❝I know it's hard for you to be friends with a girl without objectifying her - but lucky me, not everyone's you!❞
❝Oh yeah. 𝙁𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨. The lady goth protest too much.❞
❝𝘿𝙤𝙩𝙝, Gavin. Doth.❞
→ From Van Zandt family disappointment and Grade 8...
Her name tag read Dijana, but I wasn't sure of the pronunciation, so I never said it. Instead, I smiled. "Good! Good. And you?"
She waved her hand dismissively like the question was appreciated but unnecessary. The sleeves of her uniform shirt stretched across her bony wrists and her black hair fell over her eyes. It made her look tired.
When Dijana gave me my change, she handed me a piece of paper. A flyer in black and white, with bad handwriting and bubble letters at the top. Customer Appreciation X-Mas Eve Party. The original attempt at appreciation was scribbled out. Appreechiashon.
"All regulars invited," she said warmly.
My eyes were wide and my frequenting this place suddenly felt like responsibility. "Oh. Um..."
The boy chasing his friend was caught at the back of the shirt by his mother, like a cub held by its scruff.
"Mom!" he whined, struggling to get away.
Dijana hugged him around his shoulders with a tight squeeze as he looked at me. "My Zigmund made the flyers. He's so talented!"
"You made me!" he said, straining to escape. I couldn't see it for sure, but I had a feeling his friend was just out of sight, mocking him. "And you didn't know how to work the copy machine!"
He twisted away and out the door of the store, and I barely caught sight of him tackling his friend.
"Bring a friend! We'll have plenty of food for everybody," she said after a deep, frustrated sigh toward her son.
"I, um..." I fought the arguments, despite knowing the holiday festival was the same day. Also, there was the slightest sting from knowing there weren't any friends that came to mind who'd go with me. "I might have plans, but I'll try."
She smiled and seemed like she was about to say something when another customer walked in. I took my candy, my coffee, and my change and got out of dodge as fast as possible.
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Sydney still kind of reminded me of my grandma — and that was the furthest thing from a compliment I could think of. It wasn't quite that my mom's mom was evil, but there was an unwavering meanness to her. A cutting criticism my mother and uncle inherited and passed on to Liberty, Danny, and me in ever-changing and increasingly insidious ways. Sydney kind of encapsulated all of that — the type of judgments that came with a constantly moving finish line.
She asked Craig to turn the tree a very specific amount, so he and Joey did. It jostled in a way the made me wince, like it'd topple and crash on all of Sydney's nice decorations. On second thought, I kind of hoped it did, just for the chaos of it all.
I sat with Emma and her baby brother Jack as we played War with a worn, dog-eared deck of cards. Emma was winning, her stack of cards piling as mine dwindled, but I wasn't paying much attention, instead side-eyeing the situation from across the room.
