Want For Not

Want For Not: Part 2

The night was moving along smoothly. At least I wasn't having to work alone tonight. I was cleaning a glass chess board, each piece in the set being a perfectly preserved finger that was sealed in glass. Delicate, pale fingers to one side, crooked, harsh looking fingers to the other. All the while, I heard Elise at the counter greeting a rough looking man who came in. His huge beard, heavy boots, and outdoor attire would have easily made him fit in on any hunting trail. I could smell the scent of tobacco on him even from well across the room. He had been carrying a sort of sack, which he sat on the counter in front of her to open.

Obviously, he had come to sell rather than buy. That made me pay slightly more attention from afar. While I trusted Elise to handle the preservation of our inventory and make sales here and there, I was weary about her buying things. She was definitely new to this line of work. Any work, actually. She had confessed to me during her interview that this was her first job.

For the first month, I made sure to keep her focused on the cleaning while I handled the people. In her second month, I finally allowed her to touch the register. This being her third month, I was finally, painfully, might I add, allowing her to engage with clients and customers. All through this time, I was ever vigilant and adamant about reminding her of the various rules within the shop. After all, if we don't adhere to rules, then we're nothing but savages- and not to mention our inventory could cause a lot of harm if not handled appropriately.

I tried my best to give her a little independence. Baby birds have to fly at some point. I just wasn't the type to risk kicking her out of the nest just to see what happens. Especially not here. One mistake could be horrendous. I prided myself on handling any and all damage control concerning the shop, specifically before the boss found out. So here I was now, polishing the same chess set continuously because it was conveniently placed where I could see her at work yet not too close to hear their exchange or look like some overprotective big brother that was suffocating her existence.

I tried to study her face, looking for any sign of uncertainty. Whatever he had placed on the counter was hidden in front of him. I would have to fight every cell in my body not to rush over there if I heard that till open. I would need to force myself to hang back until he was out of the shop to see what had taken place. I could see her shake her head at him, gently swaying her long black hair that fell in waves over her shoulders. She must not have been saying what he wanted to hear. An unhappy customer. My anxiety was steadily climbing. He could be one of those crazies. I needed to assure myself that this was fine. She needed to learn how to handle any and all situations on her own. I wouldn't always be here to swoop in and save the day. No matter what was happening over there, I wouldn't get involved.

Again, she shook her head, her eyebrows creased apologetically over her empathetic blue eyes. The man slapped the counter hard, causing her to flinch back some. He was yelling now, "I know what the hell I'm talking about! I've been hunting my whole life! I ain't gonna have some little girl tell me what's what! My damn boots are even older than you!"

Not going to get involved. I polished and polished even harder. This was her deal. She didn't need me. I didn't need to get involved. This was all a part of the job. She was a big girl. She could handle it. This was a learning and growing experience. This was for the best. It needed to be done. Let the little birdie fly. I heard him hit the counter again. This time, I could see he was pointing his finger in her face. Going to get involved. This is my deal. She needed me. I needed to get involved. This is my job. She shouldn't have to handle this. This was a headache of an experience. This was not for the best. It needed to be stopped. The birdie can wait to fly.

I came right to her side, meeting her gaze for only a moment as quick reassurance before turning to stand before the man. She took a small step back as if to hand over the proverbial reins. The tobacco smell was most definitely stronger and more pungent up close. His face was hard and weathered. His hands were dry and callused, probably from all that hunting he had mentioned earlier. When he saw me, he seemed to calm down a peg. He let out a sigh as if to say finally, someone else to talk to. Poor Elise.