In the End

Elephant In the Park

The Blue Label has still not all been drunk yet. Andy is proud of himself for holding off for this long. In other aspects of his life, he is not quite as proud.

His apartment is a mess all over again, clothes littered on his bed, on the couch, and across the floors. There's even a t-shirt crumpled up on the kitchen counter a little too close to a stove eye, and he almost burns it trying to make breakfast. He decides he does not really need to eat so badly. He has not left his apartment in weeks, save for work. The trash is piled again, and he needs clean clothes. But he's slept in until just before having to go to work again, and he could have gotten up and done laundry and gone back to sleep, but he never left bed, and now it is much too late. He feels as if he's already failed.

But he has to go to work.

So he picks up the cleanest clothes he can find, and he doesn't bother to look in the mirror, because he knows he will detest what he sees, and he does not need to go to work wallowing in self-loathing and pity. It isn't good for customer service.

He tries to tell himself to eat, and that he's hungry, but even before opening his pantry, he decides he is not, and sits on the couch instead, staring. Waiting for the time to pass. He feels the itch, but he does not answer it. Not now. He does not have time to clean the mess, and he does not want customers to notice anything and ask any questions. If he's lucky, no one will notice him at all, outside of being the man behind the counter, to give them what they want.

Kristen has called numerous times, but could not bring himself to answer. He tells himself he will call her after work today. He has told himself that every day.

He leaves his apartment and heads downstairs. He does not lock the door, and he does not bother to think about why he doesn't. He knows why. He just does not want to face it. Instead, he pushes the thoughts away, and tells himself he forgot, and he's close enough from his job that it should not matter, whether he locks his door or not.

Fortunately for him, the first hour or so is slow, and he does not have to face anyone. He never likes it when there are already people standing outside, waiting at the door for him, as if he's incompetent at his own job, or forgot the time he needed to be there. Their impatience overwhelms him. Days like this, when there is no one seemingly demanding something from him, he feels as if he has a moment to breathe. He stocks things that don't particularly need stocking, he reorganizes his counter, he cleans windows. He tries to feel normal.

There is still a dull pressure hiding underneath the skin of his face when his first customer walks in, and he knows instantly that it is going to be a long day. He's already angry that they are here, and he hates himself immediately for being angry, and it's a continuous, self-destructive cycle, while the hours slowly tick by.

He wishes he was not so restless. He feels terrible, and everyone who comes through the store gives off an aura of disgust and disappointment with him. Kristen has told him before that he is only projecting his own feelings onto others, but he cannot help thinking that, most likely, they truly do not like him. He finds it hard to see why they would like him to begin with. He does not even like himself, when he cannot seem to even shower, or clean his place, or do anything that any self-respecting individual would do.

Someone asks him a question and he does not hear it right away, and apologizes profusely when he realizes what is occurring. It only makes him feel worse, and he apologizes so loudly he's sure they think he was using sarcasm. The clock is mercilessly slow.

The doorbell has rang for what feels like nearly one hundred times when a familiar face walks in, and it looks upset.

"Andy," Kristen says. She's pouting. She does not appear angry, but she is clearly hurt, and Andy knows it is his fault. She walks over and puts her hands on the counter, while a customer walks in the back, meandering through the items. Andy highly suspects they already have what they need, and are only taking their time to overhear their conversation.