Seasons came and went, time passed, things changed. Shortly after the summer, Nicky found her biological mom, and went off to live with her. Nicky and I had grown apart after her incident with Irish man, she became more distant. Her energy changed to something foreign, something cold. Soon I didn't know her songs anymore, and she didn't know mine. After that, she left, moved out to Westfield, some dump of a town, that reflected the rest of the open stretches of shitty America. She took the car.
I lost contact with Irish man soon after, and had to take a new job, as a waitress/dish washer a Tasty Subz. A corporate commercial chain of restaurants. I met new people there, who worked there, started over a little. I quickly became friends with one girl, Ruby. We spent most of our time laughing at some other waitress, a girl named Rebecca, whom both of us despised. Ruby was trying to save up her money so she could get into an art college, get as far as away as she could from this fucking place.
I felt the same way, but I didn't plan on college at all. I had a slightly different idea, although before when I was younger and idealistic, I wanted to find an art college, somewhere nice. But that was before I came to understand that my sketches and doodles just weren't enough to make money. That a person with an art degree wasn't worth much more than a homeless person who finger paints with their own shit. My ideas for now where to find a way to San Francisco, live in the Castro or something, see the Golden Gate Bridge. Be a poor, hippie in the park, with tangled dreads and a swarm of flies always nearby. Or maybe I'd get a van, travel around the country and then write a book about it. Of course, the book probably wouldn't sell, and I'd end up pushing around a shopping cart full of cans, mumbling about the government under my breath. Either way, I didn't plan on becoming a productive member of society.
Weeks passed, and I stopped talking to Nicky altogether. All of her flaws seemed to stand out, and her energy started to piss me off. I lost contact with her too. My hair grew out, but I kept it black, bleaching the tips blonde. I spent more time working, trying to save money, I let waves of energy pass over me. I stopped caring.
I was switched to the morning shift, leaving my afternoons open. Ruby was out setting tables, and I started up the huge dented metal industrial dishwasher, which clanged and groaned as if the weight of the world was pressing down on it. Unfortunately, Rebecca was on the same shift as us. She was outside, taking an 'early morning break', inhaling a Newport. She always had some story to tell us, some way of trying to get attention. What she'd been telling us recently, was that she was pregnant, that she'd 'accidentally' skipped her birth control, that she'd missed her period.
I won't lie, I've been dealing with people like that all my life, the drama-starters, the bullshitters, the people who talk for attention. Who can't live without it. Who hasn't dealt with it? And if you haven't dealt with it, well, then you're probably the attention-whore. Right now, Rebecca wanted Ruby and I to be all concerned, to be all worried for her. To go out and say, “No! Don't smoke! You're pregnant! Think of the child!!” But neither of us were going to do that for her. Nobody cared enough, we'd had enough bullshit. To be honest, we were both hoping that she was pregnant, so that she'd have to leave. Let her be someone else's problem.
Ruby walked up with the excess cutlery. I was sitting atop the make table, where subs where prepped, wrapped up in paper with a rubber band snapped around the middle and sent off. My legs swung as I observed my scuffed up old Converse. Ruby sighed, “Is she still fucking out there?” I leaned my head towards the door and took a deep breath.
“Yes.”
“Goddammit.” Ruby swore under her breath. She paced a little, jittery on her feet. “That fucking physco.” She couldn't stand Rebecca. I had much more experience dealing with people like that, but Ruby had a zero level tolerance for bullshit. She couldn't deal with Rebecca at all.
“Speak of the devil” I sang, as Rebecca walked through the back door.
