by Adriana Peck
Nancy looks back over at me, smiling.
“I’m still glad we did this, Jake,” she says. “I had a real good time with you tonight. Really.”
I return her smile.
“I’m glad we did, too.”
Nancy looks down, pulls her phone out of her pocket. She checks the time, and I can see from her backlight that it’s almost eleven o’clock.
“Whoah,” Nancy says. “Hey, I think I should probably head out. I’ve got to be back at the café in the morning, opening shift.”
I nod. “I’ll walk you back to your car.”
She beams. “I’d like that.”
We collect the rest of our trash, scooping it into the cardboard box as I slam my truck bed hatch shut. I take the trash from Nancy, tucking it under my arm as we start the walk back to her little four-door sedan. She leads the way, and I follow alongside her, occasionally stealing glances at her. She looks stunning tonight, I should’ve told her that before I offered to get engaged.
When we finally reach her car, a little all-white sedan just like she said, Nancy turns to face me.
“Aside from that…unique plan of yours, I had a really good time with you tonight,” she says to me, and I know she’s expecting me to carry it forward.
“You wanna do this again?” I ask, taking another shot in the dark.
Nancy shrugs, grinning. “I don’t know when Nigel and Nora are going to put on another fundraiser, but if they do, I’ll see you then.”
“How about something you and I plan?”
Nancy nods, her smile never faltering. “I’d like that.”
I reach into my pocket, pull out my cell.
“Here. Put your number in. I’ll call you sometime.”
Nancy takes my phone from me, enters in her contact information before handing it back over to me.
“I’ll see you around, Jake,” she beams.
I nod, taking a step back as she gets into her car and starts the engine. Her tail lights turn white, and I take another step back as she pulls out of the grassy lot in reverse. I give her a wave, which Nancy returns before driving off.
I sigh, looking up at the night sky one last time.
I really ought to learn some of those constellations sometime.
I head back to the factory, pop inside as I see the town getting ready to shut it all down. Booths close up, the lights are off, the live music’s been over for a while now. I guess Nancy and I were talking for a few good hours out there.
I find a trash can close to the door, toss my cardboard box of trash inside before stepping back outside.
As I walk back to my truck, I can’t help but feel like Nancy and I turned a page tonight.
My fake-fiancée plan was silly, I’ll admit. It just came to me tonight, in the heat of the moment. But I think it’s something to consider. Maybe Nancy’ll change her mind after a while, but I can’t bet on that happening.
But regardless, she had a good time tonight. She told me as much.
At the end of the day, that’s all that matters.
I pull out my phone, check my contacts.
Sure enough, there’s a new entry. ‘Nancy Callahan’ is the most recent contact, and she even put a little smiley face next to her name. I’m smitten, I’ll admit it. And it looks like she is, too, despite my weirdo plan I’d thrown at her.
Maybe it’s a sign.
I hop into my truck, key the ignition as the motor roars to life. A second later I’m on the road, heading home.
Nine
Nancy
The day of work following the fundraiser is easily the worst day of my adult working life.
First, we run out of coffee. It’s bad.
And not in a sense like, ‘I have to grind up more beans.’ No. More like, ‘there aren’t any coffee beans here, Nora’s still at home and I’m the only one here so we can’t run to the grocery store.’
That kind of bad.
I plug in a pot of decaf coffee and put a sign up on the door explaining the situation, hoping for the best. The customers who come in afterwards still ask for caffeinated coffee, but they’re more than understanding about the situation. I serve up the the coffee as decaf for the rest of the day.
Then a gaggle of tourists show up, a family of rude out of towners who can’t appreciate that I’m the only working hostess this afternoon. They’re all overweight, furiously angry people whose faces go red as they bark out their orders to me. All in all, the terrible table fills ten customers, and I breathe a massive sigh of relief when they’re finally gone from the café a full hour later.
Immediately after the family leaves, Don drops a stack of plates. I rush back to the kitchen, help him sweep up the mess as more customers flock inside. When I look out the partition window, I can see the entire café’s packed to the gills out there. The tables are all full-up, the booths all packed. Families start sitting at the counter, and before I know it, I’m completely surrounded.
I groan, washing my hands in the kitchen sink as I scurry back out the the front of the house.
A little while after that, Nora calls me in the middle of my rush, asking me why I left the concession’s stand tip jar unguarded at the end of my shift at the factory last night. I slap my forehead, having completely forgotten that part of my job last night. I never put the money back in the cart, I never told Nora I was leaving for the night. She has the money, she took care of my cart. But she’s upset, and I know I messed up bad. But with everything else going on, I can’t even begin to focus on my boss’s words over the phone.
“Nora, I’m sorry. Really.”
Nora sighs. “At least you’re apologizing,” she says.
“You think you can run by the grocery store on the way here, pick up some more coffee?”
“What?”
“The café ran out of regular coffee. All I have to serve is decaf. People are getting antsy.”
Nora chides me on not calling her earlier about the coffee situation, and I look at the clock eagerly. It’s not even noon. I still have five hours to go until the end of my shift when Nora can come by and relieve me. And her trip to the grocery store might take her a while, so I’ll have to stick around even longer than I usually do.
Great.
The customers keep pouring in, and I guess Paul was right the other day: maybe tourist season is coming back to Twin Orchards.
Which just makes my life all the more difficult.
And, speaking of, Paul the mechanic shows up a little after one. But I don’t even have time to make pleasant conversations with one of my favorite regulars. Barry shows up a few minutes after Paul, and I wish I had just a moment to stop by and check in, talk about last night with Jake. But I’m too busy with the rush of tourists, and I scurry to get all their orders out on time.
Don’s been working overtime in the back, the two of us churning out order after order as we rush to get everyone taken care of in the café. Paul and Barry give my sympathetic looks, and I take their orders from memory and rush them back to Don.
I look up at the clock again, hoping this day’s almost over.
Three o’clock.
Two more hours of this madness.
I buckle down, steeling myself as I dive head-first into the rest of my afternoon rush.
◆◆◆
When Nora shows up at five to relieve me, I’m an exhausted wreck. I can barely muster up another apology to her when she arrives with the oversized bag of coffee beans from the grocery store.
“Just don’t let it happen again, Nancy,” Nora says.
I nod, exhausted. I hope she can see the mess I’ve been through today. I want to show her the register, show her just how busy we’ve gotten today. But I’m too tired to make the effort. I just want to go home and crash.
Nora looks around the diner, taking in the sights around her.
“You need to do a better job cleaning up after your shift,” Nora says coldly.
I nod, completely sapped of the energy I need to get upse
t. “Yes, ma’am.”
“See you tomorrow, Nancy. Try harder, won’t you?”
And with that, I leave the café without another word to Nora.
When I get in my car, I grab my steering wheel and start to cry. I can’t help it. Everyone’s expecting so much from me, and I can’t even take a minute to catch my breath.
All the favors to Nora, gone unappreciated. I gave her years of my life to help her café run with minimal staff, and I’m thanked with lunch rushes and an ungrateful boss.
All my regular customers, who elect to sit back and watch in horror as my life speeds up for eight hours straight. Even Pete and Barry couldn’t muster up an ‘I’m sorry,’ or ‘that sucks’ just to throw my way.
All the tourists, jamming up my day. Jamming up my life, if this tourist season is really upon us again.
Everything’s just so overwhelming, and I feel the tears start to flow.
I lean my head on my steering wheel, just letting it all out as I weep.
I want out.
I want to run and hide away from the world forever.
I never wanted to work with customers. I never wanted to be stuck here in Twin Orchards forever.
Jake had the right idea. Skip town as soon as possible. Get out while you still can, before the rumor mill sucks you dry, while you’re still ahead.
Now that I think about things, I really was wrong about him.
Everyone told me he was bad news, and I believed them.
But when everyone else becomes your problem, who do you turn to? You turn to the one they said was different, the one who flat-out refuses to play their game.
I remember giving Jake my number last night. I wish I had his. I’d call him, ask him how his day’s going. Because that’s what I really need right about now.
I fish my keys out of my pocket, try to start my engine. I can’t find the slot for the key and I feel myself growing more and more frustrated with each passing second. I’m angry, tired, upset, and I feel myself starting to cry even harder as I slam my keys down on the dash.
With my head in my hands, I feel my whole world crashing down on me.
And then my pocket starts to vibrate.
I look up, momentarily confused.
Then I realize someone’s calling me.
My hand shoots into my pocket, I grab my phone as quick as I can.
It’s a call from a number I don’t recognize, but I can only hope it’s him.
“Hello?”
“Nancy? It’s Jake.”
Oh, thank God. I slink back, collapsing in a quiet sigh of relief.
Ten
Nancy
I’m so gosh-darn excited to hear Jake’s voice, I feel like all my energy’s been suddenly returned to me in an instant. His voice comes through crackly, but I don’t care. I sit up in my seat, staring ahead out of the parking lot at the other industrial buildings around Nora’s Café.
“Nancy? It’s Jake.”
I can’t help but smile. “I kinda figured,” I say in a half sing-song tone. “I don’t get too many calls after I’m off work.”
“No? That’s a shame. I thought I’d have to fend off a horde of suitors to get to you. I was ready to put up a fight, too.”
I laugh. “You were not.”
“No, I wasn’t,” and then Jake laughs, too.
“So, Jake, what are you up to? How’s your day going?” I ask, eager to talk to someone after the day I’d just gotten through.
“Alright, I guess. What about yours? I’m sure it’s way more exciting than hanging out at my folk’s all day.”
“Today sucked, honestly. There was a nonstop rush of customers at Nora’s today, from, like, nine to five. So my whole shift, basically.”
“God. That sucks.”
“I know, right?” Even though I’m talking about my worst day of work in years, I can’t stop smiling. Sometimes you just need to know someone’s listening, and that’s enough. “But I want to stop thinking about today. It’s over now. What’d you do today, really?”
Jake chuckles. “You know my brother, Chance, right?”
“I haven’t met him, but I know of him. Doctor, right?”
“Mmm-hmm. County hospital, acts like he’s a big-shot. He wears his dark green scrubs around town.”
My eyes widen, and I let out a laugh. “Yep, I’ve seen him. He’s been to Nora’s a few times. Always wondered why you’d need to wear scrubs in a café.”
“Yup, that’s Chance for you. I got to talking to him today. Anyways, he was at the fundraiser thing last night, too. And his visited the auction.”
“Like the silent auction?”
“No.”
“Your brother didn’t…”
“He bid on a date last night. And he won.”
I gasp. “With who?”
“Some girl. Micah Thompson. Chance would not shut up about her this morning. You know her?”
I nod, the details coming back to me all at once. “Yeah. She was in my grade, we both graduated at the same time. I think she works at that gas station on Main. Don’t know if I’ve seen her at Nora’s recently.”
“Huh,” is all Jake says.
There’s a pause that hangs in the air, and I crack a smile. “You think a doctor and a gas station attendant can find real love?”
I can imagine Jake shrugging. “Dunno. If she’s the type that can stand to be around Chance for more than an hour, then more power to her.”
“Good for them,” I reply.
“I hope they’re happy.”
There’s another pause, and I know Jake didn’t just call me up to make small-talk.
“So, anything on your mind?” I ask.
“Kinda.”
“Like what?”
“I sorta want to get a cup of coffee with you. But I don’t think you want to go back to Nora’s after the day you told me about today.”
I grin, but shake my head. “No way. Nora’ll kill me if I come back after the mess the customers left today.”
“Rain check, then?”
I giggle softly. “There are other places we can get coffee,” I reply a little too sultrily. “I have a machine at my place.”
“Oh yeah?”
I’m smiling so much it hurts my cheeks. “Yeah.”
“I’ll come over, then. What time?”
“I need to unwind after work. A few hours okay for you?”
“Works for me.”
“I’ll text you my address later, then. Bye,” I say as sweetly as I can.
“See you,” Jake says.
And with that, I’ve got a date tonight. With Jake Reeves, of all people. I’ve never been more excited. I wasn’t this giddy when Darius asked me to marry him for real all those years ago. Not that I didn’t like him, but with Jake it’s just different. I really don’t know how to describe it.
As my heart races and the butterflies in my stomach soar about, I grab my keys, starting my car’s little engine as I head home.
Eleven
Jake
After I hang up with Nancy, I feel like my world makes sense again. Like i’ve got a sense of purpose, even if it’s just a coffee obligation for later tonight. It’s the first appointment I’ve made since coming back from Afghanistan, the first time I’ve asked someone to do something with me. It’s small, but it means a lot to me. And she said yes.
Everyone is always asking something of me. My brother, my bosses, my commanding officers. Everyone wants something from me, everyone wants to use me in some way so they can get ahead in life.
Everyone except for Nancy.
I sigh, place my phone on my nightstand as sit up in my bed. My old room’s exactly the way I left it in high school before I left. I’m grateful that Mom and Dad kept my room; my brother Jay’s room got packed-up and re-organized into a study a year after he ditched us on his motorcycle. Mom and Dad gave up on him ever coming back, I think. He’s never been back, of course, but I guess it’s something to think about.
All
my posters are still up on the walls, the ads for old rock shows, movie posters for blockbusters I went and saw in high school. Old photos of friends from high school, Jay and I hanging out with Darius underneath the bleachers. My little league baseball mitt is still sitting atop my dresser, now covered with a full inch of dust. There’s my old shitty guitar, leaning up against my dresser exactly where I left it my senior year of high school. I remember digging through Jay’s closet to find it, and Chance and I fought for a while over who got to keep his guitar. Too bad I never learned to play. I bet Nancy would’ve liked that.
I’m fully dressed, I haven’t been asleep all day like some sort of burnout. I’ve just been reading. Old chapter books from middle school, yeah, but those authors sure knew how to hook a reader. I’m still not over the dystopia craze that went on back then.
I toss the book aside, getting up as I stretch my legs. I look down with disgust at my outfit, a ratty old workout-shirt with holes and pit stains and baggy cargo shorts. Sure, Nancy probably won’t complain about my getup, but I know it’ll bug her.
I rifle through my dresser, searching through the drawers for a half-decent outfit to wear. I find an old button-down shirt, some white camo jeans, a solid-grey tee without any holes or pit stains to speak of. I get changed, admiring myself in the mirror as I dust my shoulder off and shoot myself a wink.
I head to the bathroom, throw on some deodorant, some light cologne. I don’t want to overdo it, I know Nancy’ll back off if I smell like a perfume department.
Mom and Dad are in the living room, eyes glued to the television as usual. I kiss them good-bye atop their heads as I pass them by, and Mom spares me a loving glance as Dad pats my shoulder.
“Going somewhere?” Dad asks, looking up from his program for just a minute to spare me a momentary glance.
I nod. “Out.”
“Have fun,” Mom says, her eyes never leaving the soap opera.
“Chance at work?”
“He got off early,” Dad says. “I think he went to see that girl from last night again.”
“Gotcha. Don’t have too much fun, you two.”
“We’ll try,” Dad says.
