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Bah... I'll never get this to be long enough... we'll here's the next part. :)
I’m usually a closer. Most of the other employees at Common Grounds complain about the late hours, especially since the closers tend to have the most work to do, but I prefer it to earlier in the day. There are fewer customers, and you can take your time. There’s no pre-opening rush to try and get the store ready on time. Mostly, I’m the only one who feels this way, though Lizzie gets it a little, I think.
“I’m a night person,” she tells me, wiping off the milk that has dried on the espresso machine. “I don’t mind closing.”
I nod, since I am too.
“Besides, some of the most interesting people come in at night. Like that lady who came in last week and ordered six espressos. I make up little stories in my head sometimes about that kind of thing. Like maybe she’s addicted to caffeine and she sneaks out of her house at night to ease the cravings.”
“You’re crazy.”
Lizzie grins. “Maybe.” She looks around the empty shop, then back at me. “I’m gonna make a hot chocolate. Want any?”
“No.” I watch her as she moves away from the register. “I think you’re the one with addiction.”
She laughs. “I’m a chocoholic.” She tilts her head. “Do you think they have support groups for that?”
“It’s called counseling.”
“Eh, too boring. Besides, I like my addiction.”
“Denial.”
“Nope. Acceptance. Hot chocolate can solve any problem.”
I look out the window. “Not any problem.”
“Any problem.” She nods. “You’re too pessimistic.”
“I’m a realist.”
“That’s another word for pessimist.” I shrug, and she sighs. Then she tilts her head and gets that deep, concentrating look. Like she’s about to say something profound. Only, it usually means that she’s about to ask a question. Which she does. “What’s something that makes you happy?”
“Should something?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t know.”
“C’mon… not even fuzzy little bunny rabbits?”
“I’m not really a fuzzy bunny kind of guy.” And then she laughs, because it’s true. And I laugh, because I hadn’t meant it to be funny, but it’s good to make someone smile. I’m not really happy, but it’s a break from the monotony. I still like the blankness, but there’s something to be said about laughter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I’m wide awake, still,” Lizzie says, staring at the clock. We’re finishing up alone, since the other guy who had been helping us had to duck out early. Something about a party. “I don’t feel like just going home.”
“So don’t,” I say.
“But what could I do? Steak ‘n Shake is too expensive.” She sighs and I just shrug.
“Denny’s?”
“Nope… too boring.” She gives me a considering look. “Hey… you tired?”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
She claps her hands together and gives me a mischievous smile. I’m not sure whether to be worried or amused. “I have an idea.”
“This should be good.”
“Let’s go bowling?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
I shake my head. I’m thinking she must be pretty desperate for company if she’s asking me to join her, but I don’t say so. “Bowling is an old lady’s sport.”
“So? We’ve got that covered.” That impish smile of hers widens. “I’m a lady, and you’re old.”
She catches me off guard with that one. “I’m only a year older than you.”
“Exactly. C’mon Gramps.”
And then, next thing I know, I’m agreeing to go. Not because I want to, because I’ve never really had any desire to bowl. Just because it’s something to do. And maybe I’m not in such a rush to get home tonight, either.
I’m usually a closer. Most of the other employees at Common Grounds complain about the late hours, especially since the closers tend to have the most work to do, but I prefer it to earlier in the day. There are fewer customers, and you can take your time. There’s no pre-opening rush to try and get the store ready on time. Mostly, I’m the only one who feels this way, though Lizzie gets it a little, I think.
“I’m a night person,” she tells me, wiping off the milk that has dried on the espresso machine. “I don’t mind closing.”
I nod, since I am too.
“Besides, some of the most interesting people come in at night. Like that lady who came in last week and ordered six espressos. I make up little stories in my head sometimes about that kind of thing. Like maybe she’s addicted to caffeine and she sneaks out of her house at night to ease the cravings.”
“You’re crazy.”
Lizzie grins. “Maybe.” She looks around the empty shop, then back at me. “I’m gonna make a hot chocolate. Want any?”
“No.” I watch her as she moves away from the register. “I think you’re the one with addiction.”
She laughs. “I’m a chocoholic.” She tilts her head. “Do you think they have support groups for that?”
“It’s called counseling.”
“Eh, too boring. Besides, I like my addiction.”
“Denial.”
“Nope. Acceptance. Hot chocolate can solve any problem.”
I look out the window. “Not any problem.”
“Any problem.” She nods. “You’re too pessimistic.”
“I’m a realist.”
“That’s another word for pessimist.” I shrug, and she sighs. Then she tilts her head and gets that deep, concentrating look. Like she’s about to say something profound. Only, it usually means that she’s about to ask a question. Which she does. “What’s something that makes you happy?”
“Should something?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t know.”
“C’mon… not even fuzzy little bunny rabbits?”
“I’m not really a fuzzy bunny kind of guy.” And then she laughs, because it’s true. And I laugh, because I hadn’t meant it to be funny, but it’s good to make someone smile. I’m not really happy, but it’s a break from the monotony. I still like the blankness, but there’s something to be said about laughter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I’m wide awake, still,” Lizzie says, staring at the clock. We’re finishing up alone, since the other guy who had been helping us had to duck out early. Something about a party. “I don’t feel like just going home.”
“So don’t,” I say.
“But what could I do? Steak ‘n Shake is too expensive.” She sighs and I just shrug.
“Denny’s?”
“Nope… too boring.” She gives me a considering look. “Hey… you tired?”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
She claps her hands together and gives me a mischievous smile. I’m not sure whether to be worried or amused. “I have an idea.”
“This should be good.”
“Let’s go bowling?”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
I shake my head. I’m thinking she must be pretty desperate for company if she’s asking me to join her, but I don’t say so. “Bowling is an old lady’s sport.”
“So? We’ve got that covered.” That impish smile of hers widens. “I’m a lady, and you’re old.”
She catches me off guard with that one. “I’m only a year older than you.”
“Exactly. C’mon Gramps.”
And then, next thing I know, I’m agreeing to go. Not because I want to, because I’ve never really had any desire to bowl. Just because it’s something to do. And maybe I’m not in such a rush to get home tonight, either.
