Escaping Our Names

Pastel Cash

Larken left right after signing some papers and went out to look for a job and an apartment. Yet the thing was, you couldn't get one without having the other. He spent the day wandering the damp town with his headphones in and his hood up. Larken felt numb to the cold and his feelings. He was just so tired of dealing with all of this bullshit. He let out a sigh as he entered yet another coffee shop. This one was different than the rest of the Starbucks and fast food places. It was a small building squished between an old boutique and a Mexican diner. It was old and run down on the outside with wet, brown brick walls and ivy growing up it and around the barred windows, yet inside was a wonderland. The second Larken entered the dim lit store, he breathed in a huff of the sweet, musty smell of the hundreds of books, new and used, that covered the walls and the floor. Larken stared at the old bookshelves that were sighing and bending in order to hold the weight of the array of novels. The walls were painted a faded lilac and the the floor was old wood that was coming up in the corners. On the left side of the store, there was a long counter and behind it pounds of coffee making machinery littered the walls and countertops. Larken hadn't realized he was staring and standing utterly still for the longest time until he heard someone clearing their throat.
"Excuse me, but may I help you?" It was a teenage girl who stood behind the cashier in a blue apron and a green collared shirt. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, and she was hunched over the counter where there was a pile of sugar splayed out into some sort of shape.
"Um. Yeah, sorry. I was looking for job openings? I wasn't sure if you had any...or?" Larken moved inside a little and looked at the girl. She looked up at him under her eyelashes in a bored expression and then she squinted, like she was inspecting him. After that she went back to her sugar art.
"You have to ask Geda, the old woman. She owns the place," the girl said in a bored tone.
Larken looked around lost, and then decided to just take a look around himself and see if he happened upon a random old woman. He weaved in and out the bookshelves, fantasized by all the little capsules that held an entire world inside. He finally came across a corner where there was an old wooden chair that held up and old woman. She looked like she was somewhat younger than Lila's great aunt, but she was getting up there. She sat in the chair and was fully developed into the book in her hands.
"Hello," Larken said, but got no response.
"Excuse me?" The woman just went on reading. Larken bent down to the woman's height and repeated himself louder, and this time he got a response. A response he didn't expect, but a response nonetheless. The woman smacked him hard right on the cheek. Larken fell to the side, but caught himself midway.
"Ow!"
"Godammit boy! It is rude to sneak up on an old lady while she is lost in a book!"
"I'm sorry," Larken said," I honestly wasn't trying to."
"And I apologize for hitting you. Now-" The woman shut her book as Larken stood back up, rubbing his face.
"What can I hit you with, I mean help you with?" The woman smiled at her own joke, and Larken half smiled back.
"I was actually wondering about a job opening? I'm a rough situation at the moment and it would mean the world to me if you could let me do an interview," Larken said. The woman put on her glasses that were sitting on top of her graying hair and rested her chin on her fist that was on her crossed knee.
"Black?"she asked him and it took a few seconds for him register what the woman meant, then he realized.
"Yes, thank you." They stood up and Larken followed the woman through the stacks to the front.
"Claire, two cups of strong black."
"On it." The blonde girl up front started to make two cups of coffee as Larken and the old woman took a seat at one of the small painted tables with mismatched chairs.
"I am Glenda, or Geda. I am the owner and up there," she pointed to the coffee machines," Is Claire. She was in trouble too and we came upon a compromise. I think we might come across one of our own." Claire placed two mugs, one a light green, the other a dark blue, on old woven coasters in front of them. "Thank you Claire."
"Thank you," Larken muttered. He took a sip of the steaming coffee, and regretted it the second the liquid hit his tounge. Now he wasn't going to be able to taste anything for awhile.
"Tell me about yourself," Geda said. Larken put down his coffee and cross his hands in front of him.
"Um. My name's Larken. I'm in high school and I was recently kicked out of my home and sued by my parents." He twiddled his thumbs and looked down as he spoke. Giving this information was a sure enough way to not get the job, but he wanted to out evweythung out there. He was quite aware that Geda was staring intensely at him and Claire was eavesdropping from behind the counter. "I don't have a place at the moment, just going from place to place, and I need a job to pay for the suit. So yeah... I haven't been able to find any job that was willing to hire me because of my situation, so I would understand if you wouldn't want to let me have an interview."
"Boy, what do you think this is? This is the interview, and of course I'll let you work here," Geda said with a smile. "It's my thing. Taking in lost children." Geda leaned in and whispered," Claire had it worse than you, so you better respect her. She's like my daughter, you know." She leaned back. "And hopefully you can be like my new son." Larken was still staring at her in shock. He actually came across the place that looked like pure heaven to him, and that same place was going to be where he worked everyday now.
"Thank you so very much," Larken said, trying to keep his cool.
"And about a place to live..." Geda turned to look at Claire. Claire smiled finally and looked at Larken.
Geda turned to Larken and said," I live right behind here. Claire has her own room and we still have a spare."
"Are you saying that I can move in and work here? You don't anything about me," Larken said.
"I know you enjoy stories as much as us, by the way you looked at this place, and I can tell you have a good soul," Geda said.
"And you're kinda not ugly too," Claire added. Larken looked at her.
"Thanks," he said and she winked as she wiped down the counters.
"Wait," Larken turned back to Geda," How much is rent and how much it my pay?"
"Eighteen and hour and laundry and dishes." Larken smiled on the inside. He shook hands with Geda.
"Deal."

Lila plopped on her bed and let out a much needed sigh. She shut her burning eyes and thought of Larken. Then she got lost in her daydreams of the future again. This time it slowly became a dream instead. She was walking the streets of New York City and she was the only person around without an umbrella in the rain storm and she was so happy, but she couldn't stop thinking that she was so alone. Lila woke up a few hours later, and grabbed an empty notebook. She laid down with a pen and began writing. She didn't stop until the sun had set and the birds had gone.

We were like water and fire. You were my jazz records, I was your Shakespeare novel. I was on the winds, you were on the waves. We met inbetween, singing our ballads, and racing to the finish. We never looked back, for if we did...we'd realize that were just each other's babies too young to love.

Larken's parents were sent a Milla folder full of papers. The mailman left it on the porch, making sure the IMPORTANT and CLASSIFIED stamp was facing up. Mr. Hudes came home around ten-forty and picked it up from the steps. He kicked open the door and tossed aside his stuff, throwing the folder on the couch in the stufffy living room, letting it hit Mrs. Hudes' thighs. She looked up at her husband as he snorted as he inhaled roughly through his right nostril. She carefully opened it and slowly pulled out the stack of papers. The front had the words AMANCIPATION written in bold. They both could see it in the darkness. Mrs. Hudes hands began to shake as Mr. Hudes vocal chords invidually split into threads.