Parfait (n) 1. a rich cold dessert made with whipped cream, eggs, and fruit. 2. perfect (linguistics)
All Summer wanted was a peaceful summer with her friends and study her dream major in the upcoming fall. Instead, she got a job at the local ice cr...
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The shift at Parfait might have been the worst in my entire career. It doesn't say a lot, I know, but it has been an intense month. I thought I was handling it well, especially since I was in cleading duty and didn't have to deal with people, but then the old man that buys chocolate cake behind his wife's back asked me if I'm alright and told me I should get some sleep. After that, I noticed some of the customers were shooting me worried looks every time they caught sight of me.
I'm in my living room now, watching Friends with Eliza. I tried to get her to watch something new but she said most new shows are stupid and she'd rather watch season 1 Joey than teenagers being in love triangles.
"At least you're going to get your paycheck soon," Eliza says before biting down her ice cream.
She's a sociopath, I know.
"You're really bad at comforting people," I mumble.
Eliza clears her throat. "I'm not good at the advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?"
I let out a sigh. She's never going to let go of this show. "You're not good at those either."
Eliza shrugs and takes another bite of her ice cream. I shiver at the sight.
"Anything new from Gabriel?" she asks.
I grab my phone from the coffee table and swipe my finger on the screen even though I know there are no new messages.
"No. He told Jason's parents that he hasn't seen him since the club and that's the last I heard from him."
Eliza winces. "That must have not gone well."
"At least they can start searching for him now," I reply. "If only the police here was good ."
Eliza shakes her head. "That's not fair. Not all cops are dirty, Summer. Some are really doing their best."
I huff. "And yet they let a handful of people distribute drugs just so they can get even richer."
"Most of them are threatened to do so," Eliza says. "Does Jason love doing it?"
My shoulders fall. "Okay, you're right."
Eliza puts her feet on the coffee table. "I'm always right."
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, righ-" I stop myself but Eliza chuckles.
"See? Jason is going to be okay and Alex is going to come around, end of story."
I glance at her. "You say that but you weren't there. He's gone, Eliza, gone."
I bite the inside of my cheeks. Whenever I think of Alex, I'm confident I'm the saddest person in the world. Then my rational side smacks my overdramatic self and reminds me of all the people who have it worse. Like Jason.
