Walking Away

Sara

Johnathan

I paced on the sidewalk, glancing at my watch. 3:45.

I was supposed to get to work at 4:30, but I had overestimated traffic a bit. So now Ali was with Maddie, and I had most of an hour to kill.

I thought about getting food, but I was too nervous to eat.  So I paced some more, fighting the cylindrical fight against time.

When my watch read 4:00 I gave up and walked inside.

It was filled with tables, with a small stage on the side. There were maybe twenty people scattered around the tables. 

"Hi! Can I help you?" A very, very happy girl around 19 came up to me. She was wearing a uniform, with a long ponytail showing red hair with yellow tips.

"Uh. No, thank you." I stepped back. "Wait. No, yes. Please." She looked confused. I can't blame her. I sound about as decisive as a squirrel.

"I mean, I'm supposed to start working here today?" There. That was better.

"Oh. You must be Johnathan." She held out her hand. "I'm Sara. It's cool to meet you." She smirked. "I guess that's why you've been pacing on the sidewalk for the past half hour."

"I sort of prefer Jonah." I shook her hand. "And yeah, I guess so."

Well. There's my first impression. 'The guy who can pace.' Great.

"Come on." Sara gestured for me to follow her. "We're kinda slow until about 4:15. That's when our afternoon crowd starts up." She slid onto a barstool. "So, Jonah, tell me about yourself."

I sat down next to her. "What do you want to know?" It was the same question I'd asked Raven a while ago.

"Everything." She looked completely serious for five seconds before she broke into laughter. "No, just, you know, what's important?" She rested one arm on the counter, her blue eyes emphasized by gold eyeliner. It was an interesting combination.

"I don't know." I shrugged. There isn't anything very important about me.

She raised a brow. "Huh. Okay. Here, I'll give you a head start. I've worked here for a year now. I'm a psych major at a local college, and I love to mess with my hair color, so if you're against the whole dyeing thing you can screw off. I have an older brother who's a jerk but I love him, and a dad who works as a mechanic." She grinned. "Your turn."

I relaxed a bit. This wasn't hard. "Okay then." I thought for a moment. "I'm just starting here because I need the money. I think your hair is pretty cool, and I have the only dying I'm against is the kind that lands you in a cemetery. I have a little sister who's amazing, and I don't have a dad."

"Dead?" She was blunt.

If she was blunt, I could be too. "Nope. Just a deadbeat."

"Ouch." Sara spun on her bar stool, tipping her head back. "Mom?"

I hesitated. "Sure." I mean, she exists.

"Sure?" She gave me an incredulous look. "What kind of answer is that?"

I shrugged. "Mine?" I elaborated. "I have one. She's not a great person." It's more information than I usually give out.

"Ah. Mine either. But she split." Sara tapped her nails on the counter - red with gold tips. "She was pretty harsh. Used to yell all the time. I'd bet your mom's a bit better."

I wanted to laugh. "I promise you she isn't." The words hung in the air for a second as we both processed that.

That wasn't something I should have said - at all. But none of my usual alarms were going off with Sara. And when I looked back at her, there was a type of understanding. She nodded, smiling slightly.