Page 11 of Not Until Her
If I could survive on drinking Pepsi all day long, that’s what I would reach for in my fridge. Unfortunately, the amount of caffeine does nothing to energize me these days, which is the downside of my little addiction. I remember when one can would make me wired and jittery. I miss it.
I’m not the biggest coffee fan, I only drink it when I have no other options. Although tea doesn’t exactly taste the best, it doesthe trick when I throw in three bags at a time. Sometimes I spice it up with sugar, or honey, or fruit flavored syrup.
It’s a cold morning, so I fill my electric kettle and pull out a box of tea that smells like cinnamon and vanilla. Maybe it’s a controversial opinion to have, but I think smelling tea is always better than drinking it.
If only that gave me the boost I require.
My chilly hardwood floors have the cold seeping through my fuzzy rainbow socks. What I miss most about living with another adult is that there was a chance they could turn the heater on before I got out of bed. Caleb usually did, and despite his many faults, it was appreciated.
It would help if I had Amelia pick out some rugs for the space, but I always forget how necessary they are until I’m actually standing in my kitchen and making my hot tea.
Which means I remember every day, just not for very long.
It takes a few seconds for me to realize that my usual silent morning isn’t silent. The sound of footsteps from outside the door reaches my ears. Low, mumbling voices, and the occasional laugh. It’s not only the fact that people exist out there that takes me by surprise, but the time of day. These were prime sleeping hours for the kids that used to live next door.
My curiosity leads me to my window, the one overlooking the large front patio that connects the two apartments. I push the curtain aside, just the smallest crack to avoid being spotted. I want to have the one up on my new neighbor, by knowing what to expect from them before they get their first impression of me. I tend to get very mixed reactions when people meet me for the first time. They either think I’m the most adorable teenager they’ve ever seen, or way too immature for my grown age.
I can’t even blame them. Being mature is overrated.
The first thing I see is the back of a man’s head. His hair is a mix of differing shades of gray. There’s someone sitting in achair–my chair, actually–whose face I can’t see either, because they’re facing away from me. Long, shimmering, golden blonde hair falls over their shoulder, and I see the side of what appears to be black sunglasses. I’m led to believe there’s someone facingthem, but the man must be perfectly blocking them from my view. I back away, not feeling like being a total creep today. I’m sure I’ll have a chance to introduce myself soon. I usually wouldn’t care about doing it right this moment, but I haven’t fixed the bedhead I no doubt have, and I’m still feeling grumpy about the cold.
If they’re still checking things out, or moving things, or whatever they’re doing this afternoon, then I’ll introduce myself on my way out to work.
My phone chirps on the kitchen counter, and I jump like I’ve been caught. I huff a breath, hating how easily sounds do it to me.
Destiny:I have a headache. Can’t come in today.
I scowl at the screen. Destiny has a headache every other week. I want to ask if she’s heard of Excedrin, but I’m a nice boss. A cool boss. I’m the manager they actually want to work with most of the time.
Funny how that results in more of them calling out on my days. I don’t get it. Jenna, my co-manager, is terrifying. I can tell that working with her makes our employees nervous, but telling her that they can’t make it at all must be scarier somehow.
Reya:Did you ask Macy or Paige if they could take your shift?
I already know she didn’t. She’s going to say she did, but Paige will confirm for me tonight that she didn't hear from her.
Every. Other. Week. We play this game.
Destiny:They said they can’t.
Reya:Feel better.
But what I really mean, underneath those two words, is that I hope she quits soon so I can play a different game. I’m bored of this one.
Working a thirteen hour day instead of my usual eight or nine means nothing for my paycheck. Coming in early to cover someone’s shift doesn’t benefit me in any way. Making a set salary has its ups and downs for that reason. I get paid enough to typically make up for moments like these, but it’s hard not to dwell when it happens.
And it feels like a waste. One of our employees could use the extra money, but none of them ever want to come in on their days off. Not that I can blame them for that. I’m wholly unavailable to them when Dahlia is here and not at school. When she’s with me, that place is the least of my concerns. Hence the reason Jenna is my co-manager instead of the Assistant Manager. She needs to be able to take care of every last detail in my absence.
In case of an emergency, when the two of us have something going on, or we get sick at the same time, there’s a part time guy. Henry can mostly hold the fort down, but I’ve definitely had to run over to the store in my pajamas and a face mask to assist him once or twice.
I sigh, frustrated with the lack of time I’ll now have to get my day started. Her shift starts in less than an hour.
I attempt to sip on my tea as I walk right back to my bedroom in search of an outfit to wear. It’s a bad idea, because more of it sloshes into my mouth than I intended, and the hot liquid burns my tongue and my chin as it drips down.
This is great.
This is fine.
I set the mug down on my dresser, fully knowing it might leave a ring on the wood and I’ll be whining about that later. Right now, I don’t have time to care.