Status: NaNoWriMo - 21,112 words.
Exits and Entrances
thomas shannon.
Getting a job wasn’t as exciting as I thought it was. But it was needed for three things: college, gas, and various expenses. Money was money, and I was flat out broke. I needed to make bank, and your grandmama had always promised a job if I needed one. Which was why I was here, spending all my time practically begging your grandmama and Billy.
I threw on an apron and smiled at your Grandmama, but she stopped me, Cady. “Cady is working here now too, taking over for her Momma. So if you’re going to break her heart like you did before, I won’t let you.”
She was trying to protect you, Cady, and for some reason, that made me smile wider than ever before I spoke. “I’m actually trying to get her back, Mrs. Pinot,” I say, and she gently pushes my shoulder, smiling brightly before pushing me out into the dark bar area, saying something about table 27.
You were sitting there, at the bar, talking to Billy, and I avoided your eye contact as I waited on the table. I was scared to see your face, scared to see your reaction when you realized that I worked here with you. You’d hate me, and you’d beg your grandmama to fire me straight away but you know what, I wanted to be here and I wanted to stay with you here, even if that meant breaking your heart. Because I just wanted us to get close again.
While I stood in the kitchen, the head chef, he told me that you had been working here for two weeks, spending much time sleeping in your grandparents’s house next door, and even more time on your hands and knees, keeping the floors and windows clean. Jokingly, he told me that without you, the restaurant would be filthy.
Then (you’d find this hilarious) he handed me my table’s food and sent me away, mumbling how I was a terrible person.
How much did you tell theses people, Cady? That I sucked overall? It was okay. It was dark, it was quiet, and business was slowing down. Your grandmama went to bed, and you were in charge of closing.
It brought up so many old memories of us hanging out here, laying on the table and looking at the ceilings, pretending we were looking at the stars. We were so good at those games of pretend, determined to make these alternate realities better.
What are you going to do now, though, Cady? There are no stars to look at, no alternate realities. Now what?
I threw on an apron and smiled at your Grandmama, but she stopped me, Cady. “Cady is working here now too, taking over for her Momma. So if you’re going to break her heart like you did before, I won’t let you.”
She was trying to protect you, Cady, and for some reason, that made me smile wider than ever before I spoke. “I’m actually trying to get her back, Mrs. Pinot,” I say, and she gently pushes my shoulder, smiling brightly before pushing me out into the dark bar area, saying something about table 27.
You were sitting there, at the bar, talking to Billy, and I avoided your eye contact as I waited on the table. I was scared to see your face, scared to see your reaction when you realized that I worked here with you. You’d hate me, and you’d beg your grandmama to fire me straight away but you know what, I wanted to be here and I wanted to stay with you here, even if that meant breaking your heart. Because I just wanted us to get close again.
While I stood in the kitchen, the head chef, he told me that you had been working here for two weeks, spending much time sleeping in your grandparents’s house next door, and even more time on your hands and knees, keeping the floors and windows clean. Jokingly, he told me that without you, the restaurant would be filthy.
Then (you’d find this hilarious) he handed me my table’s food and sent me away, mumbling how I was a terrible person.
How much did you tell theses people, Cady? That I sucked overall? It was okay. It was dark, it was quiet, and business was slowing down. Your grandmama went to bed, and you were in charge of closing.
It brought up so many old memories of us hanging out here, laying on the table and looking at the ceilings, pretending we were looking at the stars. We were so good at those games of pretend, determined to make these alternate realities better.
What are you going to do now, though, Cady? There are no stars to look at, no alternate realities. Now what?