Skinny Dipping Season by Cynthia Tennent

Grandma Dory was that I was allowed to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted—as long as I let Grandma Dory talk to her friends without interruption. Therefore, I had many milkshakes for breakfast at that counter. Grandma used to laugh and call it “backwards day” when I did that.
    I sat down on a stool by the cash register and let a sense of well-being sink in. I had to suppress an urge to spin. Propped against the counter stood an older woman who stared at the TV in the corner. She wore a gray-collared shirt with Cookee’s written on the left side of her chest. Her bleached-blond short hair didn’t quite match her darkly penciled-in eyebrows and weathered face.
    â€œCan I help you?” said the lady as a commercial came on.
    â€œDo you have a menu?” I asked, noting the old Hamilton Beach mixer against the back wall.
    â€œYeah, I know I have one around here somewhere, but mostly Mac, the cook, fixes regular meals. You want something, he can make it, unless it’s something fancy like them quiche or linguine-type dishes.”
    I wasn’t sure if I was being teased or not. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t stop smiling.
    â€œThe hash browns are great for a hangover, I hear.”
    And just like that, my bubble of joy popped.
    Life was truly unfair sometimes! Of all the people to run into twice in one morning, why did it have to be him? I had been so distracted by my walk down memory lane that I had missed Officer Hardy sitting in the shadow at the end of the counter.
    â€œYou probably wouldn’t know what a hangover feels like,” I said.
    One of the men at the booth started laughing. “Party Hardy? Is she kidding?”
    Officer Hardy reached up to readjust his collar, and I noticed a flush of red creeping up his cheek. “I’ll forget last night if you think before you cover for someone again,” he said in a low voice.
    I corrected him, “Officer Hardy—what happened earlier was a simple misunderstanding—”
    â€œIs that what you call it? Before you apologize, let’s at least get the story straight.”
    â€œExcuse me, you must be under a misconception.” I turned toward him and was relieved to see my professional-spokesperson face reflected in his sunglasses. Hooded eyes. Professional smile. The facade I had thought I wouldn’t need again had slipped into place. “I never intended to apologize.”
    â€œDon’t you realize that you just made things worse for that girl?”
    â€œReally? You think it would have been better for her in jail? Another notch on your badge?” I looked away from my reflection and straightened my hair. “You have no interest in helping someone like her. You just wanted to scare her.” The lady behind the counter frowned and grabbed a dirty plate before heading toward the back.
    â€œMore like warn her. Some kids shoplift for fun the way other kids play arcade games. If we catch them, we can notify their parents and get the family help before they commit a bigger crime. Catching that young lady is actually the only thing we can do to help her. Better now than when she does something a lot worse than steal a few magazines.”
    My hand wandered to the small pot that held sugar packets. My brother came to mind. From the moment I was arrested I had protected him. Doubt surfaced. But I forced it back and shook my head. Looking down, I realized that I had just reorganized the sugar packets. Officer Hardy noticed too. He gave me a funny look.
    I pushed the sugar away and shrugged my shoulders. “You could have handled the situation differently. Or maybe, you could explain the whole thing before getting all high and mighty. You turned on me like I was some sort of criminal too.”
    â€œAs far as I was concerned, you were a criminal. You were aiding and abetting—not to mention putting yourself in the middle of something you knew nothing about. Listen closely,