Tomorrow's June

by Claudia Caget

  Kurt answered.

  "Hi honey."

  "Hi Kurt. Listen, there has been a change of plans." I debated whether or not to lie to him, deciding not to tell the whole truth about everything.

  "What do you mean? You aren't coming over tonight?"

  "Ian wants to take me out." I can't lie to him about this. My eyes filled with tears.

  "What? That asshole never comes around and now he wants to take you out?" Kurt’s voice was low and grumbling. He sounded incredibly angry.

  "Yeah, he came over last night and said he was moving to Chicago and wants to talk about things with me," This was a lie because I couldn't bear for Kurt to know the truth: I didn't want to be alone.

  Kurt was silent for a moment. "You aren't considering going to Chicago with him, are you?"

  "No, of course not.” This was not a lie.

  Kurt was silent for another moment.

  "You didn't sleep with him, did you?"

  I didn't answer, just laughed nervously, a sure sign of 'yes' if there ever was one.

  "Mia, how could you?" Kurt sounded indignant. Why did he think I had to explain this to him?

  "The same way you can sleep with Hannah. He is my boyfriend you know." His behavior was a tad unfair and I already raked myself over the coals about what I did.

  "Fine." Kurt's voice was strained. "Where is he taking you?"

  "Dinner and a movie."

  "How sweet and nice." Kurt's tone indicated he thought it was neither.

  "We'll get together tomorrow night, I promise. I'll make it up to you." The last thing in the world I want to do is to make him mad at me. I need Kurt.

  "Okay.” He was pouting. "Love you." His voice was a whisper.

  "Love you too," I said, whispering, too for no apparent reason.

  We hung up.

  After I showered, I went into the kitchen seeking more coffee and was confronted by a large note from Amy.

  ATTENTION:

  Please clean up after yourself, especially beer bottles. I had to remove seven beer bottles from the coffee table. I am not the maid. We need to work together to keep this place clean.

  -Amy

  I was a little shocked. True, Ian and I had left our beer bottles on the coffee table, but I didn't want Amy to clean up after me. She must have come home after Ian left and I went back to bed. From the tone of the note, it sounded like she had had a bad night.

  I put it out of my mind and cleaned the house. I had three hours to go before Ian came over so I took my time getting ready. I perused the movie listings and found one in which the actors weren't reprehensible. Then I sat down and watched some TV.

  I was still watching TV at 7. Ian had not shown up. Neither had Amy. Where was everyone?

  I was getting annoyed. Where was he? This was his idea to go out! I called his frat house and he wasn't home. Maybe he was on the way over. When I got upset, I paced. I mapped out a route from the couch to the window so I could look out. I could not believe this guy was standing me up! I considered calling Kurt but I am humiliated and even though he wouldn't say it, I know he would be thinking, 'Told you so.'

  Ian never showed up. I sat and waited until nine o'clock, and then I changed into my pajamas. The night was a total waste and I could not believe I had sat around waiting for him for three hours. The thought angered me. I could have been with Kurt! I went to bed early, which was a good thing because I had to work at 11 the next morning. It would be nice not to be hung over for a change, either alcohol-wise or sex-wise.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning Kurt and I were again, working together. When I arrived, he and his worried face were waiting for me. It was very sweet.

  "How was it?" He sounded anxious.

  "You are not going to believe it. He stood me up," I said, avoiding his gaze by concentrating on tying on my apron.

  "What an asshole." I looked up in time to see relief washing over Kurt's face.

  "Yea, I don't want to talk about it," I turned away again. I didn’t want his pity.

  Kurt touched my shoulder and I turn towards him. "We are still going out after work, right?" He was smiling.

  "Of course. I wouldn't miss it," I said, smiling back at him, my first real smile in a day and a half.

  "Good. Hannah works until close." Close was midnight on Saturdays. We worked until 7 p.m.

  And with that, my universe was righted again. A flow of customers came in and Kurt and I assumed our usual workstations. He didn’t like dealing with people, so he made the drinks while I worked the register. He was so much fun that time went by quickly with him. I really did love him.

  The day was perfect until Hannah, the walking contradiction, appeared at 2 p.m. Today she was modeling her hooker meets prairie wife ensemble, complete with too tight sweater and skirt and a matronly bun of hair and glasses.

  “Hi Hannah.” I smiled at her from behind the counter.

  “Hi Mia. How's it going?” Hannah smiled back because she had no idea I am sleeping with her boyfriend.

  “Business is good!” I always babbled like an idiot around her. It must be the guilt.

  She continued to smile as she walked into the back. I turned and looked at Kurt, who rolled his eyes as he walked into the kitchen after her.

  “Good luck,” I laughed at him.

  There was a lull in the customers and I stood at the register, staring out the window. At that moment, I felt an odd peace.

  “Ugh.” The voice behind me startled me out of my daydream. I turned and Hannah was walking toward me, tying on her apron.

  “What's wrong?” My laugh belied my nervousness being around her.

  “That Kurt. He is impossible.”

  “Oh?”

  “He is back there washing the three spoons in the sink. He does that at home you know, compulsively washing whatever dirty knife or fork is lying around. It drives me nuts.”

  “He would get along great with my roommate.”

  Hannah looked at me and I felt hasten to explain myself.

  “She is always leaving notes about how I never do the dishes, when there is one cup and a spoon in the sink. I don't see what the emergency is all about.”

  Hannah nodded, unsmiling. She apparently thought this behavior was cause for alarm.

  “I think Kurt's problems stem from him unfulfilling relationship with his father manifesting itself in an obsessive/compulsive outlook, which in turn causes him to want mastery over the dishes in the sink.”

  That must be a fun relationship, I thought while watching Hannah, who was obviously satisfied with the validity of her diagnosis, turned her attention to the cups.

  I turned back to the register and wondered why she was telling me this. In my extreme state of guilt, I had become highly paranoid. It was almost like she was telling me this as a warning.

  “Mia, could you get more cups out of the back?” Hannah's voice flitted over my shoulder.

  “Uh, sure,” I said, turning and moving toward the kitchen. She wasn't my boss but I would do anything to get away from her.

  Inside the kitchen, Kurt was bent over the sink, fastidiously washing his spoons. I walked toward him.

  “Hey, what's going on?” I said, knowing full well what is going on.

  “Hannah pisses me off to no end,” Kurt said, looking up. He had a bit of a crazy look in his eye.

  “Really?” It was surreal to be privy to both sides of this relationship.

  “Did you see that outfit she has on? She can barely move. The last time I zipped up that skirt for her, I could hear fabric ripping.”

  Hannah was not fat. She was curvy and pretty and I really hated her for it. “Huh,” I said as I walked to the cupboard to get more cups. I didn't want to be in the middle of their thing. As it was, I was involved enough. Kurt didn't answer and I walked out into the lobby with the cups. I refilled the cup dispensers and decided to bus some tables.

  “Have I ever told you about his reading habits?” Hannah said as I walked by with the r
ag.

  “Uh. I don't know,” I said over my shoulder as I walked into the dining area. The last thing in the world I wanted to hear about was Kurt's idiosyncrasies. I knew him pretty well but these traits took on an entirely different meaning when Hannah was complaining about them. I considered telling him what she said about him but again, I didn't want to get in the middle of their spat.

  I fell into a Zen state of mind while wiping off the seven small tables that dot the dining area. Work will truly set you free.

  I was snapped out my repetitive motion exercise by Jeff, the owner of the Garden, who walked toward me from the vintage clothing wing of the store. Five people were following him.

  “Hi Mia. How are you?” Jeff smiled at my busyness. He always seemed to catch me working, which was funny since I stood around a lot. The great timing is one of the reasons why I loved working there.

  “Fine. Things are great.” I smiled back at him.

  “Isn't Hannah with you today?”

  “Yes, She's by the machines.” I turned toward the prep area, but Hannah was nowhere to be found. “She was just there. Maybe she is in the back.” As if on cue, Hannah and Kurt walked through the swinging door, Hannah's face was red as if she was angry.

  “Oh good,” Jeff said, looking at both of us. “Hannah, I would like you and Mia to train our new hires on the coffee making side of things. Business has been picking up and we need help on weekends.”

  “Okay,” Hannah and I said simultaneously. I have never trained anyone before, so this is exciting. We divided up the trainees; I got two guys and one girl.

  Brad looked like a frat boy-jock type, much older than his 17 years. Apparently he was on some sort of work-release program for a minor drug dealing violation and this job was his probation.

  Andy was about 21, tall, thin, and unspectacular. An unspectacular English major. Coffee houses were littered with them.

  Brandy was about 19, from what I could tell, and she immediately looked annoyed whenever anything was said to her, which was good, because she would fit in with our pretentious clientele.

  I showed the three of them how to punch in, where to put their coats, and the importance of keeping the tables bussed. We were standing to the side, waiting for our turn at the espresso machine when Andy asked me who my favorite poet was.

  "I don't know. I like Keats. He's got that tortured, die young, rock star quality about him. Why?" I had a bad feeling about this.

  "I am very fond of poetry. I like Sr. Thomas Mallory, specifically "La Mort de Arthur." That means the 'death of Sir Arthur, the knight. Looking at you, I am thinking of a poem."

  "Oh?" Fond of poetry? Who was this guy?

  "Yes." He grabbed a napkin and jotted down a few lines and handed them to me.

  "The night is torn

  By the cries of the maimed

  There is no solace

  No promise to be made"

  "It's not bad." I was being polite. I was a real psycho magnet.

  "I'll write you more. Do you have a boyfriend?"

  What was this guy's problem? Better nip this behavior in the bud.

  "Yes." Technically, Ian was still my boyfriend, and Kurt was half a boyfriend, a spare, if you will. “He's very jealous.” That should put a stop to it and it was technically true; Kurt was very jealous.

  "That's too bad. I can really see us together."

  Or not.

  "You don't even know me!" I couldn’t believe what I am hearing.

  “But I want to know you better. I'm a really good judge of character.”

  One thing I hated was worship and besides, this conversation was entirely inappropriate in a work setting. Hannah and her trainees had moved on to other duties, so it was an ideal time to change the subject.

  “All right, this espresso machine will pull the espresso shots for you,” I said, moving over to the machine to demonstrate.

  Later, after I showed the trainees how to make all of our signature drinks and they were filling out their new employee paperwork in the dining room, I told Kurt about Andy's behavior. True to form, he became very angry.

  "Just who the hell does this guy think he is? I'm going to kick his ass!"

  "Great! That'll do a lot of good." I tried not to roll my eyes.

  "I don't like the way he looks."

  I laughed. Kurt didn't like the way anybody looked. He changed gears.

  "I can't wait to be alone with you tonight," he said, as he stepped up to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. We were in the kitchen, a dangerous place to be sure, but often the scene of stolen kisses and frantic groping. I stepped back from his embrace. It was thrilling but Hannah was out front and I didn't want to get caught.

  "I thought we were going out for a drink." I pouted. I felt a little taken advantage of.

  "We are, but it's still nice to be with you, alone." We squeezed hands and I left the kitchen quickly. Our relationship depended on discreetness and I didn't want to be the center of vicious workplace romance rumors, however true they may be.

  Quitting time came quickly behind the flurry of activity associated with training people. Andy insisted upon walking me to my car at the end of our shift. It looked like telling him I had a boyfriend didn't work.

  "I hope we work together a lot," he said as he stood very close to me at my car.

  "I don't usually work a lot of weekends," I replied by way of getting out of any obligation, implied or otherwise, to have to work with this person.

  "That's too bad," he said, moving even closer to me, practically pinning me between his body and my car. He was really creeping me out by invading my space.

  "You are a little aggressive," I said, stepping away from him and my car. "I just met you. What makes you think that I want you to be so close to me?"

  Andy was unfazed. "I think that you would be used to such behavior. You strike me as the type of girl with a lot of male admirers."

  Male admirers? Who talked that way and what the hell was that supposed to mean? Did I have ‘Easy’ stamped on my forehead?

  "Since I have a boyfriend, it would be inappropriate for you to assume I will date you. It would be best if we were co-workers only," I said. “Especially since I am training you.”

  "We can be friends. I never meant to imply otherwise." He looked like someone just slapped him, which was fine by me. Whatever it took to make him stop hitting on me.

  "Fine. Till next time then," I moved closer to my car and opened the door to slip inside. As I drove away, I could see Andy walking to his car; he looked like he was whistling. He had a lot of nerve that one.

  The plan was to go home and change and meet Kurt at the bar as quickly as possible. The Garden uniform consisted of t-shirts and khakis and it wasn't something I wanted to wear out. I changed into something black and tight to make up for me not coming over to Kurt's house the night before and drove as quickly as possible to the bar where we were to meet.

  It was nice to spend time alone with him with my clothes on. If I squinted, it was almost like he was my boyfriend. We had a very flirty relationship. He was so easy to talk to and we had a lot in common, which made all the more harder to stomach why he wouldn't leave Hannah for me; I thought we got along great. I didn't even care about his flawed relationship with his father!

  As usual, I drank too much, too fast and by midnight, I was pretty much finished for the evening, which was good, because Kurt had to go home to Hannah. When we left the bar, we followed each other as far as we could in our cars, and eventually I stumbled up the steps to my apartment and into my living room.

  When I walked in, there, on the couch, was the missing Ian. He looked pissed, apologetic, and uneasy, all at once.

  I stopped dead in my tracks. How the hell did he get in here? My stomach churned and I held onto the back of the armchair for support. A flush rose through my body from my feet and the five beers and two shots I drank threatened to make a reappearance.

  "Where have you been? On a date?" Ian said, eying my
dress. "The Garden said you got off work at 7 p.m. and it is now 12:30. I have been here since 9," he continued.

  "Excuse me? Where were you last night? I waited for you! You never showed up and now you have the balls to ask me where I was tonight! I was with my real friends!" I shrieked at him to rid myself of my pesky and inconvenient conscience. Playing the victim felt like a good strategy. It was. At my outburst, Ian looked shocked like he thought he was going to bully me into submission and it didn’t work. What was he expecting? Tearful apologies?

  "I'm sorry, I was worried about you. I'm sorry about last night, I had a family emergency."

  "You couldn't call me?"

  "Things happened so fast that I was caught up in it all."

  At this point, Amy appeared in the hall.

  "What is going on?" Her hands were on her hips.

  "Nothing." She really made me mad. How dare she let this asshole in! "I didn't mean to yell." But mainly I was upset because I was caught.

  Amy turned on her heel, making an 'hmpph' sound. Fuck her. I turned back to Ian, who looked really freaked out.

  "I can't believe that you didn't even have the decency to call me. You could have called me this morning."

  "I know. I'm sorry." He was pale.

  I began to think this was the perfect time to break up with him.

  "Ian-"

  Ian cut me off. "Mia, I have something to tell you."

  "What?"

  "It wasn't quite a family emergency, but it was important."

  "You just finished lying to me? Why would you do that?" Everyone had lost their damn minds. I looked down at my knuckles and they were white. I had to calm down.

  "I don't know why I lied to you."

  "Yea, me either. Where were you?"

  "I know. I am sorry." Ian evaded my question and wouldn’t look at me.

  "Well, where were you?" I put my hands on my hips and walked over to where he sat on the couch, towering over him in a classic power stance. I might as well milk this situation for all it was worth.