About Time

by Danielle Torella

  I pull out my loaf pan, it’s an oldie, but it does its job. I set to mushing and mixing, once I have it ready to go into the oven I am starting to relax. The smell of the cinnamon is just soothing and the heat from the oven that would bother most on a hot night like tonight, I find comforting. Baking is the only thing that has kept me grounded. There are rules and you have to be consistent or it will fail, something I tend to do a lot while growing up, so this is something I can control. I set the timer on my phone and clean up my bowl, spoons and measuring cups. I retreat to the living room and I actually find something to watch on TV. One thing you can always count on is old Friends re-runs are on one channel or another. I get half way through the second episode and I can smell the bread baking and that means that it’s nearly done. Just as I am padding into the kitchen my timer goes off. Yes, I am that good.

  I pull it out and set it on top of a pot holder on the counter. I lean in close and just inhale. Oh my goodness that is going to be so good in the morning. I would wait for it to cool and enjoy a piece, but my eyes are finally feeling heavy so I turn everything off and go back to my room. I climb back into my bed and as I close my eyes I can smell the wonderful scent that I just created and I am lulled to sleep.

  I am woken up by my alarm going off at eight thirty so I can get to the library by ten to get set. I half open my eyes and remember my dream that I was woken from, the guy in the rain and his voice.

  Mrs. Brown had to leave early for a family obligation so she left me with the library on my own, which I have done countless times and besides we never get busy, in fact we haven’t been busy in a couple years since Fifty Shades was released. There was a long waiting list for that, but ever since it has been dead in here. Sure we have the regulars, but they are middle aged women who still have a love for library books and the smell that comes with them, I can fully relate to that.

  One of the regulars walks in the door, Ms. Datton, she has a thing for Victorian era romance novels. Nothing smutty but old school romantics with a touch of sex. She is about fifty five I would say and has shorter black hair with a streak of silvery white in the bangs. She is a little more bohemian and has a funky style about her, she likes long skirts, sandals and peasant tops. She’s never been married or had any children. She likes to date, but never settled down. She likes the companionship she once told me. She also makes her own jewelry out of stones and shells she finds on the beaches. This past Christmas she had made me a beautiful pendant out of this pink shell and I wear it when I want to get a little dressy.

  She stops at the counter when entering and asks me about what’s new and I show her the new books. She goes on to tell me about the men she has been meeting through this online dating site and suggests that I check it out to meet someone. “That’s very kind of you Ms. Datton, but I have a boyfriend.”

  “But a pretty little thing like you should leave your options open. You know I have a nephew that’s about your age…” She pulls out her phone and starts skimming through photos, “Here, this is Michael, he is twenty five and isn’t he a looker?” She holds the phone out to me and I take it. I agree he is attractive, black as night hair like his aunt, light brown eyes and a sexy smile, but I am already taken and I am not the kind of girl who looks while I am with someone.

  “He is very good looking Ms. Datton, but like I said I am already spoken for. Although I do have a roommate who might be interested … is he local?” I ask her thinking about Maddy. Who knows, maybe he could be the right kind of guy for her. To help change her ways.

  “He sure is! He goes to Eastern Carolina University, studying to be a biologist. Switched majors half way through, that’s why he is still in school.” She is beaming with pride for her nephew and it’s very cute.

  I have to ask, “This is going to be an odd question, but is he in a fraternity?”

  She tips her head to the side and smiles, “No he isn’t dear, why do you ask?”

  I sigh with relief, “Oh, because Maddy isn’t into the frat boys.”

  “Maddy? That’s a cute name! Can I give you his number to pass on to her?”

  I step back to the counter and hand her a pad and pen to take his number, after she jots it down she checks out two books about a sexy scandalous version of the prince and pauper. “I will be sure to give this to her, you know what can you send me that photo of Michael to show her?”

  “What’s your number?” She asks with a smirk.

  I have an hour and a half after I close up the library to get to the diner, so I stop in at the café next door and grab a sandwich, because I cannot do the greasy diner food and an unsweetened iced tea sounds great. Ordering unsweetened iced tea in the south is like ordering a Chicago deep dish in a New York City pizzeria, it’s going to get you some looks. Everyone here is all about sweet tea and I cannot stand the stuff. I take a stool at the window counter that looks out at the street. I decide to start a new book by the same author that wrecked me and I am glad I did. So I sit here for a while, munching on my lunch and every now and then I look up out the window. People in a hurry, couples holding hands and a mother pushing a double stroller with twin boys and all I can think is yikes! Then I see a pink balloon bob in front of the window. When I look out, I see a little girl with her mom and she is carrying the balloon. She giggles as her mom tickles her neck. She has on a light pink dress and a princess crown that reads the number four. It must be her birthday. My stomach clenches, I take a steadying breath and I shove the image from my mind.

  When I am done I wipe the crumbs off the counter into my hand and dump them in the trash with the empty cup and return the plate to the front counter, excusing myself by a couple of men in work wear placing their order. When I accidently bumped into one, because when I spoke up he stepped back, nearly falling right over, “What the fuck?” the guy snips.

  “Oh my God I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you fall, I am sorry, here,” I hand him a couple of napkins to wipe off his shirt. I thought for sure he would tell me it was fine and not worry about, but no…

  He snatches the napkins from me, rolls his eyes and seethes at me, “This shirt was expensive and thanks to you it’s now ruined. Why don’t you look where you are going?”

  I am taken back by his harshness, “I’m sorry, I can pay for the shirt or dry cleaning…”

  He puts a hand up, “Save it. I don’t think you could afford it anyways…” The man and his friend turns and walk away obviously still talking about the incident and shaking their heads. Well there goes my evening.

  “Don’t listen to those assholes, they’re like that to everyone,” A younger male tells me from behind the counter. “Especially to us.”

  “Well I am sorry about that, I don’t think there is any reason to snap at a total stranger. Things happen.” I tell him, but I think I am trying to convince myself. “Well thanks,” I toss a ten in the tip jar, “The sandwich was delicious.”

  “Hey! Thanks!” The guy calls after me as I am walking through the door.

  I rush into the dinner and run for the back and put on my apron and grab an order pad. I made it just in time and it looks like it’s going to be a busy evening. I walk by Tina and she grabs my arm, “What’s the deal with you dragging me into your lies? Maddy asked how I was doing and when I didn’t know what she was talking about she said that I had asked you to trade shifts. What’s the deal?” Tina has been here for a few years and she is my age. She is even taller than me and has chin length platinum blonde hair with china doll bangs and red lips. She usually keeps to herself and doesn’t bother with someone like me, that’s why I figured it would be okay to use her name to get out of talking to Maddy about Josh.

  I look to the floor, “Sorry about that, I just needed and excuse…”

  “Whatever, just don’t use my name again, I don’t need any rumors going around that I am doing someone a favor. Then everyone will be asking me for something,” She tells me looking into the reflection of a spoon as she checks her lipstick. Tina eyes me and
walks off.

  This is not my day.

  For the whole shift I just keep my eyes down in fear of pissing someone else off. But I manage to make a little eye contact while taking orders, but quickly look away and make my exit. My shift is over at ten o’clock, I hang up my apron and head for home. Again.

  Wanting or rather needing to make sure everything is okay with Josh and I, I text him:

  Margot: Are we okay?

  Josh: Yeah, we are fine. Why?

  Oh I don’t know maybe because you told me to leave after I accidently spilled a little beer, but I won’t say that.

  Margot: The way we ended things last night…

  Josh: I am sorry about that Margot, I was just exhausted and I am sorry I snapped.

  Well that’s a relief.

  Margot: Ok, so brunch tomorrow?

  Josh: Of course. I need to get going, I’ll see you then. Oh, and wear something suitable. Bye.

  Margot: Ok…bye.

  Something suitable? Does what I typically wear not count as suitable? I try and dress up a little whenever we go out, considering they are usually really nice places. Places I couldn’t afford to pick up the tab. He has never said or mentioned anything in the past, I suppose I can go through and see what I have, if I don’t have anything then maybe I can borrow something from Maddy.

  I am in my waitress wear until I get home which is my black shorts and a white V-neck t-shirt and gray Chuck Taylors, definitely not “brunch” suitable. Maddy is out on a date tonight so it’s just myself tonight and a good book. I grab my ponytail and bring it to my nose and I instantly scrunch it after the smell I get from it. Something about French fries and gravy doesn’t exactly do it for me in a hair product. I strip down and take a quick shower to get diner food smell off of me.

  I go over to my dresser once I have my pj’s on and I open up the little fox cookie jar I have and I pull out a handful of honey packets. Is it sad that I have a jar full of them? I can’t get enough and the fox is something I have always loved and to combine them both is perfection.

  I don’t have much in my room, growing up with nothing, I didn’t have anything to bring with me here to North Carolina, just a duffel bag of clothes. I have collected a few odds and ends over the years, but noting much. I got my fox cookie jar and a little bowl made out of blue sea glass that I picked up in an artisan shop down by the beach. I use it to keep my hair ties and clips. I would use it for jewelry, but I don’t have anything other than the necklace that Ms. Datton made me and that is hanging off the side of my mirror. I want to say I have a mirror framed with family photos, but I don’t have a single one, not meaning just photos, but one single family.

  I shake off this feeling that I have and climb under the blankets on my bed. My room is small, just large enough for my full size bed, dresser, nightstand, hamper and a small purple fabric colored chair that I use to set my bag on when I come in. My closet is only large enough for a couple of outfits, which reminds me that I need to go through and find something to wear for tomorrow. I grudgingly exit my bed and I make my way over to the white painted wooden door and twist the outdated knob and reach for the chain pull for the light. I have a few dresses and a couple of skirts, I am assuming that’s what he would wish for me to wear. I decide that I don’t have much that would be considered “nice”, so I will ask Maddy if I can borrow something. She should be home before I have to go.

  I tug the light and my bland closet goes dark. Closing the door I get back in my bed and tear open a honey packet with my teeth and read until I pass out.

  I wake up with my book to the side of me and six or seven empty honey packets, which I sucked dry. I look at the clock and it is only two in the morning. I pick up the packets and get up to throw them away. In the kitchen I hear some noise outside. I peek out the window and find a group of friends goofing off, trying to climb the light pole and a couple others are playing leapfrog. I can’t help but giggle at the most likely drunken sight. I wonder what it’s like to travel in a pack of friends like that, especially on a Saturday night, just having fun and letting loose.

  I bounced from school to school and never maintained any friends. Eventually when I started a new one I didn’t even bother to try. In grade school I tried and when I painfully was pulled out and lost contact, it just set my gut on fire and it hurt deeply. The friends I did have were more like my family, so when I was taken from them my world would crumble with each relocation. So I just stopped.

  I look to see if Maddy’s keys are hanging where she puts them when she comes in and I don’t see them, she must still be out. I pull my bottom lip into my mouth and I flick my tongue on the plump tissue thinking. I rush to my room, throw on a pair of denim cut off shorts and my small brown leather purse and throw my wallet in it. Leaving the peach colored tank top on, I slip into my Chucks and exit the apartment, which all of a sudden felt like was suffocating me.

  I go down the two flights of stairs and open the heavy wooden door with large glass window, which locks behind me as I stop just outside the door. Where am I going? I ask myself. Where do most twenty four year olds go at this hour on a Saturday night? The bar. I know there is one just down the block where a lot of the college kids hang out, so I skip down the concrete steps and make a fast left down the sidewalk. It only takes me a few minutes of walking before I start to hear raised and entertained voices as I approach the place and that makes me smile. I slow my stride as I gain proximity, not wanting to look too eager … even though I am.

  I take in a deep breath and wedge my way through the door. There are people everywhere and I can hear live music playing on one end of the place. It is decorated with wood paneling, beer on tap and bottles and a strong nautical theme. Blue and white accents, boats, paddles and fishing nets, strewn about. I am nudged by a girl and she quickly apologizes, and I tell her it’s alright. I walk to the bar and wait to find an opening, when I finally get to the long wooden glass filled counter a man asks me what I want and I have no clue. I feel my cheeks go red with embarrassment. “New?” He asks me.

  “Lived here for years, but never been to a bar around here yet.” I explain.

  He lifts his chin, “Can I see I.D.?” I am guessing I sound underage considering I haven’t been around the bar scene. I show him my license and he smiles and makes a suggestion. “We specialize in draft beer, I’ll start you out on the light side.”

  I give him a half smile and tell him thank you. He is right back with a foam filled chilled glass and tells me, “This first one is on me, I popped your draft cherry,” He winks. Did I just get hit on or flirted with? I wouldn’t know what that is like.

  I met Josh at the beach when he was playing sand volleyball with the guys he was sharing a house with back then. He went to spike the ball, over stepped and landed at my feet. I jumped so high you would have thought that I was the ball. He didn’t get right up he stayed right there at my feet, then moved to his knees and playfully begged for my forgiveness and I of course giggled and Maddy was trying to get his attention the whole afternoon, but he wasn’t interested. When he asked me for my number, she wasn’t too thrilled and it took her a couple of weeks to stop moping and let it go. Finally she was on board with Josh and me. He took me to a little boardwalk for our first date and played this ping pong fish bowl game to win me a little goldfish. I had the little guy for nearly a week when it met the porcelain thrown. I was a little bummed and Josh was affectionate and he was holding me on his sofa and he kissed me for the first time. He took it very slow with me after I explained to him about my first physical relationship. Consensual one anyways…

  I was fourteen and his name was Robert Dixon, we had been “dating” for a couple of weeks. He was older, seventeen and lived with a roommate. One day we were hanging out on his couch and he kissed me like he had before, soft and slow and then the kissing got heavier and when his roommate came home he had me follow him to his room so we could have some privacy. He told me to sit on his bed and take my shoes off. He closed and lo
cked his door. I assumed that we would just make out, but one thing led to another and his hand was up under my shirt, when I squirmed to signal him to slow down he didn’t. I closed my eyes tightly shut and just went with it. He started to tell me that he liked to be in control and told me that I was his and that he could do what he wanted when he wanted. I was so thrown I thought he was kidding, but he wasn’t. He didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to. I was curious and he took it slow at first. He reached down and cupped my sex and I thought that that feeling was supposed to feel amazing, at least that’s what I had seen in the movies. I tensed up and when he took off his shorts and I saw his erect penis I didn’t even want to look at it at first. I was nervous, I had never been with a guy before. When he saw me staring at his dick he smirked and told me that I was lucky to have him, I believed him. He told me he wouldn’t hurt me, I believed him but when he told me that he would take it slow I didn’t believe him one bit. I told him I wasn’t ready and that I needed more time, he said fine, but he wanted me to suck his dick. I knew I had to do it to get it out of the way and I think deep down he would dump me if I didn’t. So I did. I didn’t like the way he held my head and moved it to control the speed and how far I took him in my throat. I just closed my eyes and did it until he was done. I didn’t like the way his cum tasted. It was salty like the sea, but I would drink a gallon of salt water any day and suffer the discomfort rather than do this again. When he pulled up his shorts right after he kissed me on the forehead and told me I was a good girl and that he was falling for me. I believed him. I grew up with effed up love so I didn’t see this any different. After I talked to him and explained how I grew up and he felt like shit and told me he never would have made me do that if he had known. Again, I believed him. We took it a little slower from that point on and when I felt that I was ready to make love for the first time he was excited and eager. It was painful and over soon. He then told me he loved me and I said it back, even though it didn’t feel right. It was a fuck, not love.