REVERSAL OF FORTUNE
Thanksgiving was at my Aunt Eleanor's, as usual. I always had a good time with my cousins, even though all four of them were way older (like, in their twenties) and all of them were boys. Lisa always had the worst crush on my cousin Sean, but then again, so did a lot of girls. My aunt must have had the patience of a saint, dealing with the constant stream of girls coming and going through her sons' lives.
Aunt Eleanor was my mother's sister, but the two of them were complete opposites in practically every way; from their hair color to their personalities to their commitment to their family.
Needless to say, I thought the world of Aunt Eleanor.
I always thought it was pretty spectacular that my father had been able to maintain a relationship with her after my mother left. I can't imagine it was easy for either of them to have to face one another; their one, big, shared grief hanging over them like a cloud. It's not like we all got together every day or anything, but we'd always try to celebrate the big holidays in one way or another, and we'd manage to see each other a few additional, random times throughout the year.
After dinner, I sacked out on the couch with my cousin Jack, the two of us groaning about how much we'd overeaten. I thanked God that I didn't have to go to work that night, grateful that the store had been closed for the holiday.
The next night, however, was my Friday shift with Trip.
We were almost through with our night, breaking down boxes in the freezing storeroom, when he pulled out a miniature bottle of champagne from his jacket pocket. He'd swiped it from his parents' liquor cabinet, assuming they wouldn't miss the party favor from "Bebe and Eric's Wedding Extravaganza", the gold and white label informing us of the bottle's origins.
I grabbed a couple Dixie cups from the sink in the breakroom, we did a quick perimeter check for Martin, and Trip unscrewed the bottle.
I laughed, "You know champagne is good when there's a screwtop."
He poured some into my cup and said, "Only the best for you, Miss Warren."
He filled his cup, clinked it against mine and I asked, "What's the occasion?"
He answered, "I just figured we should toast the success of our award-winning film."
"Yeah, Trip? We haven't won any awards."
"Yet."
I laughed as he downed his drink in one shot, grimacing and staring at his cup as if it had offended him. I was no connoisseur, but I didn't think it tasted that great either.
"Oof, that's bad." He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the awful aftertaste. Then he poured another cup.
"And," he started in, and I didn't like the tone in his voice, "I also wanted to give myself a proper sendoff."
Oh, God! Was he moving again already?
"What do you mean? Where are you going?" I asked, trying to sound merely curious instead of completely devastated.
He tried to hold back a grin and look properly humble. "Well, I made the team."
I knew he was referring to the travelling hockey team that he'd tried out for weeks before. He didn't allow himself to talk about it too much, but I knew it was a really big deal for him.
"You made the team! That's great! Congratulations. When did you find out?
"Wednesday night. The coach called and asked me if I was available. Can you believe that? Am I available, like I'm Wayne Gretzky or something and might not be able to fit his team into my busy schedule."
"Wow. That's awesome."
"Yeah, yeah it is. I'm pretty psyched. Although..." and his expression turned shamefaced as he tried to break the next news to me gently, "Tonight's my last night working here. I already talked to Martin."
I tried not to deflate too visibly, but damn! He was quitting! Work was going to suck without him there. I realized that things were drastically changing between us; no more Tuesday filming, no more Mondays and Fridays at Totally Videos. "Well, that sucks," I finally stated, before throwing back the rest of my drink.
Every last bit of my designated Trip Time was slipping away. All that was left was the last Saturday football game, because the very next day was homecoming.
***Uh-oh. How is Layla going to land this guy now???***
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