The Big Tamale

This was the defining moment, the big tamale, the once in a lifetime-moment, Goofy thought as he and his friends entered Joe's after their day of golf and male bonding. He knew that Carla always worked on Saturday afternoons, and he was certain that if he didn't find the courage to ask her out today, with the support of his friends, he would never do it. The downside of being a coward, he thought as he anxiously scouted the diner for signs of the lady in question. He didn't spot her right away, and for a brief but terrifying moment he was convinced that she'd taken one of her rare, but sometimes inevitable, days off. But then he saw her, chitchatting amiably with an old man as she brought him his food. Goofy had never seen anyone more beautiful in his whole life. Her whole being seemed to radiate friendliness and warmth. He smiled when she absentmindedly tugged at her ear, and would have remained motionless, just absorbing the sight, if Donald hadn't poked him in the back and stage whispered, "Hey, you were supposed to ask her out, not stalk her."

Goofy blushed, but quickly regained his composure and led their little group to an empty table. When they were seated, he couldn't help but let his gaze wander back over to Carla, who was busy clearing off a table.

"Hey, stop staring at the poor girl", Donald said and waved a hand in front of Goofy's face. "Have you decided when to ask her yet?" he continued.

"Gee, I dunno. What do you think, Mickey?"

"Hmm, when it feels natural for you."

"Gawrsh, that's real helpful," Goofy remarked irritably.

"Hehe, alright; how about when you pay the tab?"

"That sounds alright," Goofy decided.

At this point they were interrupted by Carla who had appeared at their table, notepad and pen ready in her hands. Goofy quickly lost his nerve and started to play with the bottle of Tabasco on the table so that he didn't have to look Carla in the eyes. Had he looked at her, he would have noticed that she too seemed unusually fidgety and nervous.

"Good evening, messieurs, and welcome to Chez Joe's. What can I interest you in from the menu tonight?" she teased a little too good-naturedly to be true.

"A cheeseburger with fries and a strawberry milkshake," Donald quickly said, completely insensitive to the tension in the room.

"And I just want a chilidog and a coke" Mickey supplemented, trying hard to go for casual.

"All right. What do you want, Goofy?"

"Umm, the usual, please," he said and braved a quick look at her face. He was somewhat relieved when he noticed that she didn't look as if she knew what he really wanted right now.

"Okay, I'll have that coming right out for you," Carla said and hurried away towards the kitchen.

When she was out of hearing distance, Mickey asked Goofy if he had noticed anything odd in Carla's behaviour.

"Wha? No, I don't think so, but then I was preoccupied with worrying if she would notice anything odd about me", Goofy shrugged.

Mickey smiled at that and explained what he meant. "Well, she was acting like she was nervous about something, and her behaviour was a little strained – it was as if she was trying to act normal, but couldn't quite make it," he said with a thoughtful frown.

Goofy paled and whispered, "Do ya think she knows?"

"Nah," Donald piped up, "I don't think so. If she knew, you'd know."

"Are ya sure?"

"Yeah," Donald explained, "she's a dame, and they just can't keep a secret. If she knows, you'd know it," he finished with an eloquent shrug of his shoulders.

"Haha, speaking from personal experience there, eh Duck boy?" Mickey asked mockingly.

Two angry red splotches appeared on Donald's otherwise white face, but he replied nonetheless. "As a matter of fact, yes. Not that that's any of your business, you nosy…"

He was cut off by Goofy who said, "Thanks, that feels good to know!" in order to avoid a scene. With a damper put on Donald's rage, they entered into a comfortable silence.

§§§

"He's here, he's here!" Carla cried worriedly the moment she was safely out of earshot of the customers. Martha raised her head from the bucket of questionable dressing that she was suspiciously sniffing and shot her a worried glance. "Calm down, hun, and take a deep breath."

When Carla showed no signs of calming down, Martha rose from her hunched position by the fridge, wiped her hands on her polyester clad thighs and walked over to Carla, who was pacing frantically around the small back-room. She put her hands on her shoulders in a soothing gesture. "Now, tell me what's wrong with that man of yours, awright, hun?"

"Nothing's wrong with him! I'm the one having a nervous breakdown!" Carla almost sobbed, hiding her face in her hands. Martha gently clasped Carla's hands with her own and brought them down to waist-level. She led Carla's devastated form to a box where she gently coaxed her into sitting down and squatted down before her.

"Awright, then tell me what's wrong with you. I thought ya were gonna set things straight with 'im today, and now you're in 'ere, crying." She searched Carla's face for an answer, and not finding anything, she continued "Did somethin' happen?"

Carla hiccupped. "No…Nothin' happened, I just re..realized tha...at I ca…a'nt do it!"

"Shhh, it'll be awright," Martha comforted and embraced her in a bear hug. "It aint easy, I know that, hun." She rocked Carla gently, and continued "Ya shouldn't take evrythin' so serious, that's all. It's okay to not be strong all the time."

Muffled, but still audible, came Carla's devastated reply, "'m not strong."

"Ya sure are," Martha said harshly.

"No, 'm weak."

Martha suddenly released Carla from her hold, and looked her straight in the eyes while holding her by the shoulders. "Y'are strong, there's no denyin' that." Carla tried to avert her eyes, but she was held captured by Martha's strong hands and steady gaze. Eventually, the mere presence of Martha's solid bulk calmed her down enough so that Martha could continue, albeit softly, "Y'are strong, stronger than most people I know." She handed Carla a handkerchief that she had fished from her blouse pocket and gave her a reassuring shoulder squeeze. "No one can do everythin' on their own though. It ain't shameful to need help once in a while, ya oughta remember that." At Carla's teary eyed and grateful smile she briskly added, "Now clean yerself up an' in the meantime, I'll bring 'im 'is food."

She pulled Carla up to her feet and left with one last encouraging smile.

§§§

Just as the three friends were getting restless, Martha appeared at their table with their food.

"Here's your food, boys. Sorry for the wait – there was a small mishap in the kitchen," she said with a warm smile and put down the plates in front of them.

"Thanks a lot, Martha," Goofy said evenly, trying to hide his confusion at Carla's sudden disappearance. Martha wasn't fooled though, and offered, "Carla had to freshen up a little – she got splattered with some stale dressing," as an explanation.

Goofy let out a breath he didn't know that he was holding, and repeated his thanks with an added, "Gawrsh, this sure looks tasty."

"Ya could use to put on some weight, ya're nothin' but skin and bones!" she said fondly and winked at him. "Well, it's been lovely chatting with ya all, but I gotta run now – enjoy your meal." And with a swish of her hips she left them to their own devices.

§§§

Carla looked at the closed door for a second, but then pulled herself together and swiftly walked to the bathroom. She didn't have the time to wallow in self-pity. Get it together, Gardiner, this is not the time to go all girly on me, she thought with not a small amount of self-loathing. She locked the bathroom door behind her and turned on the faucet. She took a long look at her splotchy image in the mirror and cringed at how immature and weak she had acted. Washing her face in the cold water, she continued her musings. God, I'm pathetic. Not only do I screw up with my resolve to tell him how I feel, I make an ass of myself in front of my only friend too. What she must think of me right now! I can't believe how stupid I was, thinking that I could actually go through with it… Once a loser, always a loser, didn't you already know that? "Hah!" she said at that thought, joylessly. She dried her face with a paper towel and frowned at her reflection. That'll have to do. I've got more important things to do than to make myself presentable. With one last annoyed look in the mirror she left the dingy bathroom, feeling slightly better than when she entered it.

§§§

Donald didn't waste a second starting to glomp down his cheeseburger. It was probably a habit he picked up when his nephews moved in with him, Goofy thought. There's nothing like three growing lads in the house to teach a man to eat while he has the chance. Yet he couldn't help but be a little irritated with his nonchalance. Now that he had time to think about it, he didn't believe Martha's explanation, and frankly, he was worried about Carla. She had been acting oddly, even he had noticed that, and now she didn't bring them their food even though they were her customers. He hoped that she was all right.

Mickey seemed to sense his feelings and said, "That sure was strange… I wonder where Carla disappeared to. Don't worry though; I'm sure she's fine. Maybe she just got an important phone call."

"Yeah, that's it!" Goofy willed himself to believe Mickey for his own sanity's sake. But a small corner of his mind still whispered; that doesn't explain why Martha lied about it.

The rest of their meal was eaten in silence and accompanied by several searching glances around the diner from Goofy's side of the table. He needed Carla to show up again, because it was now or never as far as confessions went, and he didn't think he could handle admiring her from afar for much longer. He was growing more and more anxious, but finally he noticed her coming out from the kitchen area. As he caught sight of her, the tight feeling around his chest evaporated as suddenly as it had arrived. It was now or never – he would either face his fears of rejection or regret his indecisiveness for the rest of his life. Tonight he would talk with her.

§§§

The moment Carla had left the bathroom, she was ambushed by an anxious Martha. "Hun, ya don't look so good," she said with a worried frown.

"Gee, thanks," Carla said, but couldn't help but feel touched at the older woman's concern.

"When was the last time you ate somethin'?" Martha demanded. "You look like a ghost!" She gave her a sandwich and a glass of water. "Here, I won't stand for ya fainting, ya hear me?"

"Martha, it really isn't necessary, I'm fine," she said, but she ate up the food anyway, because an irritated Martha was not something she was ready to deal with right then.

Martha supervised her closely the whole time, and once Carla was finished with her impromptu meal she asked, "Feelin' any better?"

"Yeah, tons," Carla replied, and to her own surprise, she was.

"That's great, hun" Martha said, sounding very relieved. "Ya gotta look after yerself, ya can't just go aroun' skipping meals. 's not good for ya."

Carla felt ashamed when she thought about how much she had worried her friend and gave her a brief but warm hug. "I'm sorry," she said, "I guess I've just got too much on my mind lately." She smiled to show that she was okay and continued, "I promise I'll take better care of myself in the future".

"Ya better do that," came Martha's gruff reply.

Carla took a few deep breaths, straightened out her uniform, and asked, "Do I look okay?"

Martha took a step back and ran an expert look down the length of her. Her intent observation was just about to make Carla nervous, when she smiled at her and gave her two thumbs up.

"You evil woman," Carla laughed, to which Martha replied, "Ya know it," with a laugh of her own.

Carla briefly fiddled with her apron, while thinking through her situation. She couldn't stand for chickening out, not now when she was as close to her goal as ever. Her decision being made she bravely said, "Wish me luck," and turned around.

"Wha? Ya're gonna talk with 'im after all?" Martha asked, seemingly in shock.

"Nothin' ventured, nothin' gained." And with that Carla squared her shoulders and walked out to the customers.

§§§

"She's back," Goofy murmured to his friends as soon as he caught sight of Carla.

"And just in time too." Mickey said, "We've all finished our food, even Mr. Slob-A-Lot over there," he added, gesturing towards Donald.

"Okay… I guess it's time then," he said shakily.

"You can do it, pal!" Donald said supportively.

"It'll be alright, Goof. We'll be right behind you. Go forward in glory, young warrior," Mickey said with a salute.

Goofy shot him a bemused look, but got up from his chair nonetheless. He walked to the cash register a little tentatively at first, but when he noticed that his friends were still hovering behind him, he regained some confidence.

"H-Hiya again," he said, trying hard to appear at ease.

"Hi. I hope you enjoyed your meal," came Carla's stilted reply. Goofy would have run away then and there if it wasn't for the shaky smile she gave him alongside the sentence.

"It was excellent."

"Liar," she smiled.

"A-hyuck!" Goofy couldn't help but laugh. Carla's smile got even wider, and she said a bit hesitantly, "You- you've got a great laugh."

"Gee, Thanks," Goofy blushed and handed over a few dollar bills to her. "Keep the change."

"Thanks."

"…So," they both said at the same time. They both laughed nervously, and continued.

"I was wondering," Carla forced herself to say, not listening to Goofy, who in turn was completely focused on getting across his own message.

"Maybe -"

"Perhaps -"

"Possibly -"

"You might feel like -"

"You'd want -"

Both terribly embarrassed, they finished, "…to go out for a cup of coffee?"