Chapter Text
Bake truly flaky pie crust until edges are golden brown. Add maple syrup into freshly whipped cream. Spread fresh blueberries on top of maple cream— No, scratch that. Mix fresh blueberries into whipped maple cream, putting some aside to spread on top. Add blueberry maple cream into pie crust and let set. Top the pie with fresh blueberries, maple syrup, and bits of crispy fried bacon.
Hm. Should there be more bacon? No, we don’t want to overpower the blueberries. The sprinkle of bacon bits should do the trick. But a bacon lattice could be nice. Though the bacon grease would ruin the pie—
A loud bang rips Carson’s attention away from her newest pie, immediately followed by Max and Lupe making their way into the kitchen.
“Carson, we gotta start opening, you all set in here?”
Carson briefly smiles at Max before turning her attention back to the blueberry maple cream she’d been whipping.
“Yeah, should be done in here in fifteen. You three need any help in there?”
“Nah, Shirley could probably do the job herself at this point,” Lupe jokes, grabbing her apron to wrap around her waist.
“She’d probably prefer it that way too. None of us to get in her way and throw her off her rhythm,” Max adds, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.
It’s at that moment that Shirley herself enters the kitchen with a sort of frantic energy. Though, Carson supposes, frantic may just be Shirley’s natural state of being. In the three years Shirley has worked at Bev’s Diner, Carson doesn’t think she’s ever seen that girl relax.
“We’re missing a mustard bottle! Have any of you seen it? We can’t just not have a fifth mustard bottle, guys, you know what I always say— The fuller the condiments—“
“ The fuller the experience ,” they all finish, having heard Shirley go on this same spiel at least twenty times before.
“I’ll help you find it, Shirl,” Max offers, patting Shirley’s shoulder on her way out to begin her search.
“Thank you, Max! Lupe, can you help me with the chairs?”
“Alright Shirley, be out in a minute,” she agrees.
“Wonderful! See you out there!”
And just as quickly as Shirley came in, she left.
“She makes me tired sometimes,” Lupe whispers to Carson, a smirk plastered across her face. “Get back to work Shaw, that pie won’t make itself.”
Carson, finally alone again, starts to let her mind wander as she breaks the bacon into bits small enough to sprinkle atop the pie.
As a kid, Carson had taken comfort in little routines. Every week, she and her mother would bake a pie together, one that they would bring to church choir practice. Carson would sit and listen to her mother sing along to the hymns, not quite caring about the meanings of the songs, but enjoying them nonetheless. And when the singing was finally done, she got to listen as all the adults complimented their pie, some even talking directly to Carson, telling her what a great job she’d done.
And then Carson’s mom left, and weekly choir practices were no longer relevant. It wasn’t as if Carson was going to join the choir— she couldn’t carry a tune if she’d tried. Regardless, every week, Carson would make a new pie— anything she thought her mother would like, just in case she decided to come back. There would always be a new pie waiting for her.
But the months passed, and the pies would spoil from sitting untouched on the kitchen counter. One pie after the other would get tossed into the trash, until Carson eventually stopped making them.
The routine stopped. It became nothing more than a reminder of what she’d lost. Of who she’d lost. She focused more of her energy on baseball, and on writing, and on anything that didn’t remind her of what was missing.
Now, though, she’s married and moved away. Now, she’s locked into a routine— one she needs to get by. There’s hardly time to think about what could be, about what she wants , when opening is at six and closing is at eight. When dinner needs to be on the table by ten, and she needs to be asleep before midnight or waking up the next morning will be hell.
So, no, she doesn’t thrive off of routine the way Shirley does. Not anymore. But she hasn’t really got any other choice.
She’s sliding the finished pie into its display case on the counter when Jess, their cook, finally shows up, shouting over to her.
“Shaw, what’s the special pie today?”
Head still in the clouds, Carson responds, “Deep Shit Blueberry Bacon,”
“Deep Shit?!” Shirley shouts from halfway across the diner.
“Uh— Dish! Deep Dish! Sorry, Shirl.”
“Come on, Carson,” Jess jokingly admonishes.
Carson rolls her eyes, fastening her apron around her waist and putting her notepad in the pocket.
The finish setting everything up, and at six on the dot, Shirley unlocks the front door while Max flips the sign on it around to say ‘Open.’
——————
The day continues on normally. The diner regulars order the same thing that they order every day. Carson is dropping an order over to Jess when Lupe comes rushing over.
“Sarge is in your section again, Carson. Might want to get on that before she gets moody.”
Sergeant Beverly was their number one regular. If you could even call her that, considering she owned the diner. Bev’s Diner opened up in 1945, after World War II ended— though it wasn’t called Bev’s at the time. The diner used to be called the Peach Pit Diner, and was formerly owned by three women who played in the AAGPBL’s Rockford Peaches— Dottie Hinson, Doris Murphy, and Mae Mordabito.
Carson isn’t quite sure how the diner fell into Sarge’s hands, or how the name change happened, but she knows the name change occurred in 1982 and that Sarge gained ownership of it in 1998. Long before any of it’s current employees got there. It’s the oldest diner in Rockford, and it maintains the 40s aesthetic— including a period accurate playlist— while remaining in good condition. It’s a good place to work.
Carson loves it here.
What she doesn’t love is when Sarge seats herself in Carson’s section. Which she does regularly. Over the last seven years, Carson has seemingly become her favorite, for whatever reason. Sarge isn’t bad— she tips well! But she never ceases to make the most specific requests in her orders, as well as offering the most blunt comments that border on being plain rude.
But she likes Carson best. Which is a rare phenomenon for Carson. So she’ll take one for the team and put up with Bev’s almost affectionate harshness.
“Thanks, Lu,” Carson says, heading over to where she sees Sarge sitting looking increasingly impatient. “Hey there Sarge, what can I get for you today?”
“It’s too damn warm in here, Mrs. Shaw, why is it always so warm?”
“I’ll let Jess know—“
“Please do inform McCready—“
“I’m gonna let them know, Sarge—“
“Now, get your little notepad out— I want a slice of that Deep Dish Blueberry Bacon pie with my scrambled eggs and toast. And I want a tomato on the side, on it’s own plate— Do not put it on the same plate, Mrs. Shaw, I want it on it’s own plate—“
“Tomato on it’s own plate, got it—“
“I’m not done,” Sarge interrupts, and Carson internally bangs her head against a wall. She feels her stomach twist painfully, and a tight feeling forms in her throat. “I also want a coffee, but don’t bring it first. I want water with the meal, and a coffee after. Got it?”
Carson nods, writing down the order even as she feels her single piece of toast from this morning attempting to make a reappearance.
Clearly she doesn’t hide her queasiness as well as she thinks, because Sarge eyes her warily before asking, “Am I making you sick, Mrs. Shaw?”
Carson lets out a forced chuckle, responding “No, sorry, I’m just a bit queasy today, if you’ll excuse me—“
She makes a beeline for the window to the kitchen, practically throwing the order slip to Jess, and carefully making her way over to the bathroom.
“Carson!” Max yells after her, “You okay?”
“I’m fine, too much coffee!”
“Avoiding it won’t make it go away, Shaw!” Lupe whisper-yells, somehow already right next to her, grabbing her arm and pulling her faster into the restroom.
Shirley must notice the three of them crowded together, because she soon joins them on their way to the restroom.
“Carson, oh my goodness are you okay? You look—“
“Hey, where the hell do you four think you’re going?” Jess yells from across the diner.
“To the beach, pack us a lunch!” Lupe shouts back.
Max shoves Carson into the bathroom, allowing Shirley to follow before entering herself, leaving Lupe to bicker with Jess the way they always do. Carson can hear the raised voices through the door.
”You four are the only servers on the floor, what am I meant to do, put on a waitress uniform and do it all myself?”
“I mean if you’re into that kind of thing—“
“I could fire your ass! You know, every time I’m on a sinking boat the first thing I do is drop the dead weight.”
“Yeah? How many sinking boats have you been on? Tell me about each one.”
A beat of silence, followed by the door opening and Lupe coming inside. She closes and locks the bathroom door.
“Oh— Get out here! I’m only saying it once!” Jess yells from the hall outside the bathroom.
The four of them look around at each other, Max and Lupe rolling their eyes while Carson and Shirley rock back onto their heels, uneasy.
“This is the last time I’m gonna say it!”
Shirley moves in the direction of the door, but quickly stills after Lu shoots a particularly sharp glare her way.
“Damnit,” Jess mutters, and they all hear footsteps quickly receding.
Max is the first to move or speak, gently pushing a box into Carson’s hands. “Come on, Carson, time to pee on a stick!”
“Wha— I— I already told you that I don’t want to know!” Carson protests. Max and Lupe have been trying to get Carson to take a pregnancy test for days now, but to no avail.
“You’ve waited long enough, Shaw, it’s time,” Lupe says.
“It’s better to know!” Shirley adds, “If you find out now you can care for your body in exactly the way that it needs— It takes a lot of energy to grow a person, and you need to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients—“
“Blah blah blah, take the test, Carson,” Max interrupts before Shirley can go on a rant.
“But—“
“No buts,” Lupe stops her, shoving her into a stall and pulling the door closed from the top, “Pee on the stick or you’re never getting out of this stall, Shaw.”
Carson lets out a heavy sigh, pulling her pants down and sitting on the seat.
“I don’t have to pee.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Lupe starts, but is quickly interrupted by a weird gurgling sound. “Shirley, what the hell are you doing?”
“It’s a babbling brook. So Carson can pee.”
There’s a heavy silence before Shirley starts up again.
Carson hears Max huff, “I don’t see how this is helpful—“
“Wait,” Carson interrupts, “It’s kind of working. Keep going, Shirl.
And so Shirley does. And weirdly enough, it actually works. She pees on the damn stick, and sets it on top of the test box sitting on the side of the sink as she washes her hands.
“Two minutes,” she says, before falling silent and sinking against the wall down to the bathroom floor, pulling her knees up to her chest.
“Okay, two minutes, that’s fine,” Shirley starts, “You know, your chances of getting pregnant aren’t… the most likely! Especially considering your age…”
Carson tunes out what is probably a vaguely insulting “Shirley Ramble” in favor of letting her mind wander.
Carson was always sure she’d have children— after all, that’s what women in Lake Valley did. They got married and had kids. But then she and Charlie moved out to Rockford after Charlie enlisted in the military, and kids became less of a priority.
But Carson never really wanted to be a mother. As a child, it hadn’t been on her mind as much. Baseball and pies took up most of her thoughts. And after her mother left, what little desire to have a child left her. She knew she wasn’t very nurturing, and her older sister Meg always loved to remind her just how similar to their mother she was. The fear of becoming just like her— of abandoning the ones she loves— just became too much. She ignored the idea of kids altogether.
And then that night with Charlie happened, and a few weeks later she started feeling sick, and now here she was. Taking a pregnancy test in the bathroom at work.
Carson doesn’t know what she’ll do if that test is positive. She cannot have a baby right now. Or, like, ever?
“Hey,” Max calls over, pulling her out of her own head. Shirley must have stopped talking at some point. “It’ll be fine, Carson, just… focus on the negative!”
“That’s not the saying at all, Max—“ Shirley starts.
“Shut up, Shirley!” Lupe cuts in. “Focus on the negative, Shaw. It’ll be okay.”
Carson takes a shuddering breath, and as she exhales, a shrill noise rings out in the bathroom. A phone alarm— Max’s, probably.
Max, Lupe, and Shirley are all still. They look towards Carson expectantly, so she slowly stands up on shaky legs.
Carson turns over to the sink, looking into the mirror for a second before picking up the test. A deep breath. She looks down.
“ Shit .”