Sundays are mildly tolerable at the diner. There's less people to serve, because it's Sunday and they all prefer to go eat somewhere less depressing and dirty; Scott is in a good mood because he has his boys night on Saturdays, meaning poker and strippers; and, the weekend cook is at least nice – then again, it doesn't take much to be nicer than Greg. All that together makes Sundays at work good enough for my mood to be lifted the slightest. Not enough to be happy, but enough not to want to smash my head against the glass door of the diner every time I get to work.
As I neared Ben's door, I heard his voice. He was on the phone again. I wonder how come he moved here without his girlfriend, because, clearly, he can't stay more than a few hours without hearing from her.
I haven't talked to him since that night when he pretty much profiled me at the bus stop. It's rare that someone notices me enough to see behind the curtain. As a matter of fact, I don't think anyone ever has. You know that feeling you get when you reappear on the radar of humanity after having gone AWOL for years – that's what I felt when Ben mentioned my singing. I only sing when I'm sure no one can hear me, and since there are only two apartments on my floor, it's really easy. I just never considered someone could be listening and even make something of it.
"You have a really nice voice, by the way," Ben told me that night, while we walked home, "and you sing with such a passion that it's almost heartbreaking, given the songs' themes." Most of them are sad or at any rate talk about broken dreams and difficult lives. "It's not about the voice, it's about the story behind it. Like I said, photography teaches you to read people, and what I read when I look at you, or rather, listen to you sing, is broken dreams that you think are gone, but they're not. Someone like you, JoJo, is worth much more than a filthy diner."
It's not the first time I hear I have potential, my teachers and all told me the same, but coming from a complete stranger that has nothing to gain from it neither is compelled to give me pep talks (teachers are, due to professional bias, pretty much forced to), it sounds completely different. It's not some old lady that's known me my whole life, it's some random guy with whom I've barely spoken.
Beware, I'm not saying there is some sort of weird connection between us just because he appreciates my singing. I'm not about to go off on how he must be my soul mate and how am I gonna die if I don't end up spending the rest of my life with him. I'm just saying that, I don't get that often. Someone actually seeing me behind all the layers. If he understood so much just by listening to me sing, I wonder what would happen if we grew close. Not that I want or need to, just ... wondering, that's all.
Yawning, I unlocked the door, already hearing my kittens scratch it, eager to get dinner. Poor babies, I leave them alone most of the day. "Yes, yes, I know, you're hungry ..." I grumbled as I made my way to the kitchen, Reese and Shaw on tow, "you should feel lucky you have a home, so many strays starving and you complain about the quality of your tuna." I scoffed, reaching for the cabinet where I keep their food. Only 2 things I spend a lot on: my books, and the kitten's food. Cats are haughty, they want what they want, so it's either that very specific brand and that specific type of food, or hunger strike. Obviously, no faucet water, needs to be the cool store-bought one that's in the fridge.
Reese and Shaw barely gave me time to put food and water in their bowls that they jumped to it. I fell back against the wall with a heavy sigh, to check my phone. Predictably, there was a missed call from my mom, who, after all this time, still doesn't remember my work hours hence calls me when I can't answer. There were a couple of pics from Faith and Hope as well, just the twins enjoying themselves in Aspen. The last one was peculiar. It wasn't just the two blondies, there was a third one. Faith and Hope were hugging a guy that looked just a bit older than them. I didn't even need to read the text: blonde, early 30s, pretty hot, eyes as blue as theirs ... Nathan Hill, Faith and Hope's older brother.
Nathan – Natey, as his sisters call him, much to his dismay –, is the exact type of guy that would intimidate me. I never met him, but his looks say it all: successful, self-confident, handsome ... the exact opposite of me, my worst nightmare when I was in school. That's why I don't understand why his sisters are so adamant on setting us up.
The text Faith sent me with the photo read: Natey is so excited to meet you! I sighed, inevitably, already prefiguring the awkwardness of a meeting none of us really wants. I'm sure "Natey" has better things to do than waste his time like this. But, it's hard to say no to Faith. She's the dominant one of the twins, always finds a way to get what she wants, but I'm way more stubborn than she can handle ... so when she fails, she sends Hope to guilt trip me.
Having left Reese and Shaw to eat alone, I opened the fridge, hoping it would be less empty than yesterday, but, surprise surprise, it wasn't. Working at the diner doesn't leave me much time to go grocery shopping, mostly because I always end up doing overtime on my 12-hour shift; plus, I don't really cook, so ... takeaway it is. Luckily there's a great pizzeria nearby. Needless to say, I ordered pizza. Actually, didn't even need to say much, I just sent a text: the usual. They already know full well what I order. Predictably, the reply came right away: 20 mins tops, Joy. The thing about having a name so prone to nicknames, is that everyone changes it to how they want. Joe calls me Joy to mark a difference between my name and his, he said, and, because I don't smile much, so I'm such a "joy". I always get that. You don't smile, you don't talk, why are you so quiet, are you ok? Just because I'm not hyper and happy all the time, doesn't mean there's something wrong with me, you know.
I mean, sure, my life sucks, but I'm not always miserable. Quoting Jane Eyre, I'm not unhappy. I'm happier on my own, that's for sure. People are complex and complicated and so much hard work. Even only the twins tire me out. Then again, Faith and Hope Hill would tire out anyone. I always wonder how are we even friends, and I'm sure everyone else does when they see us together.
I went to take a quick shower, aware that the only thing I can be certain of in my life, is that Joe is never late. And in fact, the minute I stepped out of the shower, I heard someone knocking on my door. "I'm coming!" I shouted, trying to get dressed at the speed of light, which, let me tell you, is not a piece of cake when you're largely overweight as I am. But I managed.
When I opened the door, however, I remained petrified. There was pizza, alright, but it wasn't Joe. "Pizza is always the answer, huh? I can't disagree." Ben commented with a light chuckle, reading the writing on my t-shirt. I blushed, obviously. "I heard you were home, thought we could split this giant pizza," he said, pointing at the box in his right hand, while the other held two cans of beer. How to tell the him that, one, I already ordered my dinner and I never ever share my food, two ... I don't drink, at all. Or at least not with people around me. Can't risk losing control and making a fool of myself.
Ben stepped inside without me saying a word, a warm smile etched on his lips. "I take that as a yes." He said, placing pizza and beer onto my coffee table, and sitting on my couch. I was at a loss for words. Even more when Reese and Shaw curiously went to him, sniffed him a little bit, then started purring around his legs, especially Shaw. My cats are asocial like me, since when do they show such affection towards anyone that isn't me? A stranger even? "So? Aren't you hungry?" Ben asked me, patting the seat beside him.
"I ..." I murmured, blinking my eyes repeatedly. Am I dreaming? Did he come to the wrong apartment? We've barely spoken a few words since he got here, now he suddenly feels free to invade my home like this. Not even my only 2 friends dare.
"I swear, there's no pineapple." Ben chuckled, opening the pizza box. "I know some people like it, but," he grimaced, "I hate it. Don't tell me you-"
"No." I blurted out, feeling my cheeks redden more.
"Great." He took a slice, then put it back, grimacing a little. He looked around, and once he'd eyed the paper towel roll on the kitchen counter, he stood, and went to grab it. I followed him with my eyes all the time, utterly baffled. "Come here, JoJo, I don't bite." Oh, so he didn't come to the wrong place. I didn't move, though. Ben turned to me, and cracked a small smile. He stood up, and walked to me, stopping a few inches away.
I took in his features. He looked a bit disheveled, hair ruffled, light stubble – the kind you leave on a day like Sunday, when you don't go to work –, kind of nerdy glasses on his nose. Oh, wait. Glasses? I mean, I'm used to people wearing glasses out of trend, but his looked as real as mine. He was unkempt, the kind of look you have when you've been home all day and don't care about appearance. But he was still cute. The glasses especially made him cuter.
"Joanna?" Ben called me back to Earth. He was perusing me, yet not amused by my inability to speak a word. He seemed a bit concerned. "I shouldn't have barged in like this, I know," he admitted, curling his lips, "I just thought ... it's been a week and you're my only neighbor, it's about time we get to know each other." I blinked my eyes again, my lips parting to speak, but I didn't know what to say. Luckily, a knock on the door behind me saved me.
"Hey, Joy!" Joe greeted cheerfully, coming in. "Sorry, I'm a bit late, some idiot made me fall and the pizza was ruined, and I didn't want to-oh ..." he stopped the moment he saw Ben, I bet thinking the same as anyone would: a man? In Joanna Brooks' apartment? Is the world coming to an end?
"Hello," Ben greeted with a cheerful smile, extending his hand to shake Joe's, "I'm Ben, JoJo's new neighbor."
Joe blinked his eyes. Joe is a 17-year-old boy that's really just as nerdy and awkward as me, which is the whole reason why we get along well, despite the age difference. He's pretty much the brother I never had, which is why sometimes he even comes over for dinner and we watch a movie together. He knows the kind of life I lead and he doesn't judge me for it, because it's the exact same as his. "I'm ... Joe." He said, still dumbfounded. It was probably a miracle that he didn't drop my order.
"Nice to meet you, Joe." Ben claimed gleefully, grabbing said order – embarrassingly big for 1 single person, by the way –, and placed it next to his on the coffee table. "Thank you," he took out his wallet, "how much is it?"
"Uh ... no, Joy already ... I mean, Joanna doesn't pay."
I bit my lips, embarrassed. He meant I don't pay on Sundays. His uncle, the pizzeria's owner, said I'm such a great client that I can have anything I want for free once a week. It pretty much implies that I eat pizza all the time, which is kind of a subtitle for 'oh that's why she's so fat'. Heard that one before, yes. When, like me, you're not graced with a nice frame, anything you eat is watched carefully, or at least I always felt like everyone watched me eat and judged me for my eating habits. I know my cousins and aunts did.
Ben, however, was surprised but still, not amused. "Oh, ok," was all he said, then put back his wallet. "Well, time for dinner." He smiled. "Joe, would you like to stay?"
"I would, but ..." the 17-year-old glanced at me, suspicious and mildly amused as, slowly, an impish grin made its way to his lips, "I've got other deliveries to make." No, he didn't. He just thought oh, she finally found a man, can't spoil this miracle of the century. To no use were my pleading looks, Joe winked at me, then left, closing the door behind him.
"Well?" Ben invited. "I can't eat all this by myself."
How do I politely ask him to leave? I don't know him and I hate having people over when I'm eating – again, big girl eating, it's easy to feel like a pig when someone's watching –, plus I came from a tiring week and this was the only day when I actually got off early.
"So, what do you want to watch?" Ben asked me, turning the TV on. Shaw went to seat on the couch's arm beside him. I guess if even my cat likes him ... I could try.
Slowly, I marched to the couch, sat down, and grabbed the remote from his hands – careful not to brush his skin, obviously –, so that I could go to my selection. "I ... I was going to rewatch Infinity War."
"Great! I love Marvel!"
I couldn't help but smile the slightest. I guess at least we have something in common. I exhaled lowly, nodding, and started the movie, praying I could go on a couple of hours without embarrassing myself and at the same time trying not to think that this looked so much like a date. Then again, what would I know about dates?