Fake It Like You Matter

Sometimes it felt like I was the only normal person I knew. My family was so dysfunctional that I couldnt figure out how I managed to turn out as well as I did.

Thats exactly what was running through my mind a few weeks after my graduation, and one week after my 18th birthday. That and 'Why is the universe against me?'

"Love, sweetheart," My father continued after sitting me down in one of the two leather armchairs in the office he practically lived in when he wasnt at his law firm, "I know you dont need therapy, but your mother thinks its a good idea."

I furrowed my brow at the word mother, and knew he saw it.

"Sorry. I know youve never really seen Diana as a mother, but she practically raised you," This was his clueless attempt at backtracking.

"I had a mother, actually, and she did fine with me, but maybe you forgot about that." I glared at my knees, "I didnt even meet Diana until I was nine years old, and you know she paid Rosita to take care of me, so dont try and give me that bull shit."

"Love, watch your language." He warned, and narrowed his eyes at me. "You will go to your appointment with Dr. Adams, whether you think you need it or not. As long as you are living in my house, you will live by my rules."

I pushed myself out of his chair and was almost out of his office when he yelled after me.

"...And no more tattoos!"

I knew he was doing the best he could, but he wasnt about to win any parent of the year awards. His idea of active parenting was holding these weekly meetings in his office, in which he usually requested I take up some new activity to please my stepmother. It was almost always something dull or mildly retarded, like a scrap booking group, but occasionally it wasnt too bad. Thats how I wound up in piano, judo and yoga classes, and I wasnt complaining about those. However, I could have done without the frequent inquiries these meetings offered as to weather or not I was doing drugs.

As if, Dad. As. Fucking. If.

I grabbed a banana on my way out the door, jumped on my skateboard and fumed all the way to work, not even caring how crazy my curly red hair had probably blown on the way. I rarely had much control of it anyways. Instead I tried to think about the warmth of the summer sun on my freckled face, but it wasnt as comforting today as I usually found it. My mind was somewhere else.

Therapy. They were sending me to therapy. I was the only normal one in the house and they were making me see a shrink!

It was only 6 in the morning, the second week of July and I was on my way to one of the busiest Starbucks in Chicago. I had been a barista there for three years, the longest of anyone other than my manager turned friend Jessa, and even though I loved my job, I was not looking forward to the morning rush. Mondays were always the worst.

"Love, whats wrong?" Jessa asked, the moment I walked through the door.

"Lets talk later, alright?" I mumbled, stowing my board in the back, tying my green apron around my waist and plastering on a smile, just in time for the doors to open. "Hi, welcome to Starbucks..."

Jessa had been the only person in my life that I actually had to talk to for the last few years. I'd worked with her since I was a few days shy of 15 and I trusted her. She was pretty much the only person looking out for me, and I really appreciated her.

Three hours had passed and the morning rush was finally dying down.

"Grab this next one, then well break together." She instructed, and I smiled gratefully.

"Hi there. Welcome to Starbucks," I recited lazily, not even looking up, "What can I get for you today?"

"A venti hazelnut mocha please, Love," The guy said, causing me to finally look up at him.

I was sure I'd never met him, but he looked oddly familiar. I wondered if maybe hed gone to my school, then dismissed that thought. No way, Id definitely have remembered those gorgeous brown eyes. But he knew my name

"Do I know you?" I asked softly, tilting my head to the side.

He shook his head and smiled, which made my stomach flip over, then shrugged, "You're wearing a name tag. Pretty sweet name though."

"Oh, Thanks." I smiled a bit and blushed down at the cash register, "Venti, Hazelnut, Mocha...Thats $4.66."

He handed me a five dollar bill, and I noticed he had chipped black nail polish on his fingernails. He didnt want the change, so I dropped it into the tip jar, and wrote his order on the venti cup.

"...what was your name?" I asked, my pen poised on the cup. I could pretend it was still busy enough to need his name, right?

"Pete."

"Pete." I repeated and wrote it down on the cup, "It'll be up for you in just a minute."

"Thanks Love." He smiled his unbelievable smile once more making my tummy flip flop, and when he turned away, I hastily scribbled my name and number onto his cup, too, hoping he'd notice it.

"Tiff, take over for Love." Jessa called and I ducked into the back to ditch my apron.

"I saw that, by the way. Very smooth with the number thing." She said, tossing her apron next to mine, "But he was pretty cute."

"Ive never done anything like that before." I clasped my hands to my warm cheeks, "Ohhh, Jessa...do you think he'll see it?"

"He already did." She smirked and went to grab a snack.

I peeked out of the back just in time to see him walk out, grinning from ear to ear.