Status: Everyday updates since it's short!
The Chill Line
Four // The Brick Oven
My best friend’s name is Tegan. She’s my age, which was eighteen at the time, and we’ve known each other since we were pooping in diapers. She knows everything about me, my family tree, my allergies and awkward habits, and I know all about her bluntness, the fact that she's gay, and her tendency to push people’s buttons.
While I worked at the Subhero at the plaza down the road from our houses, she worked at a brick oven pizza place next door to us. That’s why she always came into Subhero on her lunch or dinner break, depending on her shift, and I don’t know how she timed it, but she never came in during a rush. We could joke and laugh about our days while I took my sweet time putting her sandwich together (always the pepperoni and salami six-inch on white bread with pepperjack cheese, toasted).
My manager got to know her on a first-name basis too, and that’s why she never really minded when I let loose a little bit with Tegan. She’d talk to me about her girlfriend from outer space (she really did seem like an alien), and in turn I’d tell her about any annoying customers I had to deal with. We’d buzz about cartoons and comics like we always did, and sometimes she came at the end of my shift so that we could eat together in the lobby of the Subhero.
I got a free six-inch sub, a small drink, and a cookie for every four hours I worked. Without missing a beat I would always make myself a chicken teriyaki sandwich, toasted with provolone, loaded with onions and green peppers, and I’d always get sweet tea and a double-chocolate-chip cookie.
“Oh, I get it. Sweet tea,” Tegan teased me the first time she saw me pour the tea into my free tiny cup, “’cause you’re a sweetie.”
Her tongue between her teeth, she had a look of pure mischief.
So I just stuck my own tongue out at her and didn’t say anything back.
Instead, we ate our food in the lobby amidst a modest chatter of the customers over the easy-listening tunes on the radio above our heads. Those meals were always nice. Tegan is a great friend and she made that summer working at Subhero a little more bearable.
While I worked at the Subhero at the plaza down the road from our houses, she worked at a brick oven pizza place next door to us. That’s why she always came into Subhero on her lunch or dinner break, depending on her shift, and I don’t know how she timed it, but she never came in during a rush. We could joke and laugh about our days while I took my sweet time putting her sandwich together (always the pepperoni and salami six-inch on white bread with pepperjack cheese, toasted).
My manager got to know her on a first-name basis too, and that’s why she never really minded when I let loose a little bit with Tegan. She’d talk to me about her girlfriend from outer space (she really did seem like an alien), and in turn I’d tell her about any annoying customers I had to deal with. We’d buzz about cartoons and comics like we always did, and sometimes she came at the end of my shift so that we could eat together in the lobby of the Subhero.
I got a free six-inch sub, a small drink, and a cookie for every four hours I worked. Without missing a beat I would always make myself a chicken teriyaki sandwich, toasted with provolone, loaded with onions and green peppers, and I’d always get sweet tea and a double-chocolate-chip cookie.
“Oh, I get it. Sweet tea,” Tegan teased me the first time she saw me pour the tea into my free tiny cup, “’cause you’re a sweetie.”
Her tongue between her teeth, she had a look of pure mischief.
So I just stuck my own tongue out at her and didn’t say anything back.
Instead, we ate our food in the lobby amidst a modest chatter of the customers over the easy-listening tunes on the radio above our heads. Those meals were always nice. Tegan is a great friend and she made that summer working at Subhero a little more bearable.
♠ ♠ ♠
:)