8 -TV FICTION CLASSICS
the bottom which made the skirt stand out.
I didn't know what to say. "Uh....Can I help you?" He shook his head, "No thanks, John," he said. "Ms. Mary dried the dishes and I just have to put them away.'
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"Ms. Mary?" I asked.
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"Yes, that's what she insists I call her here at home,' he said. There were still tears in his voice. "I guess it's part of this Women's Lib thing. She says it's a title of respect."
"She doesn't really expect you to wear this thing at the beer bar," I asked.
"No...this one," he said, holding up an identical garment except that it was made of blue denim.
"She says the white one will get too dirty there, unless I learn to work more neatly."
"Well, that's not too bad," I lied.
"It's sissy," Bob complained. "Look at these silly ruffles and this," he added, fingering the flouncy hem.
I noticed that at least it didn't have lace in front, and the ruffles looked smaller.
"Did you talk to your wife," I asked, thinking that surely she wouldn't let his mother-in-law embarrass her beloved husband.
"She thinks it's a good idea." he said. "I spilled some chocolate fudge on my shirt and I couldn't quite get it out." He looked at his watch. "I've got to get going or I'll be late."
I watched him fold his new blue apron, take off the white one and hang it on a hook by the kitchen door.
We went to the living room. Bob kissed Naomi goodbye, but, not his mother-in-law. I might have been mistaken, but I thought I saw a faint smile on her face as she watched us go out the door, Bob carrying his new apron under his arm in a tight bundle.
When we arrived at Doc's Beer Bar, I said, “Why don't you just leave your apron off. . .she won't be any the wiser."
"I can't. You don't know Ms. Mary. She went to Doc this afternoon and told him to make sure I wore it all the time I was working here."
SUBSTITUTE DAUGHTER -9
Sure enough, when Bob said hello to the bar owner, a former drill sergeant in the Marine Corps, Doc's first words were to remind him to wear the apron. Bob was taking over for a girl who wore a white uniform. When he opened his bundle, she smiled. "It's about time you covered up with something besides that old sweatshirt you've been wearing."
The girl helped him tie the bow pretty in the back. "Don't you look cute now," she said. "Did your motherin-law make it"?
Bob nodded. I saw Doc raise his eyebrows when he saw Bob in his girlish apron, but he was a man of few words, "Looks good with the jeans, kid."
It was true even though the apron was of much lighter color denim blue.
There were only few customers at the bar. One of them, a man in his thirties, must have said something, because I heard Bob explain that he had to wear it to prevent spotting his clothes. I had a beer and stayed around for a while chatting with Bob.
"Are you sure you're okay about this apron stuff, Bob?"
He assured me he was and I excused myself and headed for home.
When I mentioned it to Dot, she said, "Well, it seems sensible, if it's to protect his clothes."
Dot added, "Ms. Mary told us in stewardess training that she makes most of her own clothes and she's going to teach us too. I think she's pretty good at it, too.'
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"You know, I don't like her," I replied. "She's making Bob help around the house and he can't even play softball anymore."
"Well, don't forget Bob's mother-in-law works all day. And, if his wife isn't well, it's only right for Bob to help her."
"But he's a man," I argued. "Bob needs some activities to build up a little more. He's the smallest guy in our group. All work and no play? Boys will be boys, right?"
"I like him the way he is," Dot said. "If a man gets over developed, he could become a bully and starts