Wish We Never Started

20

I realize quickly – at 6:20am – that I need a suit or something that's acceptable for interviews.

In a slight panic, I text Diego. I know he's only a few inches shorter than me, but he's bound to have something I can borrow that will fit.

When I brush my teeth, I realize I've done it so hard that the bristles are permanently pressed down when I finish. My mouthwash almost goes down like a shot, but I stop myself and spit it back into the sink.

I pick up my phone with slightly wet hands and fumble it, watching the whole thing slip off of the counter and land on the floor with a loud thud.

"Fuck," I mumble, bending down to pick it up off of the floor. I unlock it and see that Diego has neither read my messages or responded to them.

I'm only wearing boxers when I go into the kitchen to make breakfast. There's six eggs in the fridge, all of which are a few days past their expiration date but hopefully still edible. I turn on the stove and get a pan heated while I check my phone again.

Nothing.

"Oh my god," I say breathily, trying to think of what I can do between now and 9am to make myself look decent. It's only my uncle, but there's still a lot on the line.

The sun is barely up yet and I feel like I'm in a daze. I place my hands on my hips and try to think, but my brain is empty.

I crack one egg into the pan, letting it sizzle while I check my phone one more time. Come on, Diego.

As my egg cooks, I give in and call. If I call him enough times, he'll wake up and answer, right?

The first call there is nothing. I scramble the egg a bit in the pan, noticing some parts getting brown, others still a bit undercooked. I turn the heat off and try calling him again, my phone tucked between my ear and shoulder.

Finally, he answers.

"What's up?" He says sleepily.

"I am so glad you answered. I need a suit. Like a business attire type of suit. Please tell me you have one," I plead.

"Bro, it's six thirty in the morning," Diego says, "what the hell is happening?"

I pace around the kitchen while I talk, running my fingers through my hair.

"I am finally going to work for my uncle. I need a suit," I tell him again, like he didn't understand the first time.

"Yeah, I heard you. But like... what's happening?" He asks again.

I stop in my tracks. My eyes are wide and I feel like I've been awake the entire night.

"I'm going to work for my uncle," I repeat.

"I heard you," Diego says, a little louder, "but please fucking tell me why you need a suit at six am and what the fuck you mean by 'I'm going to work for my uncle.'"

I sigh and crouch down in place, letting my head hang. Suddenly, I'm hit with a wave of exhaustion.

"I've never told anyone," I tell Diego, pausing before continuing, "when I moved here, it was under the impression I'd start working for my uncle. He owns a car rental chain and the headquarters is just a ten minute bus ride away."

"Fleet rentals?" Diego asks with a hint of surprise.

"Yes, that's the one," I tell him.

"Holy shit, dude... that's a huge chain. Your uncle owns it?"

I nod, even though he can't see me. Something suddenly feels wrong about keeping this secret from him for so long.

"He's the second generation owner," I add.