but I couldn’t get out fast enough.
When I rushed inside the house, Mom was “resting” on the couch.
I made a beeline to my room, doing my best to avoid giving Dad even a moment to start “that” conversation.
From that point on, I decided to take my bike to work for the rest of the week. I knew it was a long ride, but I couldn’t risk another awkward moment with my dad.
I took advantage of the quiet and let my mind wander, thinking about what Molly and I could get into on my day off.
Maybe we’d head to the Truss Bridge. I’ve always wanted to jump off the very top—maybe I’d be brave enough now, since this was the summer I planned to claim as my own.
Or maybe we’d go with the safer option and just catch a matinee—I think The Sound of Music is playing.
…
I didn’t rush to get to work. I didn’t want to show up dripping with sweat.
When I got to the parking lot of the brightly colored soda shop, I walked my bike around the side and headed in.
The blast of cool air and sweet cream hits me as soon as I step inside—a welcome treat.
Today’s shift was just as exciting as Monday—slow and boring. I managed to find a few songs on the jukebox, and listening to them helped pass the time.
After only a handful of customers, Taylor sent me home early.
I didn’t take the trip back as slow as I had on the way to work, so by the time I made it to the front porch, I was drenched in sweat.
I went straight to the shower, then got on the phone with Molly. Thankfully, the party line on her end was clear.
Unlike the private lines we had in Maryland, most of the families in Shay, like the Stolls, shared a phone line with a few of their neighbors.
I am not sure if you can call it a party or not, because there was nothing worse than having to ask Mrs. Betty if it was okay to use the line—Molly was usually met with a barrage of questions to determine whether it was really an emergency.
Of course, overhearing Mrs. Betty talk about her husband’s stomach issues probably beat having to ask her to hang up.
I might not have known much about the South—yet—but it didn’t take long to figure out the party line was the heartbeat of Shay’s gossip. Instead of hanging up when you heard someone talking, you just stayed quiet and became a silent part of the conversation.
…
Molly and I stayed on the phone for a few hours—as usual, she did most of the talking.
Most of the conversation was about her new beau.
She and Chad had made it official. I was genuinely happy for her—he was her first real boyfriend—and honestly, I was glad she had something to do while I was at work.
Not that Molly was ever the waiting around type.
Somewhere between stories about sneaking out to see him and nearly getting caught taking his stepdad’s boat without permission, my mind started to drift.
I’d planned on spending the summer with a Stoll—guess I just coordinated with the wrong one.
Taylor Stoll’s nice—he makes a mean strawberry shake—but I’d much rather be the third wheel to Molly and Chad’s love story than spend the whole summer with him at the soda shop.
When Molly finally ran out of things to say about Chad, she turned the conversation back to me.
“I’m so ready for a day off tomorrow. I was thinking we could go to the truss bridge and—”
“Oh! I forgot!” she cut in. “I’m going to my aunt’s cabin in North Tennessee. We leave tomorrow, and I won’t be back ’til next week!”
I tried not to sound disappointed. “Oh… that’s cool. Have fun.”
But Molly saw right through me.
“I promise to make it up to you. When I get home, I’m calling you in sick, and we’re spending the whole day together. It’s gonna be the best!”
She could put a positive spin on anything—good or bad.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sounds like a plan.”
Just then, the line clicked. Someone had picked up.
There was a pause, then a familiar voice cut in. “Girls, it is late!”
We both groaned.
With a huff—and a roll of her eyes I could practically hear—Molly said, “Talk to you later, Bri. Enjoy your day off tomorrow.”
Then, in a noticeably less friendly tone, she added, “Good night, Mrs. Betty.”
…
I could have easily gone to the lake or spent my day in town, but it was honestly too hot to do much of anything. If it were up to me, I’d spend the whole day doing nothing but eating and lying around, but Mom hadn’t made it to the store yet, so I headed to the diner to grab some lunch.
I guess I could’ve taken the car, but I was still a little nervous behind the wheel. I probably should get some more practice in before I get my own car—but I took my bike instead.