Words I Might Have Ate

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It was one of those perfect summer days. The sun was shining brilliantly, the streets were busy with people and the ocean was glittering invitingly only yards away from the open door. I could smell the salty ocean breeze if I concentrated deeply enough and every part of me itched to hop over the counter and dive headfirst into the busy Californian day.

Unfortunately I was stuck at work. Since I was low man on the totem pole of the bar's work crew, I got stuck with the horrendous shift of ten to four. Rosie, the manager on shift, was leaving me soon as it was closing in on two o’clock in the afternoon. I would be left to my own devices in the bar at least until my relief came in at four.

On a Tuesday afternoon, the bar was dead. There were rarely any customers in the mornings anyway, even on the weekends and at the start of the week, most people were busy with work or school and had no time to drink their money away. Save the regular drunk who waited outside the pub doors every morning and nursed beers all day long until dinner time when he shuffled off to wherever he belongs.

He was already on his fourth drink of the day. In all actuality, he did nothing but stare into his glass of frothy beer and silently hand over the money for his bill when it came time for him to leave. That still didn’t stop me from trying to talk to him for the first few weeks. Eventually I gave up when Rosie informed me that he’s been occupying the same seat at the bar every day for almost two years now and he has yet to say more than three words to her.

My cleaning tasks for the shift were already done and had been done for almost two hours now. After helping Rosie count inventory, I settled myself down on a rickety old bar stool and struggled to think of ways to amuse myself. As Rosie was back in the office catching up on paperwork, I was left by myself on the floor.

The first thirty minutes or so, I had constructed an intricate tower using toothpicks and marshmallows. After my creation had collapsed due to a slight miscalculation on my part—I had forgotten to add support beams in the center so it caved in on itself like a half-baked cake—I swept the mess into a trash bin and began to flip through the channels on the television.

The television that hung above the bar was an ancient small screen that had terrible reception and grainy images. But it still didn’t stop me from channel surfing until even the drunk had made a small protesting noise of annoyance. The remote clatters to the polished bar with a bit of a sigh on my part and I swivel around so I can prop my head up and stare out the window. Maybe if I stared hard enough, Rosie would let me leave early and I could spend at least a few hours prowling around Berkeley with Mike or Tré.

Somewhere deep in the back of my head, I realized that my book was tucked into my jacket pocket in the back room and now was the opportune time for me to get some serious reading done. But I couldn’t bring myself to rise to my feet and make the agonizing twelve yard walk to the break room.

There’s a bit of a clatter from behind me and I turn in time to see Rosie exit the office, looking exhausted and sporting an ink smudge on her left cheek. Her hair is turning frizzy in the summer heat and her cheeks are stained a dull, flushed red.

“I’m ordering in some take-out,” She begins once she spots me. “Do you want anything?”

I glance over at the clock before nodding. “Where are you ordering from?”

She takes her hair down and reties it quickly. “I’m in the mood for Chinese; how about you?”

“Sure,” I stand up from my stool, my back cracking a bit. “That sounds good to me.”

Rosie picks up the phone and begins to dial a number from memory, her eyebrows coming together as she concentrates on the greeting. “What do you want?”

“Shrimp fried rice,” I announce, my stomach gurgling at the very thought. “And eggrolls.”

She nods and turns away as she begins to speak to the operator about our order. I listen for just a few seconds before turning on my heel and slowly making my way back into the break room. My wallet is still pleasantly full from last week’s paycheck, as I had only taken money out to buy some groceries and buy another bus pass. I take out a ten and place the worn piece of leather back into my jacket pocket. Just as I turn to walk back out on the floor, I remember the book in my right pocket. I grab it quickly before I return to Rosie.

She hands me her money and glances over at the drunk, who is busy running an absentminded finger through the foam on top of his beer. “I’ll be back in the back working on the schedule if you need me.”

“Okay,” I nod to let her know that I was listening and I watch as she disappears back behind the swinging door before I settle myself back down on my chair, the money safely stowed away under the counter.

I let the book fall open to the page with the folded down corners and I make a clicking noise in the back of my throat as I scan the words for my last stopping point. I find my spot easily enough and the next thirty minutes pass by uneventfully, save me refilling the drunk’s mug of beer and grabbing myself a beer from the cooler.

A shadow falls across the counter and I look up into the open doorway to see two figures shrouded in the sun’s brilliant rays. It takes me just a few seconds before I realize that they hesitate briefly before making their way inside.

It was two girls. They didn’t look any older than eighteen at the very most. The taller of the two had short blonde hair and a light coat of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her face was calm and at ease as she walks across the room towards me, the other girl trailing in her wake hesitantly.

Martin’s Pub was rather anal about checking the younger patron’s IDs as Berkeley University was only a few blocks away. But this girl had a rather nice rack, I note with a wicked smirk. Maybe I’d let her slide just this once.

“Can I help you?” I ask, still sprawled out in my relaxed position with my feet kicked up on a shelf under the counter.

The tall girl nods and smiles at me, revealing straight, white teeth. “I’m looking for Rosie Williams; I have an interview at 2:45.”

“Alright,” I stand up, tossing my book up onto the counter. “Let me go see if she’s ready for you.” Without waiting for a reply, I stroll into the back office and quickly spot Rosie hunched in front of the computer, her fingers tapping at her mouth thoughtfully as she studies the screen. I wait until I’m right behind her before I speak. “Rosie.”

She jumps, spinning around in her chair and clutching at her chest. “Jesus kid, are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

“And leave me to take care of the store by myself? Hell no,” I reply smartly, laughing a bit at how frightened she looks. “I just came back to tell you that there’s a girl out there who’s looking for you.”

“Who is it?” Rosie asks, turning back to the desk and starting to straighten up her stacks of papers.

I shrug, one hand in my pocket and the other hanging uselessly at my side. “I don’t know. She says she has an interview with you.”

“Oh hell,” She looks panicked very briefly. “I forgot about her. Distract them for a few moments while I get together an interview packet.”

I nod and casually stroll back through the swinging door to the bar. The girls are standing at the bar, talking quietly between themselves, though they both fall oddly silent when they catch sight of me. “Do you want anything to drink? It’s on the house,” I offer on a sudden whim.

The blonde girl shakes her head. “I’m alright, thanks. I’m just going to use the restroom really quickly and I’ll be right back.” She shoulders her bag before moving easily across the floor and disappearing down the tiny hallway with the neon restroom sign hanging above it.

I throw myself back down into my seat and take a satisfying swig of my beer before sighing, bored out of my mind. I look around the counter for my book, intent on picking back up where I left off and reading diligently at least until my lunch arrived.

“So you’re a J.D. Salinger fan,” says a quiet voice to my left.

I snap my head around and see the other girl calmly sitting at the bar with my book in her hands and her purse lying next to her. I had been so caught up in the first girl that I hadn’t even taken the time to properly look at the other girl.

She was shorter and smaller than Blondie with extremely pale skin. Her hair was a reddish-brown color and hung down past her shoulders in kinky waves, laying against her skin and contrasting wonderfully. But her eyes, her eyes stunned me. They were big and doe-like, framed with thick dark eyelashes and hidden under dark thin eyebrows. They were green, like my eyes, only prettier. I think back to a photograph of the Caribbean Ocean that I remember Mom showing me a long time ago, back when she was planning her honeymoon with Adam. This girl’s eyes remind me of that ocean—pale, inviting and mysterious.

She was cute, cuter than the blonde girl anyway. But those eyes, I keep coming back to those amazing orbs. It was like I was drawn to them magnetically. It was rare that I found anyone else with green eyes, let alone a shade of green that resembled mine quite a bit.

Suddenly I remember that she asked me a question and I blink, the trance completely broken as I struggle to recall what exactly she had said to me. I look back down at my book in her hands and that is when I remember.

“It’s the first time I’ve read it,” I admit freely, shrugging my shoulders a bit and hoping against hope that she didn’t notice my delayed response. Though she would have been rather slow to not realize that I had spent the past minute and a half blatantly staring at her as if I had never seen a girl before in my life.

She glances back down at the book and turns it over, her fingertips ghosting over the synopsis lightly. “That’s such a shame. This book looks so worn I figured you had at least read it half a dozen times. It looks like you’re at a good spot though,” She brightens after she glances down at the marked page. “How’re you liking it so far?”

I take a moment to answer, going over Holden’s character in my mind. “He irritated me at first, but I think I’m starting to like him.”

She nods, seemingly satisfied with my answer. “The first time I read this, I very nearly had to throw it out the window because I got so frustrated with him. But I carried through with it because it was such a classic.” She closes the book once again and holds it out to me just as Blondie comes tottering back and Rosie comes through the swinging doors.

We both watch in silence as the two greet and Rosie ushers her back into the office to conduct the interview. “Yeah,” I laugh finally, taking the offered book and looking down at the tattered pages. “The beginning was a bit slow but I think it’s starting to pick up a little bit. At least he’s not talking about clipping his toenails anymore.”

She grimaces, her entire face lighting up as she laughs. A bit of a silence falls down around us and she bends over, exposing her pale neck to me as she runs her fingers across the polished surface of the bar. Finally she looks back up at me, a shy smile on her face. “I’m Rilla Colvin, by the way.”

“I’m Billie Armstrong,” I answer, watching as she seems to repeat my name to herself, as if she were testing how it sounded rolling off her tongue. “So why’re you here? Do you have an interview after Blondie?” I nod at the closed office door behind me.

Rilla looks confused for a moment at the mention of Blondie but she seems to relax once again when she realizes I was referring to her friend. “Oh, that’s Faye. I don’t have an interview with Rosie, I’m just here for moral support.”

“Blondie needs moral support just to go to a job interview?” I ask with one eyebrow raised. “It’s her first job then?”

“No,” Rilla shakes her head, her earrings clinking gently in her hair. “We were walking around Berkeley, trying to get a feel for the neighborhood, you know? And I guess we lost track of time because we didn’t have time to stop back at our room so I just tagged along.” She makes a motion with her hands as if she were frazzled. “I’m still not too good at finding my way around this place quite yet so it just seemed easier to wait for her interview to be over.”

Just as I open my mouth to speak, there is another shadow in the doorway and a rather large man walks into the bar, a plastic bag in his grasp. “Did you order this?” He asks, motioning to the bag in his hand.

I nod and stand up from my seat, rooting around for the wad of cash under the register. I pull it out and hand it to him, murmuring to keep the change as he begins to expertly count through the crumpled bills. He nods and leaves just as quickly as he came, pocketing the money as he exits.

I hastily unwrap the bag and pull out my two containers before shoving Rosie’s food back by the door and plopping myself down in my seat. “So you’re not from around here then?”

Rilla nods, scratching at her upper arm absentmindedly. “The both of us are originally from San Diego. We’re in Berkeley at the moment for school.”

“What grade are you in?” I ask interestedly as I pop open my carton of fried rice and inhale the tantalizing aroma deeply.

“We’re both freshman,” She replies smoothly, watching as I stuff a bite of rice into my mouth with an amused grin on her lips. “We’re here for orientation this week which is why we’re here so early.”

“I was thinking you were ridiculously early. I didn’t think colleges started until much later,” I pop open my carton of eggrolls and hold it out to Rilla. “Do you want one?”

She hesitates for a brief moment before reaching in and plucking one out, smiling at me. “Thanks. So wait, you’re not in college then yourself?” Her eyebrows come together in a knitted frown and she looks so confused.

“Ah no,” I shrug like I don’t care, though I can feel her gaze boring holes into me. “I, uh—never graduated high school.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence following my words and I occupy myself by taking a particularly healthy bite of rice. As I chew, I pull at the skin on the back of my neck and watch her from under my eyelashes.

She looks startled at first, though it smoothly transitions into a calm face again. To save her from having to resurrect the conversation, I clear my throat and shrug as if it didn’t bother me that this obviously younger girl already had a higher education than me.

“Music—that’s my education. There’s not a day that goes by that I take it for granted,” I grin toothily at her and she smiles back brilliantly, clearly relieved to be moving on past our awkward hurdle.

She takes a bite of the eggroll and nods thoughtfully. “So music is really that important to you, huh?”

“I should hope so,” I can’t keep the teasing tone out of my voice and I desperately hope that she can tell that I’m kidding. “As it’s what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

She casts a critical eye around the empty bar, taking in the vacant seats and rickety tables. “Aren’t you in the wrong place then? I’m fairly certain musicians need both a stage and an audience.”

Relief washes over me as I catch on to her own slightly sarcastic reply. There was nothing I hated more than when a girl takes offense to something I said. “For your information,” I begin just as the office door swings open and both Rosie and Blondie walk out with wide grins on both of their faces. Obviously the interview went well then, judging by the smug look on Blondie’s face. “I’m in a band. This is just a day job until my band takes off.”

Rilla’s eyes light up at the mention of my band and she looks genuinely regretful when Blondie sidles up next to her, ready to leave. “I pictured you as being in a band,” She announces, looking me up and down as she pops the last bit of her eggroll into her mouth. “You’ve just got that look about you.” She stands up and grabs her purse before shouldering it. “Thanks for the eggroll, Billie.”

I nod and watch as Blondie throws her arm around Rilla’s bare shoulder and the two head towards the exit after saying their goodbyes. I watch Rilla’s backside as the two disappear out into the sunny day and a tiny part of me is a bit annoyed that our conversation had been interrupted just when it started to get good.

“She starts on Thursday so try to keep it in your pants until after your shift, alright?” Rosie pipes up suddenly from my right side.

A flash of irritation lightnings across my face at her words. “I was just making polite conversation with her friend. I had to or else we both would have died from boredom.”

Rosie laughs as she begins to pick through her own takeout cartons. “You’re right, it is pretty slow today. Why don’t you take off? I’ll stay until your relief comes in at four. I’m still working on that schedule back there.” She makes a disgusted face and mutters something along the lines of ‘technology’ under her breath.

I don’t need telling twice. I stuff the rest of my rice into my mouth before shoving my chopsticks into the carton and tossing it into the trash can. “You sure?” I ask, though I’m already halfway across the store.

Rosie laughs and waves me off easily as she settles back down behind the counter. “Yes I’m sure. Go enjoy the sun.”

I grab my jacket along with my book and eggrolls before shouting out my thanks and hurrying out the front door. Normally I would turn left to either head home or take the bus but I had watched Rilla and Blondie turn right, towards Berkeley’s campus.

I squint into the sunlight, a lame attempt on my part to get past the horde of people to see if I could spot her reddish curls. But if she’s close by, I can’t see her and so I turn to my left and head towards the bus stop. Mike and Tré were waiting for me at home.