Page 17 of Doctor I Do

“How long have you worked here Ta-le-a?” He tsks.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek. He says my name incorrectly, but I’m the sweet girl, not the one who loses their cool at the workplace. Instead, I stand here, looking glum and nodding, keeping my focus on him, flinching with every spit word that comes toward me through his teeth. His hands are on his hips and he’s tapping a foot, waiting for my answer.

I want to say, “too long,” but he’s not worth it.

“Four years,” I reply.

“Exactly. And you still can’t make coffee,” he says, screwing up his face and shaking his head.

I don’t want to apologize, but I’m wondering how else to salvage this situation.

I stay silent, waiting for him to get everything off his chest before I can finish my shift.

“Do you think you can make another one without destroying it?”

“Yes.”

He huffs. “Well, get back there and make a fresh cup, and I’ll go calm the customers down and apologize for you.”

“I can do it,” I reply, not wanting him to do it for me. I’m capable of doing it myself.

He narrows his eyes at me, but I don’t shrink inside myself. I stare back at him, taking his insult on the chin. “I think you’ve done enough today. Just get back there and make a fresh cup of coffee.”

I don’t want this job anymore. I’m so done with it. I officially can’t take another second.

Removing my apron, I toss it on the counter with a deep breath. Then I straighten my spine. “You know what? I’m done!”

He crosses his arms over his chest. His bushy brows rise and pull further together. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tahlia. Put your apron on and get to work.”

I shake my head. “No. I quit.”

“Who is going to make the customer his new coffee?”

I shrug, uninterested. “You.”

“Fine. You were useless anyway!” he spits.

“Well then, it looks like I’m doing you a favor.”

His jaw ticks, but I spin on my heel, feeling the lightest I have in a very long time.

The buzz in my bag frightens me as I exit work, jobless. I rummage through my bag, but I can’t find my phone with the mountain of rubbish inside of it. I drop to the ground and follow the vibrations, my eyes widening as I see the name.

I accidentally hit the answer button. Bringing it up to my ear, I speak. “Mom. Hi.”

“Tahlia, darling, where have you been?”

A soft sigh slips out because I know the words that will spill from her mouth next. I mime them as she says them.

“When are you coming to visit? It’s been too long,” she whines, and I can’t help but smile to myself getting almost all the words correct.

“Soon, Mom.”

I don’t know how soon, but I figure it’s an answer that I can get out of. After today, I need to go home and search through jobs until I find something fulfilling.

I stand up and reposition the bag on my shoulder as I walk to a vacant bench. She will want to talk for a while, so I take a seat, scanning to check no one can hear our conversation.

“Where are you?”

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