But You Loved Me

Work. God how I loathe that word. All I fucking do is work. All day, every day, standing behind the same old dusty counter, in the same old stuffy bookstore, waiting for a customer that never comes. Personally I’m yet to discover how the store manages to stay open, because we probably only ever get about three customers a week, and only one of them ever buys a book. Usually it’s some old guy wanting a book on… gardening or some shit. Gardening! I mean, really? Who gardens in Jersey? At least in this part of Jersey anyway, because I’m pretty sure there’s bookstores all over the place, so they wouldn’t exactly have come all the way here just for one poxy little book. But I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Without that one little old man, I probably wouldn’t have a job, even though I’m currently earning… well essentially nothing. I suppose that’s better than being jobless.
Although at this rate I’ll end up moving back into my mom’s basement, because I can only just afford to pay the rent as it is.

My fingers tapped absentmindedly on the counter as I watched the seconds on the clock slowly tick by. Twenty three minutes, and twelve seconds, and then I was free until Monday morning. The thought brought a smile to my face. I could go out, drink myself to sleep, and not have to worry about being late for work in the morning. Hell, I could even be totally reckless and blow the last of my cash on a takeout. Oh the excitement of my life.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Fourteen minutes, and twenty-four seconds. I glanced around the empty store with a sigh, letting my head drop on to my arms, which were folded over the counter. The muffled sound of shuffling drifted over from the store room, I lifted my head again, just as my manager, Steve, appeared from behind me. He glanced around the barren room, before checking the clock with a sigh.

“You might as well get off,” he told me, his tone monotonous. I didn’t bother to argue; I simply pushed myself off from the small wooden stool, and headed back towards the staff closet, grabbed my jacket and turned back for the exit, shrugging it on as I went. I sent a quick ‘see you Monday’ back to him - only for to be returned by a slight mumble - before I pushed open the door with a jingle and stepped out into the cool Jersey air, letting it swing shut behind me, relishing in the elation I now felt as I headed towards my car.

I collapsed into the driver’s seat with a sigh, mixed emotions floating around in my head. I was free, for the entire weekend. But I also had to go back to my dull little apartment, where there was nothing but a shitload of mess waiting for me.
I paused for a moment, before turning the key in the ignition. Twice. Like everything I owned, my car was falling to pieces. It was temperamental, some days it just decided not to run, others it decided to run however it wanted, and you ended up driving straight on instead of turning the corner like you intended.

I pulled out of my parking space and headed in the direction of my apartment, stopping off at a nearby store on the way. And two hours later, I found myself strewn out over my worn old sofa, a bottle of beer in one hand, and a fork in the other. A plate of takeout balanced on my chest, as I attempted to eat whilst lying down – without spilling Chinese food all over myself -. And watching some bad movie I couldn’t tell you the name of. And that was where I stayed, only moving to set my empty plate on the coffee table, to reach over for another beer, or to go to the bathroom. And finally, everything began to fade, and I began to drift.

*

The shrill ring of the phone woke me late the next morning, the noise making the pounding in my head even worse. I groaned as I pushed myself up from the sofa and headed over to the phone, pulling it up to my ear, and mumbling a hoarse ‘hello’ into the receiver.

“So I was planning on meeting my big brother for coffee this morning, only, he didn’t show.” The loud – annoyed - voice of my younger brother rang out through the phone. “Now, I figured there had to be an emergency because, Gerard wouldn’t just ditch me without calling,” he continued, I groaned again, cutting him off.

“Shit. Mikey, I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” I apologized, not being awake enough for it to be completely sincere.

“Yeah, sure you did,” his tone suggested that he clearly didn’t believe me anyway. “So how many bottles did you go through this time, ten? Twelve?” he asked, I sighed, glancing quickly around the apartment at the mess of empty beer bottles, takeout trays, and other random – and probably useless – items.

“I don’t know. Look I’m sorry, okay? I’ll make it up to you; we can meet now if you want?”

“Can’t, Alexis and I have plans,” he replied, his tone completely lacking any kind of apology, although really, I didn’t deserve one.

“Right, um… well, some other time?” I suggested. “I will make it up to you, I promise,”

“Sure you will,” he muttered, “See you later,” I sighed, mumbling a quick ‘bye’ before hanging up the phone and setting it back down. I slowly trudged back over to the couch, brushing an empty bottle onto the floor, where it landed with a soft clunk, before I flopping back onto the sofa, exhaling loudly as I closed my eyes. Blocking the world out as I tried to coax sleep into taking me over once more.