After losing her job and her girlfriend, it's time for Annie Abraham to admit defeat and move back in with her parents. She has hardly been back to her tiny Montana hometown since the unforgettable summer before her senior year of college, when she...
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Honestly, there's not much to it. Laurel's stressing her ass off about Jessica leaving tomorrow but after shadowing Ruth on the register for an hour and watching Bobby put stock out and trailing Laurel around the store like a cartoon animal following the scent of a pie, I'm feeling confident.
"You're gonna be fine," Bobby says as he neatens a table of recommendations. He's a tall, gangly guy about my age who has my gaydar pinging instantly, though I can't put my finger on why. He just has an essence. "After all, it's not like you'll ever be alone. Ruth and I are both here all weekend, you've got me on Mondays, and you've got Laurel on Wednesdays."
"I'm not worried. What's the worst that can happen?" I say with a shrug.
"Exactly. That's my motto," he says. "Laurel can be a bit of a stress head, but I get it. This place is her baby. Sometimes we have to remind her that, you know, she has an actual baby and this place is in good hands when she's not here."
"Even better now that I'm here," I say, and then I hear what I said. "Wait, that wasn't a dunk on Jess. That sounded rude. I was just being an arrogant shit."
Bobby laughs and says, "Chill, it's cool. Laurel warned us about your sense of humor."
"Shit, is it that bad? She has to warn people?"
"Stress head, remember."
I know all about Laurel's stress levels. The three months we spent together may not have been that long a time, but it was a pretty hectic point in her life. She doesn't like it, but she has cried in my arms. I soothed many an emotional crisis, everything from the loud explosions to the quiet implosions, when she would crumple and I would hold her.
"What's the deal with you guys?" Bobby asks, pulling me from my thoughts, my eyes on the back room where Laurel is currently doing admin with Ava napping in her stroller next to her.
"Sorry, Bobby, I don't know you well enough yet to know if that's something Laurel would want me discussing," I say.
"Fair enough. Hey, I know you haven't officially started yet, but do you wanna ring up your first sale?" He nods at the register, a woman approaching it with a couple books in one hand, a mug and a board game in the other. Ruth's busy sorting out an order that arrived thirty minutes ago, Bobby and me the only people on the floor.
"Sure. Let's do this."
I do it. The world doesn't end. It's easy. The customer is satisfied, and so is Bobby.
"You're a natural," he says. It's stupid how proud I feel. I've worked for the last eleven years but anyone would think I've never had a job before, the way I get so excited over completing a single sale. The store's point of sale system is pretty clean and self-explanatory, and there's what Bobby calls the book of magic under the counter – a slim folder of the store's standard operating procedures, mostly typed up with a few handwritten addendums in Laurel's slant.
