Calamity Jane

I go to work twenty minutes early because I can no longer stand being with myself. After I clock in, I greet my co-workers, Maurice and Stephanie and go back to get my hat and apron. I’m not exactly in the mood to greet customers, but I’m lucky because things are going a bit slow at the moment. They won’t start flooding in until about twelve or one and then things will slow down after that.

I stand beside Maurice, who’s making fries and lean against the wall. “Sup?” he says, nodding to me as he lifts the fries out of the grease.

“Not much,” I reply, looking forward. “You?”

He shrugs and pours an unhealthy amount of salt of the fries and gets a few bags ready. “My girl’s coming by today,” he tells me, smiling. “I want you to meet her.”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously? I’m meeting Taylor?”

“Yep.”

I shake my head. “You need to go ahead and get married,” I joke, “you’ve been dating forever.”

They’ve been dating for six years, so Maurice tells me. I’ve only known him three years and almost every minute consists of ‘I hate Taylor,’ and then, ‘Oh god, I love that girl.’ Just like a guy.

He laughs and scratches the top of his head. “We are getting married.”

My mouth falls open and I look at him in shock. “Really?” I ask. He nods enthusiastically and I throw my arms around him. “I’m so happy for you!” I shriek. He laughs and when I finally release him, he looks at my hands.

“When are you marrying your man?” he questions. “You and Landon have been going hard for three years right?”

“Four,” I answer stiffly, “Well… it lasted four years three months and ten days.”

His face falls and he looks confused. “Lasted? You mean you-”

“Yeah,” I say sullenly. I turn away and look at Stephanie who runs out to greet a customer. “He’s… he’s um going into the Army. I told him if he did it that we were through.”

“Shit,” Maurice whistles and places an arm over my shoulder. “I’m sorry Jane.”

“It’s fine,” I say. I brush him off and go back to the freezers. I open it up and grab another bag of fries even though we won’t need them for another hour.

“Jane,” Maurice says, taking the bag out of my hands. “Jane.” I ignore him and turn away. “Jane.”

I blink away my tears and bite my lip. “Yeah?”

“Take off, okay? You can’t work like this.”

“No,” I say. “No. I can’t go home. I need to be distracted.”

“Well… okay,” he says, shrugging. We go back to pretending to be busy until it’s time for more customers, avoiding the subject of war, brothers, and significant others.



All of the weird, psycho, crazy people come to Wendy’s. It’s a commonly shared secret between every employee that works in all the Wendy’s across the USA. I mean, really. When you think fast food, you think McDonald’s and Burger King. McDonald’s has the best fries and sweet tea, and BK has the best chicken sandwiches and salads. What does Wendy’s have? Frosties. But that’s about it. Only the weird, cheese-has-slid-off-their-cracker-old-people come here to get Chili and loaded baked potatoes at lunch. And these are usually the same people that have been sitting at Hardee’s since six o’clock gossiping about everyone in this town and all the latest ‘events’. Because everyone knows that since Hardee’s stopped selling curly fries, everyone is angry with them. Even the old bastards who never even ate them in the first place.

I always end up getting some freak who starts to have a nervous meltdown because I asked what she wanted and she wasn’t ready to order yet or someone who insists on ordering items that are clearly not on the menu. People just don’t realize that working at a fast food restaurant is hell.

Towards the end of my shift, a girl comes in wearing this huge white coat with faux fur on the hood. Her hair is done in braids, she has on snow boots even though it’s hot as hell outside, huge hoop earrings, and this I’ll-kick-your-ass-attitude about her but no one would actually be afraid because she’s white. When she comes to the counter, she nods to me and says, “Where’s Maurice?”

And I’m a bit shocked, because one) if this is Taylor, this is the girl Maurice is marrying, and two) she has a Spanish accent. She turns her head to the side in annoyance when I don’t answer right away.

“Um, hi,” I say, “he’s in the back. Are you Taylor?”

She narrows her eyebrows at me suspiciously and nods. “Well hell yes I’m Taylor. Are you trying to steal my man?”

I shake my head, trying to hold back a laugh. “I’ll take you outside and kick your ass,” she threatens, balling her hand in a fast, “I swear to god. All I need is my chicken nuggets and grape juice.”

“Oh my god I think I’m in love,” I say, laughing. “Maurice might have to kick my ass for trying to steal you.”

She bursts out laughing and relaxes. “You’re Calamity, ain’t you? Maurice told me about you.” She laughs even harder and leans against the counter. “We need to hang out.”

“Heck yeah,” I say in agreement.

When Taylor cups her hands around her mouth and yells out, “Maurice! Get your ass back here!” I secretly already consider her my new best friend.



Taylor, Maurice, and I have been talking for the last two hours, sitting at a booth in Wendy’s. She alternates between threatening to kick Maurice’s ass and mine, and then explaining how she got all the bruises and cuts on her arms from fighting bitches and then to how she can’t wait to be married.

She’s definitely the perfect girl for Maurice, that’s all I can say. She’s been complaining about how her stomach hurts from drinking milk all the time even though she knows she’s lactose intolerant. But apparently milk is an important part of her life.

As she shares her life story, I finally learn that she is definitely part white, but she’s mixed with Puerto Rican. She has three half sisters and a younger half brother because, as she told me, her mom is a whore who had a lover while her dad was in prison and he obviously didn’t pass down the Spanish traits because he’s white. Oh yeah, and that fact that her mom is white too. I’m not sure whether to feel sorry for him or laugh because of all the things he’s in trouble for. I can only imagine what it was like for him when his kids were finally able to talk and it was with an accent.

After she’s through, Taylor takes a deep breath, grabs her sides, and looks at me. “What’s your story?”

Maurice shifts uncomfortably and taps her arm. When she looks at him, he shakes his head no and she makes an ‘O’ shape with her mouth. I feel awkward when they continue to look at each other and turn my head, to look out the window. “Maybe another time, then, kid,” Taylor says, punching my arm lightly from across the table.

I offer the best smile I can give and stand up. So do Taylor and Maurice. He wraps his arm around her and they walk ahead of me together and I feel out of place. We all stand together outside a moment and they look at me. “Where you going, Jane?” Maurice asks.

“I don’t know,” I answer numbly, the good, light feeling going away. “Home.”

He nods. “Tay and I are going home too. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Taylor waves and gives me a sweet smile and Maurice places a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he whispers, before stepping down on the pavement. I watch them go away, the smile fading with each step they take. The wind blows, but it’s a hot, dry wind and the sun blazes down at me. I glance at everyone passing me and think of Landon, leaving me in two weeks, going thousands of miles away. I think of how much I hate being an adult and how everyone lied when they said freedom was a good thing. And mainly, I think of Joel.

I hope everything will be okay.