Page 35 of Hearty

While Lily’s bones are beautiful, whoever the last manager was hadn’t done a very good job cataloging things. Once Alana went on maternity leave, things fell by the wayside, and she couldn’t keep on top of the person running the store. As such, the books are a mess, the back stock supply looks like my closet did in middle school, and there aren’t very good systems in place.

I spend much of the morning with the sign turned on the door, ensuring that no customers will come in wanting to shop. I use a spreadsheet method to catalog how much product we have of each item, stocking those that are low on the floor and rearranging a lot of the shelves so that similar products are highlighted in the same section.

By the time I break to get a coffee and a scone, I’ve worked up a light sweat and am panting.

Just as I’m about to dig into my little reward treat for such good work thus far, the door creaks open, even though I know the sign on the window says we’re closed.

The bell rings over top of it, and in walks my roommate. The roommate who I definitely didn’t fantasize about when I heard the shower water running through the walls this morning.

I woke this morning with a pounding headache and dry mouth. I almost forgot why I didn’t go out in college more, but then I have nights like last evening, and I remember I hate starting my day this way. Even now, I still feel the dull pulse at my temples, and it throbs just enough to be annoying and keep me from harder work.

What’s worse is that Evan drove me home last night, and I don’t remember it. Or much of the last hours at the bar. I feel ashamed for getting that drunk, as I always do with that much alcohol in my system, because I don’t know if I embarrassed myself. The “hangxiety,” as they call it, is really today.

“Place looks like it’s being whipped into shape,” he comments, giving me a thumbs-up as he walks to the checkout counter where I was sipping my coffee.

“Hi. Uh, yes. I’m trying, at least.” I give him a small smile.

“While Kelly was very nice, she probably wasn’t the best manager to hire. Alana was in a pinch with the baby coming, though. I’m glad you’re here to give it the facelift it needs, you’re much more suited and capable.”

The compliment hits me right in the heart, and I want to beam.

“Thank you, that means a lot. I’ve got a ways to go, but this place has much more potential than is being used. A little elbow grease and it will shine.”

“Definitely.”

An awkward silence passes, and I get this strange feeling in my gut. My neck hairs prickle like something bad is coming.

“We should talk about last night.” He circles the table again, picking up a knickknack as if he needs something to do with his hand.

My stomach drops. Oh God, what did I do when I was drinking?

“Did I try to grope you or something?” I laugh nervously, trying to make a joke out of the whole thing, but that was definitely the stupidest thing I could say.

Please, dear God, I hope I did not do that.

He shakes his head, scratching his jaw awkwardly. “No, uh, you didn’t. But you did say something. And normally, I wouldn’t bring it up because I don’t want you to be embarrassed. But I hate that you told me something like this and probably don’t remember. So, now, I’m just walking around with this piece of information, and it feels like I shouldn’t have it unless you know you gave it to me? That sounds stupid when I say it out loud, but I swear I’m trying to be noble?”

Evan sounds completely unsure of himself, of even coming here, and I’m shaking with panic inside, but I’m also confused. If I don’t remember, why can’t he just keep it to himself?

“I’m not sure—” I start to speak, but he cuts me off.

“You were drunk, and I drove you home. We almost got up to the door of the house, and you said … well, I asked why you didn’t get that guy’s number, the one you danced with?”

The conversation doesn’t even ring a bell, and I’m horrified with myself that I had so many drinks. When I don’t say anything, because my heart is blocking my throat, Evan continues.

“Anyway, you said you weren’t interested in him. That you were only interested in one guy in high school, and maybe Hope Crest in general? You said that you’d been into him for years, but he hadn’t noticed you.”

Oh dear God, no. Please, please, do not let me have been so stupid. Fuck, no, no.

“And then you said, well, you said that guy was me. That you’d always had a crush on me, and that I didn’t know you existed. And I feel really horrible for not stopping you before you said it, but now I know and I also feel so guilty for knowing while you might not remember that I do know? It’s all confusing, but I thought we should probably just get it all out on the table.”

I want to die. I want to shrivel up and fall into the ground under this shop and simply die. The mortification alone might do the trick.

My whole body is hot and cold, and bile is rising in my throat as if I might throw up. My hands are shaking slightly, and the room seems to spin as panic grips me by the neck.

A choking noise comes out of my mouth the first time I attempt to speak, and I flush even hotter at the humiliating noise. Clearing my throat, I try again.

“Evan, I apologize. I was drunk and probably saying stupid things. I, uh …” How the hell do I put an end to this interaction?

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