The kitchen was in a rundown district. It looked like it had been some kind of manufacturing center at one time. The kitchen itself was a three-story brown-bricked building with large windows, mostly boarded. There was a large sign above a double set of doors that said ‘City Kitchen.’ One of the doors was propped open, but a line had already begun to form just before the two steps that led to the doors. There was no indication why we couldn’t just go inside.
“Can’t go in until ‘Sugar Magnolia,’” Houser said as we got in line behind an old woman. “Maggie, this here is Frank.” When Maggie turned, her face revealed deep wrinkles reminiscent of elephant skin. She smiled, nodded, and turned to face the line again. I said “Hi,” but I don’t think she heard it. She was humming to herself and it wasn’t offensive, almost like she could carry a tune.
“’Sugar Magnolia?’” I asked.
“You’ll see,” Houser smiled. I waited with everyone else as the line got longer. I let Houser have his fun. I’d learned in those four days not to get anxious about anything. Patience was a way of life on the streets. It was part of the cost of freedom.
Houser seemed to know most of the people in line. A week ago, I would have never thought of them as people at all. It’s strange how jumping off a bridge changes your perspective. Not all of the people looked like they hadn’t showered for a week, and I was surprised at the number of kids in line. There was one mother trying to reign in three young boys who seemed very comfortable with the whole process.
The civility in the line was the most surprising aspect. No one seemed to mind the wait and there wasn’t any attempt to cut in or form a new line. I was expecting more of a herd mentality instead of the practiced order being displayed. It went against everything Houser stood for.
“It’s so...orderly,” I said. I almost gave it a questioning tone.
“Sadie don’t put up with no shit,” Houser replied. Maggie stopped humming and turned around.
“You cause trouble, you don’t eat,” Maggie said accusingly. She raised her finger and pointed at me with a scowl. I smiled at her, trying to prove I was a good person and deserved to eat. She turned back around and continued her humming. Sadie must be a beast of a woman to invoke such discipline in everyone. I imagined her at three hundred pounds swinging a rolling pin with deadly force. I didn’t intend to cause any trouble, so I wasn’t too worried.
I heard an electric pop followed by a hiss of speakers firing up. “Four o’clock, here we go,” Houser said patting me on the back. The line started moving forward just before the music started. The song “Sugar Magnolia” wafted through the open door. I realized that was the tune Maggie had been humming the whole time. Everyone moved forward calmly; there was no pushing or arguing. I have seen ruder people entering high-priced theatrical productions. Maybe Sadie packed an Uzi.
The line moved forward slowly, but steadily. I patiently waited my turn to head in. I smelled chili as I neared the door and my stomach growled. I was hungrier than I thought. I know I hadn’t eaten well in the last four days, but it really didn’t bother me until that wonderful smell hit my nose. Inside the door, the line continued down a short hall and took a turn to the right. The music was more pronounced inside and Maggie was bouncing to the beat. Maybe she was a deadhead from way back.
I turned the corner just as the song ended. The din of plastic trays and plates replaced the music. There was a stainless steel cafeteria line ahead, manned by people who looked like they would fit comfortably in the line. The first station was being handled by a large woman wearing a white apron over mismatched pants and shirt. Her hair, black with streaks of gray, was pulled back and covered in a white scarf. She was filling bowls with chili and handing them over the sneeze guard with a smile that was missing a few teeth. I assumed she was Sadie. She was definitely imposing enough.
“I haven’t seen you before,” a female voice to my right said as I entered the dining room. The room held a good twenty long tables with metal-tubed plastic folding chairs. My eyes followed the voice to a woman dressed in a flowing red flowery skirt. Her dusty brown hair was long down her back, held in place by the same white scarf the chili lady was wearing.
“No, I guess I’m new,” I replied, a little lost for words. I wasn’t expecting to be greeted. The woman’s eyes crinkled when she smiled. She was petite, at least a hand shorter than I. Her cream-colored blouse was practical, but sharply ironed. She stood with both hands clasped behind her back. She looked completely out of place – for one thing, she had all her teeth.
“Sadie, this is Frank,” Houser chimed in from behind me, “he’s the one I told you about.” Sadie didn’t look anything like I expected. She was maybe in her mid-thirties and not physically imposing at all.
“Welcome, Frank,” Sadie said, and used her hand to direct me toward the cafeteria line. A small gap in the line was created when she greeted me and I think she was intent on seeing it closed. Something about her manner made me hustle to fill the gap. “You owe me five days, Houser,” Sadie called as we moved toward the chili.
“Five days?” I asked Houser for clarification.
“Yeah, I gots to work the line,” Houser said, nodding to the buffet line, “if you eat a lot, you owes days to Sadie.” He smiled as he picked up a tray off the stack. “It ain’t bad work, it’s just she makes you clean up, you know, before you touch the food and stuff.” Houser obviously cherished his grime. He wasn’t quite as free as he claimed.
“Cheese?” the large chili lady asked.
“Sure,” I answered, and she dropped a tong full of shredded cheddar on top of my plastic bowl of chili. She made an effort to smile as she handed me the bowl. I found myself smiling back and saying “thank you.” I moved to the next station, and a tall, gangly guy with the same apron and scarf handed me a small bowl of fresh broccoli and carrots in some kind of oily sauce. He also smiled and warranted a “thank you.” The whole process was extremely civil, and the service was pleasant. I looked back at Sadie as she greeted everyone entering. You have to admire someone who can organize the unorganized.
“Brownies!” Houser said excitedly. I saw his eyes light up as he exposed his bad teeth. An older woman was serving them at the end of the line. Same apron, same scarf, and the same smile. With our trays loaded, Houser and I found a seat at one of the tables.
“Does Sadie run this all by herself?” I asked as we began to dig in.
“Yep, it’s her kitchen,” Houser answered with a mouth full of chili. I saw him eying my brownie. He wasn’t trying to be overly obvious, but he wasn’t hiding it either. I smiled and moved my brownie to his tray.
“I owe you,” I said. Houser nodded his head as he stuffed another spoonful of chili into his mouth. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be getting dessert for a while. It didn’t really bother me; anyone who could help me forget was worth his weight in dessert.
We ate in the relatively quiet atmosphere of the cafeteria. There was talking, but it was all subdued and very cordial. Not what I expected at all. Houser informed me Sadie wouldn’t allow raucous behavior in her cafeteria. I looked back at Sadie and wondered how she could possibly stop a ruckus if it did start. Everyone just seemed to accept her iron rule here.
I was watching Houser enjoy his brownies at the end of the meal. Enjoying was an understatement. He was in ecstasy. He savored every bite, and his eyes glossed over. His joys were simple, but this was clearly one of his favorites.
“So what are you doing here, Frank?” Sadie had sat down next to us without me noticing. I jumped a bit in surprise. I figured I would stick with the lie I started with.
“Financial