Who Can Really Blame You?

“Okay, so you think the display’s too unsteady?” Hank is asking me, as we stand looking at the new display he’s set up. I think about it.

“Yes,” I say, “The base is too narrow. Talia won’t make it half way up.”

He nods at this.

“I don’t want her on at all though,” he adds as an afterthought. I shrug.

“If I could stop her I would have by now,” I assure him. He sighs, and moves back to the display.

“Yeah, yeah. Call Bernard and tell him that I need him to close up for me tonight,” Hank tells me. I nod, and walk past Nick, who’s huddled in the isle reorganizing some CD’s. I grab the phone off the stand, and pull my pants back up my hips slightly before dialing his number.

“Hallo?” He asks, faking a british accent.

“You were born in Long Island,” I say, “Hank needs you to close up for him tonight.”

He scoffs. Nick pops up from the isle he’s hiding in to listen in on the conversation that’s on speaker phone.

“As if I can,” he says, “I’m going on a date.”

Nick drops back down into the isle.

“With who?” I ask, not trying to hide my surprise.

“Nick,” he says. Nick freezes in the middle of the main isle, which he was crawling across, apparently to escape. I don’t say anything to either of them.

“He’s fucking Nick tonight, he can’t close up,” I tell Hank as he passes by me with boxes.

“We’re not fucking,” Nick starts to say.

“Why don’t you just close up yourself?” Bernard asks in an annoyed tone.

“I dunno,” I say, “Hank didn’t ask me.”

“Fine. We’ll close early today,” Hank says as he passes by me, back to the display with a full box of CDs.

“Sweet,” I mutter, “You have fun with Nick, Bernie.”

“Do not call me Bernie—” he starts but I hang up on him and stare at Nick, who’s very red.

“You and Bernard?!” I exclaim, “I didn’t even know that you like guys!”

“I… I don’t,” he says, shuffling his feet, “I like Bernard.”

I gag.

“He’s not that awful,” Nick mutters as he picks himself up from the floor.

“I have these prejudices from you,” I remind him.

“I know,” he groans, “And I wish you didn’t. He’s so sweet when he’s not trying to impress anyone.”

I don’t say anything for a moment.

“So why are you so skinny now?” Nick asks me, trying to change the subject.

I look down.

“Dunno,” I mutter, and move behind the counter.

Nick watches me.

“You are thin, though,” he says. I make a face as a customer comes in. Neither of us glances up. “Don’t be like that—”

“Can we not talk about this?” I ask, suddenly really pissed.

He looks hurt.

“Yeah,” he says a moment later, trying to hide his expression, “That’s fine.”

I watch him sulk back to the isle he was about to organize.

I sigh and fall into my chair behind the counter. I watch one of our customers try to pocket a CD. She’s not very good at shoplifting.

“We have you on tape shoving that in your pocket,” I call out. The girl jumps and looks to me. “Just put it back,” I say. She hastily puts it back on the shelf. “Where you got it,” I say. She moves it, and rushes out of the store.

“Thanks,” Nick calls.

“No problem,” I reply. I knew it would bug him if he had to put an almost stolen CD back in it’s place and plus I kind of owe it to him. I feel like a douche.

A guy appears at the counter, and smiles at me. I smile back. “Hi,” I say, “Do you need help with something?”

“Nah,” he replies, “Just wanted to talk to you.”

I give him a dubious look.

“About?” I ask.

“Life,” he replies, leaning on the counter. Nick peeks out from his isle to watch. “How’s it treating you?” he asks. I hear Nick snort. I think he knows I have one of the worst lives ever.

“Today’s been okay,” I reply, “The rest of them, not so much.”

“Oh, you’re not one of those desperate emo kids, right?” he asks, still smiling.

“I look emo to you?” I ask, shooing him to the side so I can ring up a customer. She tries making eyes with me, so I keep my gaze down and just rush through the transaction. She glares at me when I hand her my change.

“Not particularly,” he says as I sit back down, “But you know, at my old school there were about 30 kids that just walked around complaining that their pet gecko died the night before and how they cut over it.”

I roll my eyes.

“I only have a bout 6 of those at my school, and I’m proud not to be one of them,” I say. He laughs a little bit as Nick scurries behind him into another isle, while giving me two thumbs up.

“What school do you go to?” he asks.

“JHS,” I reply.

“Johnson?” he asks. I nod unenthusiastically. “You’re still in high school then?” he asks a moment later.

“Well, I’ll be a junior this year,” I say. “You’re in college I guess?” I ask.

“Freshman,” he sighs.

“What are you in for?” I ask as a boy appears at the counter with a band sticker and a CD. “The sticker is free with the CD,” I say and ring up the album, “Well not really, but it’s a sticker and it’s a good CD. Just keep that on the DL.”

He nods and smiles nervously. He then rushes out of the store.

“I’m in for architecture,” he says, “And that was nice of you. I like that band too.”

“They’re local,” I say, “You don’t seem like an architecture kind of guy.”

He shrugs. “It’s a family thing,” he sighs, “I don’t mind it, but I’m more into the music thing. I have a band, but it’s kind of on the backburner to architecture.”

“That blows,” I say.

“What are you going to do when you get in college?” he asks. I pause.

“You know, I don’t think I’m going to college,” I say, leaning on the counter slightly. He makes a sympathetic expression.

“Parents can’t afford it?” he questions. Nick pops out of an isle to watch what ensues. I glance around for a moment.

“I don’t live with them anymore, so they wouldn’t pay for it if they wanted to,” I say, shrugging.

“You don’t live with them?” he asks. I nod.

“Emancipated,” I say uncomfortably. He seems to catch that it’s a touchy subject and falls silent.

“I never got your name,” he says suddenly.

“Ainsley,” I reply, glancing at the time. My shift is over. I grab my things from behind the counter and drop my nametag into the bin. “Yours?” I ask, moving around the counter.

“Oh, I’m Mitchell,” he replies. I stick out my hand to shake his.

“Lovely to meet you, Mitchell,” I say, “Come on Nick! We have to close up now, and you have to get ready for your date.”

Nick pops up from an isle, very red in the face.

“Shut up,” he mutters. I roll my eyes, and turn back to Mitchell.

“So, if I were to come back tomorrow at like, 2 o’clock… you’d be here?” Mitchell asks.

“No,” I say, my face heating slightly, “But if you came back Wednesday at Four, I’d definitely be here.”

He smiles, says goodbye and exits.

“You’re a flirt,” Nick says, “I signed out for you.”

“Thank you, and I am not. He’s the only guy I’ve ever even talked to here,” I reply.

“Yes, I’ve noticed, because you’d like to let what’s-his-face hold you back forever and ever?” he asks as we make our way to the front of the store. I flip the sign to closed and shove Nick out the door. I exit and he locks the door once it’s closed.

“Have fun fucking Bernie,” I tease as I start walking to my car.

“Have fun flirting with older men and never making a move!” he calls back. I ignore him. It’s best that way.

I start the walk home, since I walked here anyways. I didn’t feel like buying gas. I haven’t felt like doing much lately. My phone starts ringing in my pocket, so I reach in, hoping no one wants to hang out with me right now, and answer it.

“Hello?” I answer, checking for traffic and crossing.

“Hey,” Tayler says. I’m honestly surprised. Tayler never calls me.

“Tayler? What’s up?” I ask, reaching the sidewalk, and cutting through an alleyway.

“Just wanted to see how you’re doing,” he says, “Uh, Hadley told us about last night.”

I have to think for a moment. I feel my stomach sink when I realize what he means.

“Oh,” I say. That’s all I say.

“We’re just… We’re worried,” he says a moment later.

“Because I had a nightmare?” I ask, entering the lobby of my building.

“Everything,” he says, then after a moment of silence on both of our parts, “We’re not stupid.”

“I know, I don’t think you are,” I say. I pause to find my words. “I’m fine. Last night was just… bad for me. I honestly am feeling better.”

Tayler doesn’t say anything for a long moment.

“Okay,” he says, “I believe you.”

“Thank you,” I reply, “Listen, I’ve got to go. My phone’s about to die.”

“Okay,” he says, buying my lie, “See you soon?”

“Yeah,” I agree, “Bye.”

We hang up, and as I stand in the elevator alone I realize that I have to try harder to feel better.

And if that fails, well then I guess I’ll just have to learn how to fake it.