Two More Months

Chapter Two

I went to work on Monday August 10th, still pondering on what to do about going to the park. I was surprised when my boss tapped on my shoulder.
       His name was Peyton. Peyton had dark brown hair that was as straight as a line, like me. He was around 5'8 and in his thirties. His nose was so big you couldn't miss it. He always wore jeans and a green or red sweater to honor Christmas. Peyton loved that holiday because of all the gifts he received, he was a cheap guy. He had bags under his eyes because he was up all night with his newborn child.  He said, "You're the new waitress right?"
      I frowned but he didn't seem to notice. He just stood there, biting his lip, and waiting for a response. I had worked at Mocha, a café, every weekday for twelve hours for the past four years. I just didn't care enough to argue. "Yes, that's me."
"The customers need to feel this is a home. It'll bring more business." He began. "So you need to fill out this survey."
"Okay." I replied grimly.
"Now what's your name?"
"Maddison Avery Yardley."
"Mhhmmm...got a nickname?" He mumbled scribbling my name down.
"May, my initials."
"Just write about stuff like that."
    He handed over the paper and walked away proudly. I wondered how it felt to actually care about your profession. I always wanted to become an artist, and I still submitted applications to art schools and competitions, but it wasn't the same.
    It wasn't a survey at all, it was just a blank piece of paper. I wrote down my nickname; May. Next I wrote down my birthday and age. That's when the trouble arose. What else should I write about?
    I glimpsed upon a girl reading the book "Thirteen Reasons Why." I hated that book. It was about a girl who committed suicide, which I couldn't understand. Who would choose to die? Finally, I got the idea to write about things I loved and hated. I wrote my favorite and least favorite book, food, TV show, animal, color, etc. Then I thought about my favorite place, the park. I loved parks! I hated my diminutive studio apartment, and that was my whole life.
    I began to think about how people were going to remember me. A girl who didn't go to college and apparently was a "new waitress." I was determined not to cry here, but I felt my cheeks burn. That's when I realized I had to go to the park tomorrow. Maybe this was stupid, but I can't be remembered this way. I wanted to go out with a bang, be someone worth remembering. So far, this "survey" was just telling some customer that this waitress's favorite color was teal. No one would remember that. I had to go to the park, I almost didn't care I let my entire life be based on what some note had told me to do.