|
|
 |
And now she holds the dirty rubber thing in her hand, ashamed of feeling ashamed. She knows what the thing is, but can't quite form the word in her head. She suddenly hates her two baby braids. They are all laughing, and she wishes she could scratch at all of them. She wishes Elliott were around, watching out for her.
Leave her alone, come on. A guy comes out from the back with a tray of prune homentashen, and all the girls suddenly grin, stand up straighter or strike an exaggerated slouch. This must be Jamie, she thinks. He has shaggy blond hair, dark blue eyes that are kind, teeth that look brushed. He smiles at her, and she thinks of her father, how he used to take
her for Sunday breakfasts at IHOP, just the two of them, before he left, and let her drown pancakes in chocolate sauce and whipped cream.
Fuck you, Jamie, I'm supposed to train her, Kate says.
Yeah, I know how you want to train her, Kate, says Maria.
Yeah, and how you want to watch, Kate says. Catcalls all around. Kate grabs the dildo back, pokes it toward Maria, who slaps it away.
Jamie leans close to her as he slides the homentashen into the display case. They're assholes, he whispers. Don't let them get to you, right?
No, she says, uh uh.
Good girl.
He winks at her as he heads in back, his empty tray gleaming like a shield against his chest.
I like your car. She has been practicing these words in her head for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment when the others aren't around, when Elliott isn't eyeing her, when his girlfriend Fran isn't nearby whining about what time he's going to get off work, her hand protectively held over her still-flat stomach.
"So yeah, like, anytime. I mean I could do anything, anytime." |
His schedule is a mystery, so she lip-glosses now before every shift. She lingers to admire the car on her way in to work, on her way home, whenever it's there and the cousins aren't around to hoot at her, always hoping he might suddenly exit the bakery, see her, offer to take her for a ride. It gleams like the shiny black part of a black-and-white cookie. He hasn't spoken to her again, just smiled in a friendly way with those pretty bright teeth, those starry eyes, and once he tugged on her braid — just one, now, down her back, more grownup — when he passed.
And she has him now, by the bread bins, he is all hers, his smile and his tray of loaves hefted high.
Yeah, thanks, he says. It's okay. I can haul my speakers and shit, you know?
Maybe, she says, maybe I could come hear you play sometime. Everyone, everyone says you're really good.
Oh yeah? he says, pleased. Sure. Sometime. Not on a school night, though. He winks at her again. Through his T-shirt sleeve she can see the hair under his arm, dark blond curls, as he swivels to go.
Fuck school, she says, surprising herself.
Yeah? he says. He stops, lowers his tray. I thought you were, like, a bookworm.
No way, she says. School sucks. She leans casually against the slicing machine, tries to slouch. I can't wait until I'm out of there, you know?
Oh yeah? he says. He taps his tray, grins at her.
So yeah, like, anytime. I mean I could do anything, anytime. She's pleased to hear herself say all of
She straightens up, glad she wore a thin T-shirt, one that clearly reveals the seams of her bra. "I'd love to see your car." |
this, doesn't know where these words have come from. I mean like, now, she continues, I'm on my dinner break. She unties her apron strings, pulls it over her head, hangs it on the rack. She straightens up, glad she wore a thin T-shirt, one that clearly reveals the seams of her bra. I'd love to see your car.
Okay, he says, nodding. Sure. C'mon. He heads in back, and she follows. Her heart is happy. She will sit next to him in his velvet-and-black car, and he'll tell her about his music and how Fran is such a bitch and all his secret things, they'll go have a cheeseburger somewhere and talk more, they'll come back to finish their shifts and then later he'll play guitar for her, drive her home, even, no more taking the bus. She feels Elliott's eye on her as she follows toward the back exit. But Jamie stops at the chiller, unlatches its heavy door and disappears inside without looking back. She is unsure for a moment what to do, nervously picks at a Kaiser roll on a tray until she sees Elliott return to squirting out a pink basketweave design on a baby-themed cake.
| |
|
|
