Special Post. Short Story

That dreaded alarm clock. Staying up late practicing and researching made the morning come to quickly, but nevertheless it was here. It wasn’t like this morning was much different that recent ones, but the mornings were becoming a ritual I didn’t want to be a part of any longer. Maybe this would be the day that it would all change… at least that’s what I had hoped. Walking with what felt like 50 pounds on each foot, I headed towards the bathroom for the shower. “Everything gets better after the shower” I murmur to myself. I could have shouted the statement if I wanted to, it’s not like anyone was there to hear it. I didn’t have to worry about waking up that special someone who was still sleeping so soundly in the bed next to where I lay. I didn’t have to worry about a precious baby that was finally sleeping through the night. It was just me. “Probably gonna to be ‘just me’ forever”.  I wasn’t going to focus on that though, today was the day! The first big obstacle was what to do with this wiry, pin-straight hair. It never really look pretty to me, just a dull, light brown. My mom always said it complemented my eyes, “the brown makes the green in your eyes stick out more honey”, I heard her say time and time again. I did like my eyes. God decided to bless me in at least this one tiny area of my life. Now if only He could just work on all the other areas; that would be nice. Of course, that is if He is even there.

I was finally ready to head out. The outfit looked good; pretty, but serious. The fight between whether to wear the pink blouse or the white one felt like it would never end. On my walk to the subway I saw a mother struggle to get her stroller up the stairs. I ran over to help, but in the process, got mud on my freshly painted, bright red toenails and black- what used to be shiny- shoes. The lady was very grateful and I felt good about helping someone in need. I found a spicket and washed off my muddy foot. Sure enough the paint had not dried on my toes quite yet and what was once a smooth, glossy, and red surface was now a smudged, ugly, and dirty looking red toenail. “Awesome!” I looked up to see if anyone heard my exclamation, but no one did. What else was new? No one ever seemed to hear me. I don’t know why I was letting a little mud get to me so much. Growing up in the back woods of Georgia, me and mud used to be pals. However, things are much different now than they were then. Maybe, just maybe my helping that lady would somehow be returned to me at some point today.

Riding the subway felt normal now. The excitement of living in the “Big Apple” and getting to ride the subway every day had rubbed off. The only excitement I got from it now was getting to see the man who worked at the hot dog stand right above the station. He had to work out everyday to look that good. Girls were always mad that I never worked out and was still so skinny. I was naturally that way, but this man… no one could naturally be this good looking without trying. He would look at me and smile, with perfectly white teeth and that strong, jagged jaw bone. I would try to play it off like no big deal but on the inside I had to focus so hard on not stumbling over my own feet whenever I was in his presence. Or maybe if I stumbled over my feet he could catch me and we would fall in love and live happily ever after. Just like every other day, I realize that my life is not a fairy-tale, smile back, and move on to the subway.

Unlike last week, I got to go by my normal Starbucks today. David, the barista who had come to be a part of my ritualistic morning, saw me and his face said it all. The disappointment on his face matched the way I felt on the inside. “So… no luck with last week’s?” he said with sadness in his tone. David had been there from the first day, when I came in wide-eyed and ready to face the new world in which I had placed myself. He asked me that day what I was so excited about. “I’m starting my life today”. I realized that in my response I sounded like a little girl, finding out that Christmas was coming soon, and quickly apologized for my overpowering and abrupt response. “I mean, I’m going to get my first real job today.” We continued to talk as I explained how I had taken a huge step and moved away from everything I knew to come to my dream and make it happen. I can’t even remember that dream now. Instead, I question myself as to why I am even here. David had seen me come in one day after another, each day I was positive that that day would be the one. I could always tell he was truly sad for me when he would softly scratch his fingers through his curly black hair in a loss for words. I only knew this mannerism so well because I had seen it happen so many times by this point. To avoid talking about it I just ordered my usual drink and smiled. “You look very nice today.” David always told me I looked nice. But my past relationship of two years was filled with things like “you look beautiful”. Those words meant nothing then, so when David said them, they meant nothing now. When I went to grab my coffee he seemed to leave his hand on the cup long enough to be sure that it would touch mine. It caught me off guard. I liked it. But should I like it? What did I even know about this guy? We talked about my job search and he got me coffee. That was it. I figured I was reading into it too much. My sad, little life had gotten that bad. It was to the point where I think the barista likes me! HA! Thinking that is almost as naive as thinking this interview was going to be different than any of the others.

As I was leaving, I wished I went with the pink blouse instead of the white. If I were to spill any of that coffee on my white blouse, it would be very obvious. The office was just two block away and my heart was pounding. Did I know enough about this company? Was I even the right person for the job? Did it matter if I was? I just needed a Job. I had hoped that having a college degree would have opened up more opportunities to me than it had by now. I often felt that I should have stayed with my waitressing job back home, where even if the words were empty, I had someone who I could call mine, and it was “ok” if I got mud on my feet. I was there, standing in front of the office door. Feeling like it was pointless to be there, knowing what the outcome was going to be. Yet still… I knocked and went in.