When We Were Wildflowers

Chapter 29 - First Job

Poppy insists on pouring us both a 'cup of ambition' from my mom's fancy French press before we head off to work, just like the song says. "Should we put some milk in it or something?"

I yawn and open the refrigerator door, and the sight of my dad's French vanilla coffee creamer inside makes my heart plummet into my stomach. Little reminders like this, and Mom's empty wine bottles in the recycling bin, are the worst. "Yeah, let's give it a try."

When I pour it into our mugs, the soft, sugary aroma transports me to Saturday mornings snuggled up with Dad on the couch watching cartoons. The smell of his coffee was always so comforting, but now I desperately long for a time machine to revisit those carefree childhood days.

"Our first cup of coffee." I raise my mug and take a big gulp, instantly regretting it. Amusement lights up Poppy's face as I spit the scalding liquid into the sink with my scorched tongue hanging out. "Ouch!"

"Um, yeah, it's hot." Poppy snorts.

"Maybe I should put some ice in it? People drink it cold right?"

"My mom always orders iced coffee at the donut shop." Poppy shrugs and takes a sip. Her mouth curls in disgust. "This is really strong, Violet. Are you sure we did it right?"

"I think that's just how coffee tastes." I reach into the freezer, grab a few ice cubes and drop them into our coffee, then add even more creamer to mine until it the drink transforms from brown to frothy beige and nearly overflows. Carefully, I lift my mug with my pinky finger raised doing my best impersonation of a grown up and try it again, this time with a dainty sip. "Not bad. I can feel the caffeine working already."

Poppy sips and nods convincingly. "Me too."

The steps creak as Mom descends at a frenzied pace. She sniffs and her blue eyes pop in surprise. "Violet, you made coffee?"

"Sure did, and I'm drinking it."

Although Mom shoots me a skeptical look, she pours a generous amount into her stainless steel mug and screws on the lid. "Time to get going girls. You don't want to be late for your first day of work."

"Yeah, let's go." I discreetly pour the contents of my mug into the sink while Poppy chugs her entire cup.

"Let's do this!" She claps her hands together and whoops far too enthusiastically for 8:30 in the morning.

Maybe the caffeine is working? Now, I wish I didn't pour mine down the drain.

Mom takes a slow sip from her thermos and nods as we walk into the garage. "Good job, ladies. It's strong, just how I like it. So are they going to give you uniforms when you get there?"

I scrunch up my nose and climb into her SUV. "I don't know. Dad didn't say."

At the mention of Dad, Mom scrunches up her nose too. "Did he tell you anything about it?"

I buckle my seatbelt and shrug. "Just that it might get messy."

"The messier the better," Poppy chuckles to herself from the backseat.

Thirty minutes later, Poppy and I stand side by side (with far less enthusiasm) in our matching white aprons, blue rubber gloves and brown hairnets staring into a three sinks at the back of the kitchen inside luxurious Sunset Acres Retirement Village, a sprawling ten-story building with one hundred condo units, indoor pool, gym, movie theater, salon and restaurant for the 65 and over crowd.

"This is where we wash all the dishes. First, scrape off the leftovers into this trash can. Next, use this soapy water and sponges to give them a good scrub. Then, we rinse them, and dip them in a chemical bath to sanitize. Finally, put them here on the drying rack," explains the manager as she tugs at a stray hair poking out of her chin. "You've washed dishes before, right?"