The Rendezvous // Thomas Sangster

You Could Probably Spread It With the Same Knife Too

"I'm leaving the keys on the counter in the back." Mrs. Allison says, jangling the keys in her hands, "Just start to clean up around 9:30 and close up by 10:00, or a bit earlier. You won't expect many customers around here after 9:00, so closing won't be that big of a deal." 

I nod, politely, "Yes, ma'am. I don't expect I'll have any trouble."

Mrs. Allison smiles at me. She's a short woman with gray hair that she always has up in a tight bun, and her eyes are a friendly blue. I've been working here for a week and a half, and I quite like it. The people in town are nice, and I'm definitely elated by the fifty percent discount I get on ice cream here. Mrs. Allison has done nothing but sing my praises since I've began working, and Dylan has had a lot of fun teasing me about how Mrs. Allison would soon start looking into adoption papers and legal documents so she could write me in her will. 

"Oh, I do wish you were here permanently, Stephanie. I could use more hard working, trustworthy employees like you." She says fondly.

I smile, waving it off, "Come on, Mrs. Allison, stop. You'll make me blush."

"You'll make me barf!" I hear Dylan yell from the back room.

I laugh, as Mrs. Allison teasingly calls, "Hush now, Dylan, I'm talking to my favorite employee!"  

"I found Stephanie for you, and this is the thanks I get?" Dylan says, walking into the front room, shaking his head, "Being treated like scum!"

"You certainly are not." Mrs. Allison says, turning back to me, "Now, you call if you need anything, all right?"

I affirm, "Yes, Mrs. Allison, you have my word."

"Excellent. You two be good." She says, walking out the door. She gives Dylan a pointed look, "Don't you burn down my shop, you hear?" And then she disappears behind the door.

Dylan calls after her, "Oh, come on, that one one time! It was only a candle--the fire alarm over-reacted!" 

I chuckle as he sighs, sitting in a chair behind the counter, "She's very nearly in love with you, you know." 

I roll my eyes, "She is not, you dingus."

"No, I swear, she is. She has a son that's only a few years older than you, you know. I heard her on the phone in the back earlier with him. Saying something about arranged marriage...possible kidnapping...grandchildren..."

I throw my head back, chortling, "Dylan, shut up, you're full of it. No one is going to kidnap me--especially not Mrs. Allison."

He holds his hands up, defensively, "Hey, I'm just putting you on your guard."

"Whatever." I chuckle, "Get back to work, Dylan, we're not being paid to loaf."

He smirks, standing and muttering, "So bossy."

The rest of the evening shift goes smoothly. People come in, buy ice cream and leave again. Dylan and I banter back and forth, making the airy shop fill with the sound of our laughter. Dylan and I have grown close over the past week and a half that we've been working together, and it's safe to say that he's probably one of my best friends here in Seal County. 

At about 9:00, after a long, tiring shift, Dylan has his head rested on the counter, his eyes closed from fatigue. I too am tired, and stretch my arms out, trying to keep myself awake for the last hour of work. Mrs. Allison was right. Even after eight, we'd only had a couple costumers come in. Dylan's slow breathing and the hum of the freezers are synchronized.   

Finally, I poke Dylan awake. He lifts his head, groggily blinking sleep from his eyes. I mutter, "Hey, Dylan. Why don't you go on home. I'll hang around here until 10:00 and close up."