Currently Seeking: A Life

Work is slow today. Jimmy has worked here for just over a week now and we haven't spoken much since he chased my car down. He's always been in the back room cleaning dishes so we haven't had the chance to see each other a lot but today, he's out front with me because Cass has gone on a shopping run.

There are only three customers currently in the cafe and we're a mere thirty minutes from closing so I'm trying to look busy, or assertive, or anything but wallowing. I don't notice when Jimmy moves to stand beside me.

"Hey, stranger." he says, bumping his arm into mine.

"Hey, co-worker-who-should-probably-be-doing-something."

He opens his mouth to reply but I'm flagged down by a man seated in the corner, his coffee mug waving dramatically in the air. From his attire, he must be an office worker heading home early because he's in a pressed shirt and trousers and the thinnest slither of black for a tie. He looks only a few years older than me.

"Coffee girl!" he shouts, indicating pointedly to his mug. "Can I get a refill?"

I dig deep to find what little self respect I have left. Being addressed as 'Coffee Girl' certainly isn't a highlight in my tragically short life but I need this job and I suck it up because it's what we have to do to get through. I shove Jimmy out of the way as gently as I can, head over to the customer, take his mug, trudge back to my station at the counter. All the while I sense Jimmy shadowing my every move as I set about making a fresh batch of coffee, feel his eyes on the back of my head when I walk the mug back to its temporary owner.

I even manage a smile, somehow. I don't get a thank you.

"Is that all?" I ask brightly, internally cringing at myself.

The customer nods. I stand awkwardly over him, wanting to confront him for ignoring common courtesy but I'm torn between doing what's right and what's required of me. He doesn't even glance up from the coffee and his newspaper on the table. I feel my face burn hotter with every passing moment because I can't seem to make my feet move.

"Violet?"

This unfreezes me. Jimmy is calling me over so I steal myself away from the table, scooping up any left over plates or wrappers on empty tables as I go.

I know my face is brighter than the sun when I reach him at the counter but I keep my head down, chin tucked against my chest, as I dump the rubbish into the bin. I just want this day to be over. To avoid having to look Jimmy in the face, I take to picking up random items, making myself appear occupied. I know he is still staring at me, catching glimpses of him from the corner of my eye.

It's five minutes till closing when he speaks up again.

"You see her over there?"

I pause from my eternal wallowing and extensive theory on how best to kill myself with a mug and tea strainer - the only items at my current disposal - long enough to see who he is pointing at; a sculpted, long legged, golden glowing specimen of a female who is exiting the cafe.

"You want to depress me even more? That's so messed up - "

He waves a hand at me impatiently and I fall silent.

"She shits."

I almost choke on the gum that I've been chewing methodically for the past two hours and pretend to dig out the wax from my ear with a finger because I'm certain that I've misheard him.

"Excuse me?"

"She shits." he says again simply.

"I thought that's what you said. Now I'm just trying to figure out why."

He leans against the wall conspicuously, making it downright obvious that he is choosing to people-watch rather than do his job. He couldn't look anymore out of place than he already does though, all long-limbs and wrinkled pink shirt - his apron is tied like a giant baby bib today. I can practically hear Cassandra's exasperated sigh.

He clucks at me in disappointment, like the answer is painfully clear and he's grossly overestimated my level of intelligence.

"We all shit, Violet. You shit, I - forgive me, Grandma - shit, that lady who just left definitely shits. You look up to these people, or you're intimidated by them but look at it like this - we all sit on that pearly white throne and take a big, fat, steaming - "

"OKAY! Point taken."

"I'm just saying. We're all equal in that respect, even the Queen of freaking England has to go sometimes. Do you think she's held it in all these years?"

"I'm not interested in listening to the toilet habits of the royal family - or anyone else, for that matter." I say, roughly pushing past him to go into the back room.

It's not the best place to take comfort - the sound of the dishwasher is loud enough to wake the dead - but it's the only other place I can retreat to so I make the most of it. Jimmy doesn't take the hint though and follows me determinedly through the door, snapping it shut behind him. The sound of remaining customers, though already quiet because of the clunking dishwasher, is blocked out completely.

"Violet, I'm just trying to make you feel better. You have all this doubt about yourself and - "

"And when was it any of your business?" I growl, moving to stare out of the rain-streaked window.

"I can tell. I've watched you working here for a week and it shows."

"Exactly. A week. You've known me for a week. Seven days. Hardly enough time to psycho-analyse someone."

"It kind of freaks me out too, actually." Jimmy says casually, balling up his apron and throwing it neatly onto the counter.

"What does?" I give up, go along with whatever he is up to.

He takes a moment and gives me a slow smile, grateful that I'm no longer on the defensive.

"Everything." he tells me. He hoists himself up onto the counter beside his apron, the backs of his heels bumping into the wood.

"Um...everything?"

"Everything has been done. Someone, somewhere - dead or alive - has been the first to do something. Thinking about it, living in the era that we do, it feels like it's all been done. What can I do first? How can I make an impact? I'm not sure there's anything left. I know how you're feeling, Violet; overwhelmed by the world and realising the difficulty in doing something worthwhile, something that people will be so blown away by."

I turn away from him and press my hands into my face. He keeps talking.

"I think you hate it here."

I hear myself groan in aggravation. My boss' nephew is the last person I want to be consulting with about my future prospects and my current employment at the cafe.

"I'm not here forever. It's not going to last my whole life. I'll move on when I'm ready - "

"And when is that, Violet? You know that old saying. It's easier said than done." he sings, like he is on a children's television show, teaching me about life lessons.

"What are you even trying to do here? Are you on my side or what?"

I spin on my heel to glare at him but hair whips into my face, catching in my mouth and eyes. I splutter ungracefully as I spit it out, seeing him shake his head sadly at me. The motion is so small that I half believe I imagined it. Jimmy jumps down from the counter, stops right in front of me. He looms over me, so much so that I have to tip my head back to stare at him.

"I'm not saying you have to conquer the world. You don't have to be rich or famous or be the person who finally discovers a cure for the common cold to get recognition. It's just a matter of perspective. Being noticed doesn't equate to the whole planet knowing your name." he says softly.

I stumble back - ever ungainly in movement - and hold my hands in the air. "You've known me a week. This is ridiculous. We have to close up, come on."

As I sidestep him to reenter the front of the cafe, his shoulders sag and he exhales loudly, watching me with dissatisfaction. The customers have all left and Cass has sent me a message to say she'll be heading straight home after shopping but we remain silent as we clean up, only uttering a mumbled goodbye when we go our separate ways home.