Page 7 of Like You Want It
CHAPTER TWO
CARLY
Two hours later, I’ve yoga’d, eaten, showered, shaved, beautified, and doodled the scene from this morning in my sketchbook.
I might not be as astounding as my mother was when it comes to art, but I can hold my own. And drawing a cartoon version of Fin standing angrily in my doorway as my eyes lit him on fire was incredibly therapeutic.
Though, maybe it was a little dark in comparison to what I normally sketch.
Once I’m done attempting to reclaim my morning, I drive the six blocks to work. I might be a hipster that loves the environment and practices yoga and eats organic. But I’m also a millennial who loves cheeseburgers and doing my hair and makeup. I had to spend a lot of time getting ready this morning due to a certainsomeonegiving me these nasty bags under my eyes, so… no thanks on the post-walk sweatiness that overtakes me when I hoof it to work. I’ll be driving, thanks.
“Good morning!” I chirp to a couple that steps up to the counter. “What can I get you today?”
Most people would probably think that keeping this big ass smile on my face is hard because I’m so exhausted and my life is so difficult and whiney blah blah about my rough night. But that would be far from the truth. I’m the smiliest person I know.
When I was in elementary school, there was this group of girls who came up to me at a lunch table where I was reading a book and they were likewhy do you smile all the time even when you read? You’re so weird, Carlyin their nasaliest evil little girl voices. And being the me I have always been meant to be, I looked right back at them with that same smile and saidbeing weird is so awesome! Wanna be weirdo friends together?And then I grabbed another book from my sparkly unicorn backpack and handed it to the girl who had given me her sassiest face, and went straight back to reading.
Dina Giannetti and I are still best weirdo friends to this day.
“I’ll take your largest coffee, black, please. And a banana nut muffin, to go.”
“Well that soundsdelicious,” I say, grabbing the cup and slipping on a collar. “Do you want your muffin warmed up?”
The woman nods, and I step over to grab the muffin with a pair of tongs, popping it into the microwave, then head back to fill the coffee cup. By the time I’m done, the microwave dings. I hand everything over, accept a payment and then send them on their way with the same big smile.
“I don’t know how you keep your face like that all day without your muscles revolting in protest.”
I turn and aim my megawatt, pearly whites at my favorite little helper, Jet Larson. He’s one of those guys who never looks like he wants to be at work. My boss, Lonnie, says it was a mistake hiring him, but I think he’s coming around.
A little bit.
Maybe.
Okay, so he’s just as surly as the day he interviewed.
He’s what I like to refer to aseveryday emo. I mean, I don’t say that shit to his face. He’d probably just roll his eyes at me, but there’s a chance he could be offended, so I just keep it to myself. But I think of him that way because he’s definitely notfancy emo.
Fancy emo is the term I use for people who aggressively style themselves in the emo trend. Shaggy long hair that’s dyed black and covering half their face, lots of makeup and piercings and an everlasting sullen facial expression. Think Marilyn Manson or Billy Joe Armstrong.
Everyday emo is my term for the people who have the sullen expressions and bedraggled hair, but it’s mostly because they literally just rolled out of bed. They usually have wrinkly clothes pulled from a pile on their floor, the bags under their eyes are natural and not with the assistance of makeup, and the hair in their face is because they don’t do anything with it.
Jet is everyday emo.
And I love it.
I might look like I was a cheerleader in high school, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. I was an art and drama nerd, through and through, so I spent a lot of time with kids who were just like Jet. I’d like to think those are my people, but honestly, I usually put them off a little bit.
It’s hard to spend time with a blinding ray of sunshine when your craft is based on your ability to see in the dark.
Part of me feels bad because Jet’s appearance necessitates that I critique him nearly every day.You have to wear a shirt without stains. You have to be polite to the customers. You can’t have your hair all over like that, so go put on a hair net.
I think that was my favorite day ever, seeing him with his hair in that net. He never wore his hair loose again, that’s for sure.
I know I could have hired someone who would be more customer service friendly. But I like Jet. He’s fresh out of high school and trying to figure out his life. I remember being there. And honestly? There’s just something special about him, and I feel like this is the right place for him to be right now.
Lonnie also tells me hiring with my feelings is a bad thing. But then I turn his finger right around and point it at his own chest and remind him that he hiredmebased on a feeling. That’s when he usually starts grumbling and says something about that having been the worst mistake of his life.
My heart swells just thinking about it.
