by Adriana Peck
Still, it’s gotta be worth at least half a shot, right?
I sigh again, weighing my options one more time as I stare in my rearview mirror at the café behind me.
And besides, Nancy can’t find out I applied for a job somewhere, right? It’s got to be illegal or something for an employer to disclose that. And we do need the money. Despite her polite coverings, I know Nancy’s already worried about her next month’s rent. I don’t think Nancy would fault me for trying to be a more responsible adult, trying to cover her bills like a good fake fiancée should.
The cardboard box factory’s going to be a last resort either way. Nora’ll say no to me, I can almost guarantee it anyways, so I can’t risk anything by walking in and at least trying.
Okay, then.
I get out of my truck, collecting myself as I walk through the empty lot to cross the street.
◆◆◆
When I push through the front door and the tiny bell jingles overhead, I can see all eyes inside suddenly pointing right on me. Nora’s standing behind the counter, the only one dealing with the lunch rush at hand. I can see the restaurant’s half-full of customers already, the booths and tables nearly packed to the brim, and nearly every conversation stops when I walk in.
Nora looks up from the cash register, eyeing me for a moment before I see white-hot fury streaking across her face.
“Nancy’s not here,” she says curtly.
All the customers are looking at me. Folks all over town, families from my old church. I can recognize half the faces in here; I'm sure more people know me than I know them at this point. Nancy told me my grocery store incident went viral all over town, even Darry talked to her about it.
This was a fucking mistake.
“I know,” I reply. I’m still standing in the doorway, I don’t dare approach the counter. Nora would kill me dead if I tried.
“Then why are you here?” the owner barks at me.
I’m wondering that same thing myself, but I know that nothing ventured is nothing gained. I point my thumb over my shoulder at the plate-glass window next to the door.
“Saw the help wanted sign,” I say innocuously.
Nora shakes her head, an angry smile stretched across her face.
“Absolutely not,” she says. She lifts a finger, pointing at the door behind me as her stare cuts into me like daggers. “Leave now, please.”
I nod, taking the hint that I’m not wanted here.
“Thank you for your time,” I say to Nora, backing out of the café. I bow instinctively, making deliberate eye contact with every customer I can. If they’re going to try and start a rumor about me coming here, I’ll at least have an idea as to who started it.
I leave the café, crossing the street to head back to my truck.
Yeah, that was a mistake. And I really hope to God Nancy doesn’t think I tried stealing her old job.
Guess it’s the box factory for me after all.
As I get in my truck, ready to head across town to ask Nora’s husband for a job next, I can’t help but feel like I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.
◆◆◆
The factory floor is packed today, with hundreds of men moving in and out of place on a massive assembly line. I watch from one end to the other as a flat white sheet comes out as cardboard where it’s then stained, folded, and marked for completion. Looks like one of those boxes you’d use to store printer paper in, I think.
The foreman looks me up and down while we talk; my interviewer’s a taller man, portly, coveralls covering a stained-black tee-shirt and a construction helmet on his head. He holds a clipboard, ticking off a list of boxes as he asks me questions. It’s not an interview with Nigel Knoxley himself, and I’m sorta glad that’s the case. I'd be embarrassed to think about the two of them conferring over my employment status with each other afterwards.
“Work history?” the foreman in the hard hat asks me.
“United States Marines Corps,” I tell him. “Just finished two tours of duty in Afghanistan.”
I pull out my wallet, show him my Military ID card to prove I’m not lying.
“Thank you for your service,” the foreman says to me, scribbling out a note on his clipboard. “Any injuries?”
“None.”
He ticks off a box, his eyes never leaving the paper in front of him.
“Can you lift sixty pounds over your head?”
“Of course.”
Another box ticked.
“Are you eligible to work in the United States of America as a legal citizen?”
“Absolutely.”
Two boxes ticked.
“When can you start?” he asks me the final question, looking up from his clipboard.
“Whenever you need me to.”
The foreman nods, writing out his final notes on his clipboard. “Be here tomorrow morning. Five o’clock sharp, can’t imagine that’s too difficult for you military types. Wear comfortable clothing. Lunch is at noon, breaks at ten and two. You leave at four.”
“What’s the pay?” I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but ask.
“Twelve fifteen an hour.”
I shrug. “Works for me.” I extend a hand, and the foreman shakes it.
“We’ll see you here tomorrow, then,” he says.
And with that, I’ve got a job. I bet Nancy’ll be proud of me.
As I leave the factory, oddly looking forward to my first day of work tomorrow, I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. My brother talked smack on me this morning, and I showed him up. I had a job secured by sundown. Physical labor or no, a job’s a job. Money’s money. I can cover Nancy’s bills, take care of her while she works things out on her own time. And just when we’re getting things started between us, too.
I start my truck up, heading back to town with an optimistic grin on my face. I’ve got half a mind to surprise Nancy, and I’m sure she’ll be just as excited to see me as I am her.
Twenty-Two
Nancy
The rest of my day goes by in a boring blur, and without my job at Nora’s keeping me on a constant schedule, I find it difficult to plan my day out accordingly. I finish up at the DMV, my license plates renewed without any hassle. After that, I head to the grocery store, buy my food for the upcoming week. When I finally make it back to my apartment, the bags all unloaded and the food all stored away, I check the clock. It’s not even six. The sun’s just about to set over the tree-line outside, and I step out onto my wooden balcony to admire the view.
I keep thinking about that night with Jake. Coming out here, him teasing me.
And the night we came back here. The time we spent together in bed.
Oh my God, I really can’t believe just how perfect it was. The way Jake took control, the way he turned me on—
Good Lord, stop it, Nancy. I’ve got to pace myself. I’m going to have a heart attack just thinking about him, my heart’s been racing ever since I started thinking about him again.
As I admire the view of the sunset, I feel a vibration in my pocket. I pull out my phone, surprised to see who’s calling me at this hour.
It’s Nora.
I pick up immediately. “Hello?”
“Nancy, got a minute?”
“Sure. What do you need?” for a moment I forget she isn’t my boss anymore. But I know she wouldn’t be calling me just to make chit-chat.
“I’ve got your last check for you,” she says. “You’re still at the address you gave me when you took the job, right?”
“Uh-huh. Same apartment.”
“Okay. I’ll mail it to you, then.”
“Thanks, Nora.” I pause for a moment, waiting for her to say good-bye. But she pauses, too, and I figure there must be something else on her mind. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, one more thing.” I hear a bit of nervousness in her voice, her tone’s laced with caution.
“What is it?”
Nora sighs. “Think you should heart it fro
m me first. Jake came by today.”
“Weird. He knew you fired me. He say why?”
“He was asking for your old job. Put the sign up in the window this morning.”
For a moment I don’t believe her. I consider hanging up on Nora, but I brace myself for just a minute.
“You’re joking.”
“Am not. You can ask anybody who came in for lunch today,” Nora says. “Hell, I could give you a list of names if you really wanted. Everyone saw him come in and ask for your old job, believe me.”
I don’t believe this.
I can’t believe this.
“Nora, I’m sorry. I just don’t think that’s what happened.”
“Suit yourself, then. Just thought I’d try warning you before someone else spilled the beans.”
And with that, Nora hangs up without another word.
I’m dumbfounded, surprised beyond belief. Part of me doubts that Jake would’ve done something as stupid as that, applying for my old job. But another part of me feels a sinking feeling in my gut, knowing full well that Nora wouldn’t call me up just to lie about my ‘fiancée.’
Something happened at Nora’s Café today, and I need Jake to tell me what exactly went down.
I open my contacts folder, scroll down to Jake’s number. I dial it, holding the phone up to my ear as I brace myself again.
Jake picks up on the first ring.
“Nancy? How’s it going?” he’s cheerful, I can hear him smiling from here. It takes a lot for me not to smile, too, and I immediately start asking the questions I’m afraid to dance around.
“I just got a call from Nora,” I tell him. “She said you stopped by the café today.”
“Yeah. I’d been looking around town for some sort of employment. They had a help wanted sign up in the café window, so I went in and asked about the job. Turns out it was yours, and Nora told me to leave. So I did.”
I suck in my breath, angrier than I’d ever been before.
“You seriously did not just say that,” I say angrily.
“What?”
“You went to my old workplace, the day after I got fired? And you asked for my old job? Jake, how could you do that to me?”
“Nancy, I didn’t know I was applying for your old position when I first went in—”
I’m practically screaming into my phone at this point, I’m so angry. “Did you see that many people working there, Jake? There’s like, two people on staff. A waitress and a line cook. Were you not thinking about that when you went in and asked about the job opening?”
Jake pauses for a while, and I know he’s thinking about what to say to me. He better choose his words carefully, because he’s dancing on my last nerve right now.
“I guess I wasn’t, Nancy,” he says quietly.
I back down momentarily, giving Jake an out to this conversation.“Why couldn’t you have told me about this before Nora did?”
“Because I was busy looking for another job. And I got one, over at the factory. Just now, in fact.”
I scoff, I can’t help it. I’m still furious, in all honesty. And I don’t know if Jake’s going to be able to make things right between us.
“Jake, you really hurt me. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Well, for one, I got a job at Nigel's box factory,” he says. “I can cover your rent now with my paycheck; you won't have to worry about bills any more. So if anything, I think you should be happy for me. That’s what I have to say for myself.”
I feel like throwing my phone against the wall.
“That’s not what I meant,” I hiss, frustrated beyond belief.
“Well, who’s the one that’s got a job between the two of us, Nancy?” Jake asks me, and I can hear him sneering through the phone. I don’t like where this conversation is heading, and I certainly don’t like the tone he’s just put on. It’s unbecoming, it’s rude. And I think it’s entirely uncalled for.
“Jake, don’t be mean. You know I left the café for you.”
“Well, I didn’t ask you to do that for me, did I? And now we’re doing this little plot together, and one of us has to have a steady income. So I decided to take that responsibility. You should be thanking me, Nancy.”
Now I definitely feel like hurling my phone against the wall.
And I know I’m sick of Jake. I’m tired of him. I want out, I want this nightmare of a phone call to be over.
“Jake, I think we’re in over our heads with this scam,” I tell him. “It’s making me sick to my stomach, lying to my friends here in town. And I’m sure they’re all suspicious of us anyways. And now we’re fighting. It just doesn’t seem worth it anymore.”
“They aren’t suspicious of us,” Jake says. But that’s all he has to say on the matter.
“But that’s not even what I’m mostly worried about, Jake. I don’t care about the gossip. I don’t care about the rumor mill. I care about you. I care about a future away from this town. But now I can see this is all too much for me; I should’ve listened to everyone who tried to warn me about this happening.”
“Nancy, don’t start—”
“Don’t start what? Don’t start complaining? Don’t start asking questions? Don’t start thinking that maybe things could have worked out a little differently?”
“I don’t even know what you want me to say, Nancy. I’ve tried explaining myself. I don’t know what you want from me anymore.”
“Then don’t say anything,” I reply curtly. “You’ve said enough already.”
There’s a long pause that hangs in the air, and I can feel the seconds drag by painfully. This conversation is a black hole of emotion, I can’t escape it no matter how hard I try. And I need out, I need to think about what I’ve done to the people living in this town. About the lies.
“Jake, I think we should take a break. This has all been too much for me. I’m sorry.”
“Well, I’m sorry, too.”
Another pause. I feel my heart breaking again, and I don’t know what else I can say to make things work.
“I guess I’ll talk to you later, then,” I say. But in all honesty, I don’t know when I’ll be able to talk to him again. This has all been so hurtful, so upsetting. I don’t think I’m going to be eager to get back on this rollercoaster again anytime soon.
Jake’s a good guy, I still believe that. Truly. But today’s thrown me for a massive loop that I can no longer ignore, and I need to step away before I lose sight of who I am.
Jake sighs. “Yeah. See you around, I guess.”
And then he hangs up.
I stare out into the tree-line as the sun sets over the horizon. I can feel my whole world crashing down around me now: no Jake, no job, no friends, no family. I’m all alone out here, with nobody to watch my back.
I guess it’s back to the old normal.
Back to my shitty reality.
I head back inside, defeated, my head hung low. I walk straight to my bedroom, passing the kitchenette without another thought. I don’t see any point in eating dinner tonight; I don’t have an appetite to speak of, and I’m distraught after that heartbreaking ending to the conversation with Jake.
I might have just ended things between us. For good.
And, for the life of me, I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
I trudge into my room, crashing on my bed with a lifeless thud. I feel like my entire body weighs a thousand pounds, I feel like I’ve just re-started my life without any warning, and I still have to deal with the bullshit of living here.
And I still have to face tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that.
Without Jake.
As I drift off, I feel a lifeless slumber washing over me.
All I can do is pray I don’t dream about Jake. Not tonight.
It’d hurt me too much.
◆◆◆
I wake up in a daze the next morning, piecing together the events from last night. The details are fuzzy at first, but they c
ome back to me with time. Jake and I got into a fight last night. Things got hairy. Things were said, and I needed to step away from things. If that makes me the bad guy, then so be it.
But I know I’m not wrong for wanting space. He applied for the job I’d just been fired from. And I got fired because of him in the first place. Jake’s acting like a real jerk, a real pig as of late. And I know I’m not wrong for wanting out of this weird little scheme we’ve hatched. Lying to the entire town is one thing. But I couldn’t stand to look at my friends yesterday, lying to Paul and Barry like that.
I feel like a monster.
And I know the registry’s just hit the paper this morning.
I drag myself out of bed, preparing for the inevitable. I know there are going to be missed phone calls, text messages, hell, probably a congratulations card or two in the mailbox. All for a phony relationship between Jake and I, a facade we couldn’t keep up for more than a week together.
Wow. We’re a pair or schemers, alright.
I feel absolutely disgusted with myself, and I throw on a fresh pair of sweatpants before stepping outside to check my mail. My mailbox is just outside, attached to the wall next to my apartment door, and I crack my door open and peer outside.
When I see the mailbox stuffed to the brim with white envelopes I nearly throw up as I gasp in horror.
This can’t be real.
This can’t be happening.
I slowly walk over, grab a handful of letters. All addressed to Jake and I. I grab another handful, trudging slowly back inside. And there’s still a pile leftover in my mailbox. I dump the first two piles on my counter, turn around and grab the rest from my mailbox as I close my apartment door behind me.
The pile on my countertop is absolutely massive. It’s six inches tall, easily. I count thirty, maybe fifty letters in total.
And they’re all addressed to Jake and I.
This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. There’s no way we got this many letters from people in town after our registry hit the paper just this morning.
But then I remember how many people there are in town. How fast word can travel. And with a population sitting on their butts, waiting for the next rumor mill to spring up, I’m sure they’d have nothing better to do than to send some newly-engaged couples letters.