The Blind Date

Chapter Two

Chapter two:

…Two weeks later…

I slammed the clock that was my alarm clock, it was four in the morning and I was late for work.  The joys of working at a coffee shop, you work eight hour shifts at times most kids your age are just going to bed.  I picked myself up off my bed, sleep deprived and soar.  It was going to be a long day.  I got dressed in a zombie like way, one eye half open while the other is completely out. 

I did not want to go in to work today.  And my attitude showed it, I was tired and more than once did I fall asleep while taking a costumer’s order.  My manager was furious and ordered for me to take a break in the break room.  I was more than happy to abide.  I feel asleep, not anticipating she would follow.  She woke me up, sat down next to me and made me explain why I was so tired.

“Late night,” I explained yawning.

“Well drink some coffee Jayden,” she insisted.  This was almost always her answer for waking up, I think Caroline may have been a caffeine addict.  Caroline Green is a tall woman in her thirties; she has mousy brown hair and green eyes that contradicted with the red aprons we were to wear.   She was somewhat intimidating, partly due to her height.

“I don’t like coffee,” I said.

She blinked a few times, “But you work at a coffee shop.”

“It’s hard to explain.”

Caroline shook her head, “Nonetheless, find a way to stay awake.  You’re making the costumers tired.”

“That or it’s the time.”

“Don’t be a smart alack Jayden.”

I nodded my head, “Touché”.

Caroline stood up, and looked at me.  Apparently my break was over.  I stood up and left the break room, greeted by the long line of costumers.  I let out one last yawn before taking over the next register; it was going to be a long morning.

“You up now Jayden?”  Scarlett asked.  Scarlett Watson is one of my co-workers; she is a year older than me, has a strong British accent, and is, in a lack of a better word, enthusiastic about her looks.  I wouldn’t call it slutty, but it was close.  Her black hair took hours, her make-up was probably more suited for a night club, and it was a stretch to even call her shirts, “shirts”.  But she was really a sweet girl; she just hid behind her make-up and hair from what I think to be insecurity.  I wasn’t entirely sure; I haven’t quite figured Scarlett out yet.

“Mostly,” I said, as I greeted another costumer, I held in a yawn.

“Great, so you wouldn’t believe what Jackson did!”  She squealed.

Jackson is her boyfriend of a year, and I didn’t particularly like him.  I call him Jackass Jackson, and he calls me Gayden.  We don’t get along.  He’s not very attractive with a buzz cut, a fairly large belly, and just an overall look that screamed the “Chat room stalker” type.  Yet, Scarlett couldn’t see it.  She would always preach of the inner beauty he had and how he was really sweet.  Yet all I could see was the stains on his shirt and hear the sleazy language he spoke.

“What did he do?” I asked, I wasn’t entirely interested in hearing about Jackass-Jackson, but I figured it was my part to uphold the conversation with an answer, even if I would have preferred no answer.

“He wrote me a letter and he called it, ‘My Scarlet Letter’,” she squealed while half pushing my arm, “isn’t that just adorable!”

“Adorable.”  I frankly thought of it to be overdone, uncreative, and I was half certain Nathan gave him that idea.  Nathan was one of our regular costumers although he came here more for Scarlett rather than the coffee.  Scarlett was completely naïve about it, often called me crazy for even suggesting it.

I didn’t have any more costumers in my line; most of them went to Scarlett’s line, which was anticipated.  Even Nathan did this; I would have virtually no one in my line and Scarlett would have seven in her line and he would wait in her line.  Another detail Scarlett refuses to acknowledge when I tell her Nathan likes her.  I think she may be in denial.

I yawned as I put my arms on the counter, leaning over and setting my head on them, turning to look at Scarlet.  If I was going to have no one in my line, I was going to be comfortable.

“You alright,” she asked, “you seem kind of distant.”

“Yeah, just kind of had a weird dream last night.” I said.  Which was true, it was weird and it was about Hayden.  It was the usual dream of where you’re running from something, you’re not sure what, but you run.  And there’s something in the distance, you’re not sure what, but you run to it.  It was Hayden.  I was running to Hayden.  And every time I would get closer, he would get farther away, I could never reach him.  I explained this to Scarlett; she took it all in, taking a while to reply.  I figured she was focused too much on counting the change.

“Who’s Hayden?” She asked.

I paused.  Shit.  I never told Scarlett.  I had my reasons for not telling Scarlett, partly because she would overreact.  If there was a cute boy in the shop and he would look at me, Scarlett would squeal, puff my hair up, and make up an excuse for me to meet him.  “Make me proud young one,” she often would say.  If she found out I was on a date she would have fainted.

The bell rung on the door as another costumer entered, I didn’t look up.  They would go to Scarlett’s line anyway.

“A,” I stammered before clearing my throat, “Uh a guy I met a few weeks back.”  Scarlett nodded and looked up, there must have been another person added to her line.

“So Jayden,” she said, “Is this Hayden cute?”

“Extremely.”

“One to ten?”

“Eleven.”

“Would you ever date him?”

“It’s a possibility.”

There was a pause.  “I think it’s more than a possibility.”

I froze, my eyes widen as I quickly stood up straight, regretting what I would find.  It was Hayden.