Wish We Never Started

2

I walk down the sidewalk towards the diner, rubbing my hands together for warmth. The early morning frost coating cars along the curb is not a welcome sight.

Sometimes, I long for the warmth of California, even though San Francisco's groggy weather is only a few tiers above this.

Cold wind weaves through my open jacket. The zipper finally gave out after two years – something Diego said he could fix, but I keep putting it off. Maybe a smarter decision would be to get a new one.

This is my third job in the last eight months. The first and longest one was in customer service, but I called someone a "fucking idiot" under my breath and that was against policy.

Over the summer, I did landscaping, but I had to rely on this dude named Eric to pick me up and drive me to the job sites. His truck was always messy and smelled like cats, which was off putting. We'd sit in silence both ways, except for one time when he asked if the air conditioning was comfortable. That job didn't last long.

I'm hoping this job sticks for as long as I need it.

Being twenty five without a college degree and limited work experience feels... bad. Especially in a world where you need six years of schooling to even make enough to live.

I turn down the alley that houses the diner's back entrance, where kitchen staff are supposed to enter and exit. Next to the door is a little keypad with numbers that glow neon green. I type in the code, which I remember because it starts with sixty nine, and the door unlocks with a loud buzz.

Staring inside through the open door, I see first hand how busy and cramped the kitchen is. It's like I'm opening the door to a culinary Narnia. Everything is stainless steel and the floor and walls are white. The lighting is spotty, some places bright enough to reach mars but others dim.

I'm hit with the smell of bacon and coffee, the griddle sizzling in the background. The warm aromas of breakfast make my stomach growl just slightly. This is going to be a long morning.

As soon as I step inside, a guy I haven't met yet walks by in a rush and throws me an apron. He yells over his shoulder, "get started. They're backed up."

I take my puffer off and quickly head to the break room, which looks kind of identical to my high school locker room but much smaller and with a table. I stuff my jacket in an open locker and throw the apron over my head.

Seven hundred dishes later, and the morning went is over. I wasn't able to step away once, so the idea of taking lunch is exhilarating. I check the clock and not even a minute later, the guy I don't know from earlier stands next to me and tugs on my apron.

"Take lunch and come back in thirty," he says stiffly.

"Who are you?" I ask, not hesitating to untie my apron and hand it over to him just like he did to me this morning.

"Jonathan. I just work here," he replies, equally as stiff, taking my apron.

"Okay then, nice to meet you, Jonathan 'I just work here'."

He is not amused, not even a twitch on his face.

"I'm most likely going to be the one relieving you every shift," he tells me in monotone while throwing the apron over his head.

"Cool," I give him a smile and nod while making a break for it. This will be fun.

Inside the weird locker room area, Sadie and another woman are sitting at the table eating lunch.

I perk up at the sight of her, but don't say anything yet. She doesn't look at me when I enter, but the other woman does. There's only two chairs, so I go to my locker to get my phone.

There's a text from my mom about how well her garden is doing this fall. Then, there's a text from Sofia. It's nudes with a message that follows them: what you don't deserve!!!

Once again, I'm glad my phone's brightness was down low enough that there's a slim to nothing chance anyone else saw Sofia's tits. This wasn't the first time.

I quickly exit our chat and swipe to delete the entirety of our conversation.

That's when I hear Sadie from behind me at the table.

"So, I see you decided not to show up naked today."

I turn around and smile, clicking my phone screen off. Sadie has her hand over her mouth, and I realize she's chewing a salad, which is spread out on a diner plate.

"Yeah... after a lot of thought, probably in my best interest not to," I say while closing my locker.

"Bummer, dude," Sadie shakes her head and looks back down at her salad, stabbing it.

"Where did that other girl go?" I ask, pointing to the empty chair next to her.

"Back to work, I think," she answers with a shrug.

"Oh. Does that mean I can take a seat?" I try to ask playfully, like Sadie is in charge of the seats. I start pulling the chair out.

"Of course. You know, I'm just finishing up."

Sadie suddenly drops her fork with a clang and stands up.

"Do I smell or something?" I ask, grabbing the front of my shirt and bringing it to my nose. "Actually, yeah, I smell like fucking bacon grease and dirty water."

Sadie shakes her head and pushes in the chair.

"That's not bad at all. One time I had an entire bowl of split pea soup spilled down my shirt. I had to wipe it away with napkins. I smelled like ham for a week."

I look up at her and consider this for a moment.

"I think the part about smelling like ham for a week is a little concerning," I add.

"Well, I'd say so," Sadie nods, "usually you should only smell like ham for three days. After that, you should probably check in with your doctor."

Sadie grabs her plate with the salad and looks at me, completely serious.

We stare at each other for a few moments before she breaks into a laugh, like a laugh that starts in your belly and you swear it will give you abs the next day.

It makes me start to laugh, too, and I'm not even sure what exactly we're laughing about, but it's the best laugh I've had in a while.

My abs do, in fact, hurt by the end of it, and Sadie is leaned back against the wall for support.

The plate is back on the table next to me, some pieces of leftover lettuce no longer with us and on the floor instead.

Her face is bright pink and patchy, a tear streaming down her cheek. It really wasn't that funny, but I can appreciate someone who cry-laughs.

"I have to get back to work now," she says while wiping the tears from her cheek, "that was good."

I cross my arms against my chest and lean back on the foldable chair as I study her. Slowly, I begin to smirk at the thought of what I'm going to say next.

"Okay, ham hands, get back out there."

This gets one more laugh out of Sadie, even though I realize how fucking weird it sounded out loud.

Sadie leans towards me to take her plate, a dimpled smile still on her face. She uses her free hand to tuck some hair behind her ear, peeking towards me shyly, maybe to check if I'm staring.

I am.

Our eye contact is short but intense, a small blip in the busy work day we've both had so far.

When Sadie is gone, I hear a scoff from behind me.

"Y'all have something," the woman who was eating next to Sadie says, "that's all I gotta say about it."

She shakes her head and closes the door of the employee bathroom, tossing her paper towel into the trash like a basketball.