“So, you all study and don’t work?” I clarify.
“Yep.” Lucy nods, and I feel an inch tall. Their parents must pay for everything.
The boys walk in and place the cardboard boxes on the table. When they open them, a heavenly smell wafts out. Jeremy takes two large slices and sits back down before he crams as much as he can into his mouth. As I take a small slice of pizza and a napkin, I marvel at just how different I am from them. While they’re out partying and sleeping in, I’ll be working.
After my belly is full, I say good night and go to my room. I lock the door before I lie down.
I could have been like them. Going to college was an option for me. I got the grades for it. I considered majoring in English, but in the end I wasn’t certain. I wasn’t going to get into that much debt without being one hundred percent sure what career I wanted. I thought I was doing the smart thing. Taking time off to consider my options. But according to my parents, I have the brains, so I should be going to college and making something of myself, not just being a waitress on minimum wage. I have a feeling their disappointment is based on the fact that they can’t brag to their friends at church about what I’m doing with my life rather than whether I’m happy and what I think is right for me.
My phone beeps. The message is from Henry, my ex-boyfriend, who I broke up with a while ago. We had been together since high school. He got into a college on the East Coast and intended to live on campus, but I didn’t want to have a long-distance relationship. Besides, we had grown apart long before we broke up.
The breakup had been amicable, and we still talk occasionally. I’m glad that there’s no bad blood between us and that we can still be friends. We’ve been close for so long.
Henry
How did the move go?
Good thanks.
At least someone cares, I think to myself.
I’ve met my roommates, they seem friendly.
That’s awesome. I look forward to hearing about it all.
I go back to my home screen. No phone call from my parents, asking if I arrived safe or if I’ve settled in okay. They were less than pleased about me moving and said I’m making a mistake. I wanted—no, I needed—to get out from under my parents’ judgement.
When I was searching for jobs, I saw a position as a waitress being advertised in Crown Village. Excited by the opportunity, I immediately applied. I was tired of being comatose, living but not alive. My roommates seem to be friends with the restaurant owner’s son, so that’s a positive considering they seem like a friendly group of people.
I pick up my reading glasses and put them on, then grab a romance novel from the nightstand and start to read. Soon I’m lost in stories about love, book boyfriends, and happily ever after, which are far better than my reality.
Two
Trying to Be Optimistic
Elena
Gazing at my reflection,I gather my long blond hair and tie it into a bun before I apply tinted moisturizer, mascara, and strawberry lip balm. I expel a breath. This will have to do. I’m wearing a black three-quarter skirt and a white blouse.
Knock, knock.“Come on, I’m busting to go to the toilet.” Jeremy’s voice filters through the bathroom door. If these boys are going to live here, sharing one upstairs bathroom with seven people isn’t going to work.
I push the door open, and he darts in and starts peeing in the toilet before I can even close the door behind me. I shudder. Gross!
“Tell Cameron I’ll see him tonight,” he calls out.
Back in my bedroom, I slip my handbag over my shoulder before I leave. I lock my door and go downstairs.
It’s quiet compared to last night. When I woke up at two a.m., I could hear their voices and music. Empty pizza boxes and beer bottles and glasses from last night are scattered across the coffee table. I hope this isn’t a daily occurrence, but I suspect it might be.
In the kitchen I pour water into a glass and take my anxiety medication out of my bag. I swallow my daily dose: two tablets. I’ve been on anxiety medication since high school, when I put so much pressure on myself to do well that my hands would shake.
“I’ve got this,” I say, trying to convince myself that I’m confident before I head out the front door.
I walk to my faded yellow Mini Cooper. It’s older than me, but despite a few bangs and scratches from my driving, it gets the job done. My seat creaks as I get in and settle while I open the GPS app on my phone. “Don’t let me down,” I mumble. My GPS says it’s a seven-minute drive, but I’m leaving early, in plenty of time before my shift starts at eleven.
My heart beats faster the closer I get to the restaurant. The town’s main road runs along the beach. The water is calm, and it lazily laps the shore. I see small shops to my left and palm trees scattered along the sidewalk.
The restaurant is just up ahead. As I approach, a car leaves an angled parking spot nearby. I put on my blinker, and after several attempts and a car horn blasting, I reverse park. When I get out of the car, I see that I parked a little too close to the line for comfort, but I ignore it and make my way to the sidewalk, trying to control my breathing with slow breaths.
