We're Okay

They/Them

  For some reason, my subconscious seems to enjoy stress.

   Please allow me to explain via recap of my personal struggles.

   Number one. My grades are finally holding steady. That's not a good thing, because I have two C's, an F, and a D. The rest are B's; not terrific, but I'm in no position to complain about those. I will complain about how difficult it is to find extra credit.

   Secondly, Ira. I don't need to elaborate on that.

   Next, Bailey seems to be having worse shifts at work every day. I've taken her to another therapy session, and it was even more awkward this time because I was totally aware of Bailey's little crush on Celeste. I can't complain about this one because it's greedy of me. I can't ask to have another session to myself; it's selfish now that Bailey is allowed to come with me. She needs as much attention as me.

   Last but certainly not least, money. It's no secret that Bailey and I aren't exactly rich, but recently we've been struggling making ends meet.

   What am I going to do about all this? Get a job, of course. It won't be stellar by any means, but think of the money. Will my mental health suffer? Absolutely. Will I suffer in general? You betcha. Am I going to do it anyway? I wish I could say no.

   I'd already applied to a bakery a week ago, and I anxiously awaited the arrival of an email to accept or reject my application.

   "Hey, Ben," Bailey said, flopping down on the couch next to me after work. "What's up?"

   "I'm waiting to see if I got the job," I replied monotonously, still focused on the screen of our shared laptop. It would come any time now.

   "Oh. How long have you been sitting here?"

   "Long enough."

   Bailey rolled her eyes and hauled me up off the sofa.

   "Go do something," she ordered, "and I'll keep watch over the computer. Go cook or read to relax."

   Defeated and still anxious, I slowly walked to the kitchen to make dinner. It felt like decades had passed since I last cooked, although it was only yesterday that I'd burned a batch of fried wontons. We ate them anyway. They tasted horrendous.

   Tonight I was attempting to make them again, this time without burning them.

   I mixed the flour, eggs, salt, and water together, trying to get lost in the rhythm. It didn't work. My mind was on the email, and I glanced in Bailey's direction every few seconds to check on her. The suspense was seriously going to kill me.

   After a while, the wontons were ready to be fried. I had a pot of vegetable oil on the stove, ready to cook the wontons. Carefully, I placed two in the pot to fry.

   "Ben, there's an email in your inbox!"

   I swear on my life that I had never run quicker. Well, except for the time the ice cream truck was pulling out of the street and I hadn't gotten mine yet. That was some hard-earned ice cream.

   "Bailey, go save the wontons! They can't burn!"

   "I don't know how to cook!"

   "When they look golden, take them out!"

   "Got it!"

   I hastily opened my email, all thoughts of wontons wiped from my mind.

   It read;

   Dear Benjamin Lin,
We are pleased to inform you that you'll be our newest recruit at Dawn & Dusk Bakery. You will be our clerk. Your job includes completing orders that our customers request and manning the telephone for order placement...