The day was nothing short of exhausting. Emotionally, I felt like something big and daunting was after me. Physically, I felt I would crumble.
The weather added to the funk.
For the first time in weeks it rained—flooded. Disastrous to no end. Blocking up the streets, pilling up mounds of litter and mud until it just made the town plain ugly. It was dark and the air was moist and thick and bleak. It felt ridiculous to inquire anything outside of your homes. You'd have to last on whatever water you had and begin fixing meals that consisted on canned foods and rice.
Being a coastal city, this wasn't anything new. The locals practically saw this as a time to rejuvenate. Possibly for the awaiting fall when things would get better again. Even Jane, firstly upset her garden would be submerged, came to a realization that her summer crop was finished and the rain would only prepare the ground for the colder season's produce.
Helplessly—disgustingly, optimistic. A huge turning point from the attitude she normally carried. It was as if our talk at the window carried no importance. I didn't doubt she was resting at night while I replayed every word, every touch.
I like you, I like you too.
And then nothing.
But time. And again, what would that allow us to do?
I tried not to dwell. At some point I knew I was doing it on purpose. Making myself sad, eating slower, lesser. As if my feelings alone could make me full. There was something comforting about sadness even if the thin line began to disperse and became madness. There was something awfully poetic about your subconscious proving yourself right.
Stupid to think something was going to happen. It had to be the pity she had for me. I'm sure of it.
Those were my hourly mantras I pounded at myself, bruising me from the inside. It was destructive indeed but I had known nothing less. Again, that very thought brought more shame. More tears. More urges to scream and throw myself into something heavy. It was painfully perfect how things came about.
Until further notice, that continuous cycle of self scrutiny never faltered. Unfortunately it showed on my face too. Even with trying, my heart was tattooed on my sleeve.
"Are you alright, dear?" It was an older man. Kind eyes, drooping face. Glasses that looked made for a doll. He was wearing a heavy rain coat and boots. The little hair he did have was sticking to his skin. An aroma of worn books and mothballs surrounding him. But that smile was beautiful, nostalgic. Like he had been waiting to give it someone all day even if it was missing a few teeth, yellowing.
"I'm doing fine sir, and you?" I had to remembering my brief training on curtisy; smile and nod.
He shook his head, shoving the few essentials he had on to the conveyor belt. "Just making sure I make it back okay. I'm staying with my daughter for the fourth. Supposed to barbecue and light sparklers but darn nature had other plans." He said so happily, that enthused calmness to his voice never wavering. He leaned over, as if he were trying to see all what I was doing whilst ringing him up, whispering, "I know you're not alright."
The occasional beep flared in my eardrums. Flashlight, cord. "I'm fine, sir." Milk, bread. "Really I am." Coffee, bandages.
He sucked his teeth, twisting around on his toes that caused an obnoxious streak to assault the tiled floors. "You're almost in tears." He noticed.
That made it worse. I sniffled, "That'll be $42.63. Cash or card?"
"Damn capitalism." He remarked, fishing around in his pocket. "Is it your boyfriend, you all broke up?"
I shook my head, scoffing, "The opposite actually."
His eyebrow raised as he reached over, a few bills tucked between his wrinkled fingers. "Ah love. You're in love and it hurts."
"Something like that." Nothing like that. But something does hurt. "Here you go." I handed back over the change along with the receipt.
Zipping up his coat and collecting his bags, he looked outside towards the large windows. The strange winds blowing all kinds of matter in every which way. The tremendous amounts of water sloshing from one side of the pavement to the other. He welcomed it. The corners of his cheeks turned upward, his posture erect.
He looked back to me, who struggled to blink back more tears. Trying not to count down the minutes for when I'd have to see Jane again.
His palm reached over mine, lightly tapping. "It's going to be alright. They'll come around."
I don't know what drove me to say it but I did. "And if they don't? Then what?"
"Then you love yourself more than they ever could." He tapped his fingers again.
I found myself wanting to dive deeper into the topic—more of the what-if's and buts. Confide in him so easily about everything that wasn't alright, everything that would never be. I conjured up a small nod. This time, the tears did fall, uncontrollably intolerable. I didn't wait to wish him a goodbye, a get home safe. I just had to get out of there.
Quickly my feet carried me to the break room. That smell of old coffee and sugar nauseated me. I had to sit down to gain some sort of balance. Even then my eyes poured over, wetting my cheeks in a defenseless stream. This felt so reminiscent, so typical and sickening it only brought more agony to the day.
"Hey hey hey, it's okay." Harpers warm hands pressed my back, rubbing small circles through the polyester vest.
I heaved, trying to get a hold of my heart and lungs and get them to cohesvially acknowledge each other. "I wish people would stop fucking say that!" I felt it was a justified outburst. But I knew I had done wrong when Harper jumped back, eyes wide. She looking like she could burst into tears, too.
"I didn't mean to yell." I recovered, wiping at my leaking eyes.
She played with the little zipper and rocked on her toes. Her platform boots making an annoying clogging noise each time. "What happened?" She asked calmly.
On the table there was a box of tissues sitting next to a jar of candies. I tore one out, causing the whole table to shake. "Nothing." I crumbled.
She huffed, plopping into the seat opposite of mine as she began tearing the wrapper from a Jolly Rancher. "I don't know what you have everyone else in this town on, but I'm not fooled. So I ask again, what is wrong, Florence?" Her voice was firm. That once sweet and chirpy girl had vanished and now I felt I was being scolded by someone's mother.
I sighed. "It's Jane."
"What did she do?" She spat.
Shaking my head, I had very little energy to inform her that she wasn't the one at fault. "I told her I liked her and it backfired a little."
"How so?"
"Doesn't matter."
"So you'd rather mope than to get to the root of the problem." She sucked on the candy, the sweet clanking against her teeth.
"I quite like it this way actually."
She sunk into her chair. I couldn't blame her for trying. I'm sure I looked like a madman running from my post, making ridiculous noises. I wasn't making it any easier on myself. Blend in. Be normal.
Nice one, Florence.
"Jane," She hummed, seeming to figure out how to arrange her words. "Just needs a little push. Y'know? You need to let her know why you're the one."
I was trying to see what everyone saw. Why they were so sure things would work out in my favor.
I scoffed, cleaning up the last of my tears. "I don't think anything could do that and buying her interests doesn't seem very proactive."
"I already told you Jane likes you. She's just holding back and there's nothing wrong with a little encouragement."
I chuckled dryly, playing into her scheme. "What do you suggest?"
"A makeo—"
"No."
"Florence!"
"Harper!" I mocked, throwing my tissue away. I was over it already. I'd rather stand for the rest of my shift waiting for a headache to appear than bond over my sulking.
She crossed her arms and poked out that pierced bottom lip out. "It'll be fun," she motioned to the center of her eyebrows, "and we can clean up that unibrow of yours."
I gasped, covering my forehead. "It is not that bad!" I stomped.
She rolled her eyes and giggled, walking over to me and placing her hands softly on my shoulders. "Well at least come over for a little tlc. Being up in that house with her all the time has to be tiring and I sense you need a break." She wiggled her eyebrows, an obnoxious, sneaky little grin on her face.
I huffed, wondering where my will went. "Fine. But no dye, no nail polish, and no tweezers. I'm proud of my hairy assets."
Humming, "whatever you say. We can leave together after our shifts on Friday." She pulled the handle of the door. Above, the little skylight still showed no signs of the weather letting up. She smiled, cozying up to me. "And I don't want to see anymore tears, missy!"
I held my hands up in surrender, "no promises." I smirked cheekily.
I went to my post and carried on as if nothing happened. The man's words and Harper's engrained in my brain.
It was a new light of looking at things, even if my mind was in an ache, overbearing thoughts still lurking. I was being told I had reason to believe maybe things would be alright. Maybe, just maybe I'd have to allow them to. And it was possible that's what I had been doing wrong all along.
Anyone who could get their car in the parking lot came in with wet clothing, up to the knees in brown water. Anxious, quaking, hopeful looks on their pale faces. Gathering what they could of what was left. Coming to my lonely aisle, ranting yet with all teeth showing and plumped up cheeks, showed no signs or irritation at the forecast.
Quite strange, I believe. The optimism some people have.
Every now and then Harper would come around, some goofy look on her face that I couldn't help but to chuckle at. Just before she'd leave again to go back to her box stacking or rearranging she'd shout: "A smile looks good on you, Florence!" Not caring who was around or how many warnings Lenny gave her.
I carried on. The way you do even when you don't have a choice. The way you do even when you do.
That irksome noise of the automatic doors sounded again. Two pairs of dragging feet following.
"Jane? Is it five already?" I checked the large clock, knowing I had gone fifteen minutes over in the hopes of avoiding things.
The body next to hers belong to Gideon, using the mat beneath his sneakers to rid the skidding noise. He flipped his hair over his forehead, red in the cheeks.
"I was waiting for you in the car when I... ran into your friend." Her eyes hadn't left Gideon who was nervously shifting from one foot to another. "Now I know who that number belonged to."
I gulped, wishing Harper would randomly appear again and save me. "You've met..."
"Florence let's go." She shook out her umbrella, her long sherpa coat complementing her stoic look.
"But," I looked at Gideon apologetically.
"Now!"
I huddled my belongings together, clocking out with one last sympathetic glance to Gid. I was drug out to the car by the arm like a meaningless child. She wasn't happy, to say the least. But somewhere within, this jealously of hers felt insignificant. She didn't get to do that. "What did you say to him."
She backed out carefully, below you could hear the tires fighting the mud. When she didn't respond, I repeated. "What did you say?"
Jane looked over, lips tight and knuckles reddening on the wheel. "Same thing I told you. Don't kiss strangers."