Page 51 of Latte Girl
Tired
Hailey
“How was your hot date?”asks Brittney, as we stand side by side, stacking up a load of clean dishes on the shelves behind the cafedisplaycase.
“It went well,” I answer, unable to keep a huge grin offmyface.
“Oh I know that smile. That’s the ‘I Totally Got Laid’smile.”
Brittney sets the last plate down and leans against the prep counter. “Tell me everything,” shedemands.
“It was just really...it was a really good date,” I begin, resigning myself to giving her the whole story. “I took him to my favourite cafe and we sat and talked for forever. Then he brought me to this park he likes and after that we walked around the city for a bit. I don’t know what it is, but we just get along so well. It all feels so easy with him,youknow?”
Brittney raises her eyebrows at me. “Oh I bet you were easywithhim.”
I smack her with the towel I have thrown over my shoulder and head back to the kitchen for another load ofdishes.
“Come on, give me the dirty details!” she begs, trailingafterme.
“Well, we did go back to his placeafter...”
“And he fucked yourbrainsout?”
This girl sure ispersistent.
“Yes Brittney, he fucked mybrainsout.”
She starts applauding and Lisa, who’s supervising today, gives us a look and shakes her head before turning back to the batter she’s mixing. Britney and I grab more dishes and head back to thefront.
“So when are you seeing himagain?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. “To be honest, he’s been kind of distantsincethen.”
“Don’t worry about that. That’s just a game some guys liketoplay.”
I hope she’s wrong. I picture Jordan’s face when he asked me to trust him, and try to stop myself from doubting myanswer.
“I’m really tired of games,” I tellBrittney.
“You just have to learn how to win. Then they’re fun,” she answersbrightly.
“You’re a man eater, Brittney Larson,” Itease.
She nods solemnly. “With a healthyappetite.”
A rush of customers starts up soon after that, and any lingering doubts about Jordan get pushed to the back of my mind as I spend the next couple hours filling up endless takeaway cups for the caffeine deprivedmasses.
When I finally get a chance to take my lunch break, I grab the egg salad sandwich I brought from home and take a seat at the table closest to the window, doing my best to tune out the humming of the neon ‘Open’ sign overhead. I set my sandwich down in front of me and then check my phone. There’s a message fromJordan.
What time are you finishedtoday?
I consider giving him the same sort of vague answer he’s been giving me. That’s probably what Brittney would advise, but like I told her, I’m done withgames.
Three. I’m on the early morning shift this week (ugh) but I have to leave right away forAmanda.
The ‘Who Will Look After Amanda?’ problem has been getting harder and harder to solve. The centre my mom works at is low on staff, and trying to align her increasingly insane schedule with mine feels like mashing a square into acircle.
Mom has started looking into daycares, but even if the prices weren’t so daunting, one of us would still need to be around to drop Amanda off and pick her up. The fact that I even had a chance to go ononedate with Jordan feels like some sort of miracle bestowed by the gods of timemanagement.
