Done Burger

by Camille Oster

  Finally, I did put it aside and made myself a sandwich for lunch. The day was going by too fast. Soon it was two o'clock and I'd achieved nothing other than be overwhelmed by this course catalog. I had to be at work in another two hours.

  Riley returned to my mind. I had no idea how or what would happen now. Would things turn even more awkward? Would he keep picking on me? What this some fuck-up version of pulling my pigtails—which my aunt vehemently disagreed with, because any boy was worth a damned was honest about his feelings, according to her. I didn't know what world she lived in, but feelings were not something any guy discussed, except maybe Julian. Maybe my aunt had a point.

  The heat held as the sun went down. I actually wouldn't say no to a rainy day at this point, but it would likely be a long time coming. In the fall, it would rain and the leaves would turn, and I would be at college during the days, instead of sitting on my couch watching TV.

  *

  At work everything seemed normal, but that could be a ruse around here, I'd learnt. Riley's black monstrosity had been parked in one of the lots out the back.

  The manic busy dinner rush came and passed, and now there was a moment to chill. I could hear Riley talking in the back, and couldn't stop myself from listening for what he said, even if I couldn't make it out.

  "Hey," Ella said, catching me by surprise.

  "Hi," I said back.

  "Things seemed pretty slow tonight." She leaned on the customer side of the counter, looking thoroughly bored.

  "I hope so," I smiled. "Not sure I can handle any more drama at this point."

  Ella's eyes traveled from me back to Julian's office. I didn't ask how things were going. It was a bit of a no go area for me and she'd picked up on that.

  "New nails, I see." Her nails were purple with black zebra stripes on them.

  "Yeah, you like?"

  "They're gorgeous."

  "You really should come have yours done. Candy-apple red would suit you."

  "Vampy." I wasn't sure I agreed, but Ella viewed nails on a completely different scale from me. I would go with a pale pink or something. Riley laughed again somewhere behind me and I felt myself cringe. Everything he did annoyed me at the moment. I wanted to talk to Ella about it, but I couldn't. And then Mia was here, listening to everything we said.

  "I just got this light green polish. You wouldn't think it works, but it does," Mia said. I glared at her for a moment, for interrupting our conversation, then felt grossly ungenerous.

  "That does sound cool," I said, and more appealing than candy-apple red. If she was making an effort, I should too. "It does sound nice to get my nails done. I just struggle to get off the couch during the day, if I’m honest. I didn't leave the house today."

  "I went to the mall… " Mia said, continuing to talk while my attention flittered toward the back again. Wyatt was talking about some upcoming party. I felt a flash of jealousy that I wasn't going for a moment before I checked myself. And why exactly would I want to go to a party where Wyatt and Riley would be—probably the kind of party where Riley ended up half naked, wearing a fur coat and drunk out of his skull. Maybe because if he was drunk he would be a little more honest about what goes on in his head, a small, betraying voice said in the back of my head. I promptly turned my attention back to Mia discussing the tops she'd looked at today.

  If I was drunk and Riley was drunk, would we end up in some dark corner again, sharing body parts? The thought crept through my mind, as unwelcome as it could get. The worst was that my stomach lurched like I went over a sharp dip in the road. Did this mean I wanted to end up with Riley between my thighs again? The thought almost made me violently cringe, but the image wouldn't exactly clear away either. "Damn it," I said.

  "What?" Mia said, looking shocked.

  "Sorry, just remembered my dinner's still on the counter at home." I actually had it in my bag, but needed some excuse for my rude outburst. Now I had to go buy a dinner from the supermarket to cover up my little lie, which would take most of my dinner break.

  Mia went on and Ella was listening intently, which meant I could excuse myself, saying I needed to go buy some dinner. Then again, a break away from here, and a moment of fresh air wouldn't hurt. Those good intentions turned into a smoke break, as they inevitably did. I would be a so much better person if I didn't smoke. I would be getting fresh air and a nice break, instead of working on my future lung cancer.

  Riley walked out and I groaned. Had he come out here because he knew I was here? I questioned everything now and I hated it. Before I'd just assumed it was my bad luck, but now I didn't know. "I thought I smelled burning tobacco," he said, leaning back on the wooden fence. Our relationship had revolved around these damn cigarettes—him pestering me for them.

  "Here," I said, throwing the pack at him. "I'm quitting anyway."

  "No, you're not," he said with a smile. "You're not a quitter."

  "Nice," I said sarcastically. I felt motivated to quit now, just to spite him. Maybe that was the thing I needed, pure spite—it drove me like nothing else, especially when it came to him. "True on some level. I'm less of a quitter than you are."

  He took the challenge with an expression on his face. "Quitter am I? What exactly have I quit?"

  "You tell me. What are you doing with your life, Riley? What are your plans for the fall?"

  He twisted his head sideways, considering me. I knew he had no plans. He wasn't going to college and neither was Wyatt. With Wyatt I could understand; he would struggle to sit through classes with his ADHD, but Riley had no excuse really. Why wasn't he going to college? Pure laziness? Spite at his own potential? I wouldn't put it past him. "Why are you so concerned for my future?"

  "Are you going to party the next year away?"

  "Probably."

  "And then what?"

  He shrugged.

  "Blow off everyone around you and then, I know, develop a substance problem when the world doesn't work out to worship you like you deserve?"

  "Who woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

  And whose bed did you wake up in this morning? I wanted to ask, but didn't, because it would sound jealous and I was so not. Yes, Riley was a bit of a slut, and I did not care. It was none of my business, but equally, I wouldn't put up with his shit either. "I just want to know. What are you planning to do with your future? Is this it for you, you just check out—work somewhere like this for the rest of your life, or do you image yourself some kind of dot com wiz who doesn't need to go to college? Are you too smart for college?"

  "Maybe I like to think I am," he said, his head leaning back and he stared down his nose at me.

  I snorted. Riley was heading toward complete loserdom. I might be struggling with decisions, but he wasn't even trying.

  "Unlike you, I don't think I'm doing myself any favors by going to college."

  I stared at him like he had no clue what he was taking about. "Isn’t that what all pay-check jockeys tell themselves? I'm actually trying to make something of myself. What are you going to be other than some loser working minimum wage for the rest of your life?"

  "You didn't seem all that bothered when Julian was checking you out—before changing his mind."

  I cringed mentally, but had to concede that he had me. Julian's future potential hadn't bothered me. So what that his plan, to walk in Julian's footsteps? He really didn't have what it took, being altogether too acerbic to be Julian.

  Riley leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees so they took his weight. "You can look down on me all you want, princess. If you think college is going to do you any good, go ahead and think yourself superior. All you're heading toward is being just another debt-slave, just like your parents, owing money on your credit cards, on your car, on your vacation, on your fabulous new treadmill which takes over half of your lounge in the house that is really owned by the bank. You'll have to work sixty hours a week to make the dough for all that, unable to do anything other than work, stuck in some shit job
where you're treated like dirt, because you can't leave."

  "So you think you'll be better off?"

  "I'm not going to run myself into the ground to be the bank's bitch. I'm not going to sign up to four years of college so I can come out with one hundred grand in debt, to then buy a nice house in the nice part of town for money I'll never be able to pay back."

  "But as I graduate, I will earn money and you won't."

  "But you'll owe more than you'll ever own, probably most of it going to service your borrowed lifestyle. Can't get sick, can't take a vacation in case your boss sees you as superfluous, can't take a lesser paying job if it's all too much. You're stuck servicing your mortgage, credit cards and your car loans for the next fifty years. Hell, you’ll probably be working on those loans until the day you die."

  My thoughts turned to my mother and how stressed she was at work. It was killing her, but she couldn't quit. We needed to live.

  "Nothing's for free," I said. "And if you're skilled enough, you earn more than you need."

  "You think you'll be fine, do you? The whole system is rigged so you end up paying every dollar you’ll ever earn. No, they're going to screw you. Doesn't matter what you do, they'll screw you. Don’t you get that’s what it’s all about. The whole fucking system. They’ve set it up that way and you’re happily putting up with it."

  "You're some conspiracy nut? I would have thought that was Wyatt's domain."

  Riley looked impatient and disappointed. "They took our house, Pepper. My mom did nothing wrong and they turned around and screwed her for no reason. She did everything she was supposed to. You think that means anything? You think you'll be fine, you do everything right, but they'll change the rules so they can take everything away. You're just a cog making money for other people. They'll tell you all sorts of shit, but you're stuck on that treadmill and you can't get off. Sure, you can go to college and get a really good job, make more money if you agree to do the screwing of other people—be the banker that forecloses, or the accountant that recommends job cuts. You'll be okay if you agree to screw others. Good luck with that. I hope you're happy. I'm not going to play. Oh yeah, and fuck you."

  "So you're just going to check out?"

  "Yep. I'm going to do exactly what I want. I might not ever have a McMansion in the suburbs and a big SUV in the triple garage right next to the pool, but you know what, I don't give a fuck." He was getting heated now. I'm not exactly sure how we got here, but we were here. "I'm going to learn what I want. Yeah, I might start my own company doing fuck knows what. Hell, I might even become a plumber wallowing in shit all day, but I'm not going to owe my life to a fucking bank. I'll probably never own a house. Then again, I'm not willing to pay with my entire life. Fuck them. It's exactly what they're expecting you to do."

  I gave him a questioning look like this was all completely ridiculous. I'm not going to college because I don't want to own a house? That was not how the world worked, well, maybe it was if you chose to see it in some uber-lefty way, or was it right—I didn't know.

  "Whatever," I said and flicked my cigarette into the can. "Good luck with your social protest. I hope it works out for you." With force, I opened the backdoor and walked inside, feeling disconcerted and uncomfortable with the whole discussion, especially the 'earn more money if you agree to screw others' thing. As much as I hated it, I'd signed up to do law for the money, and yes, that would include fighting someone's side to the detriment of another, even to my own client. But then I could practice good law, doing environmental law to get polluters, or protect human rights. Sadly, Riley's accusation rang true, because that paid shit. If I was going to earn well, I needed to be in some maverick role that made money off others.

  Fuck him and his twisted ideas. While he normally picked on me, this time he'd ripped into me fundamentally. It was my own fault for talking to him, intent on pointing out some of his own flaws and it had majorly backfired on me. He, with his 'fuck everything' attitude, was a better option than doing what you were supposed to, going to college, getting the best job you could? Unfortunately, there was something in what he said that I couldn't entirely dismiss. My mom was the proof—she was killing herself to keep us floating, and we were barely floating because she owed so much. Was I signing up for that? Was her push into law supposed to get me that bit more comfortable?

  God, I hated Riley.

  * * *

  Chapter 33:

  * * *

  My little discussion with Riley had left me feeling ill at ease. I guess I got what he was saying. It was a really negative view of the world. Why couldn't I go back to being a kid when everything was fine and the world wasn't a totally fucked up place? It hadn't really struck me that I was about to take on a hundred grand in debt over the next four years. It seemed an incomprehensible amount of money, but then everyone was. This was normal, and I guess that was his point.

  Not that I thought Riley's solution was the answer. A vow to never get in debt was extreme. It was not how the world worked, but he was right in a way—the debt then controlled your lives. And seriously, how boring was I thinking about debt management. My high school guidance counselor would be applauding.

  I wished Cherry was here so I could blow off work and get drunk. That was what teenagers did, act irresponsibly—not sit around having meaningful discussions about debt.

  I sighed and shifted my car into reverse and backed out of my driveway. I wish I felt I could just put all this tension aside and forget it, but it sat in my mind flashing a warning to say this shit was important. I should study law and make lots of money, have a nice house and a shiny car, and screw people over in the process. If they were stupid enough to get into trouble, they got what they deserved. Riley’s contempt surfaced in my mind.

  But that was what he did, ruthlessly zeroed in on what he felt was hypocrisy and shoved it in your face. Oh, yes, you were completely mercenary if you took that route, no excuses. Could I even study law now that I had Riley's accusation ringing in my ears? What excuses could I live with?

  Creating a better future for oneself was what this was all about. It was what going to college was all about. That was how things were done. Riley simply highlighted the trade-off, your freedom and conscience. Did we have the right to expect either anymore?

  A guy swerved into my lane and I gave him the filthiest look I could manage. Asshole. I'd screw him over for money, I thought viciously. Road rage was one of my issues.

  Pulling into the Coast Burger parking lot, I parked and opened the door. Another sweltering day. I stayed put, just sitting with my leg out. Why did it always feel like I was walking on egg shells, expecting a mine exploding any minute?

  That's because you're a sellout, that disparaging voice in my head said, the constant companion I tried to quell every moment of the day. Oh yay, teenage angst bullshit. I still wasn't getting out of the car. Seriously, if Cherry was here I would say screw this and leave.

  "Hey, Pepper," Wyatt said after pulling into the space off my passenger side.

  "Wyatt."

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah, I'm good," I said, getting out and locking my car. Nothing like keeping up appearances to make you do what you should. "How're things?"

  "Days like this, I wish I had a pool."

  "Don't we all," I said bitterly. Lawyers have pools. They can afford them.

  Time to forget about this crap and work—smile at the horrible people who came here and pretend I was so grateful I had this job. I followed Wyatt inside. It was mercifully cool at the very back. Riley was already there, ignoring me and greeting Wyatt. I guessed he was shitty with me. Fine, whatever.

  The dinner rush was madness. No one felt like cooking tonight, apparently. Finally, it died down and I felt like I needed some air. Grabbing a water bottle, I walked out of the restaurant's front doors and sat on the concrete bench. Cars were zooming past just beyond the bushes, their exhaust encroaching on what would otherwise be quite a nice space.

  "Hey," Ella sa
id, walking out and sitting down on the other end of the bench. She leaned her elbows back on the table behind us. "It's hot inside, isn't it? I'm not sure the air conditioning is working right."

  "It's probably just struggling." It wasn't just the heat, it was humid tonight too.

  I drew in a deep breath and exhaled.

  "You alright?" Ella asked. "You seem a bit down."

  "Just had this conversation with Riley that kind of killed my peace."

  Ella sighed and looked away. "Don't let him get to you."

  "It's kind of hard not to. He's so… in your face."

  Ella turned toward me, putting her knee up on the bench. "You need to decide what you're going to do with him."

  "What do you mean?" I said, with full on confusion.

  "Come on."

  "Come on what?"

  "Riley isn't in my face."

  I had no idea what she was getting at. Yes, Riley didn't object to you and your mere presence—good for you.

  "He's in yours—from the moment you turned up."

  "Because he's an asshole."

  "Because he's into you."

  "Pft," I said, blowing air through my lips. "He's really, really not."

  "He isn't like this with anyone else. It's only you."

  I wasn't convinced.

  "And yes, you went on a bender and headed for him like a guided missile."

  Thanks, I wanted to say, feeling the unease of embarrassment crawl up my skin.

  "But you're forgetting that he went for you in exactly the same way."

  "And then decided to screw some random girl in the dry store."

  "And you screwed Julian in the dry store."

  My pink cheeks were now raging red. Obviously Julian hadn’t told her exactly what had gone on and she’d assumed. Should I tell her it wasn’t exactly as intense as she assumed. Must we talk about this? I really didn’t want to and she didn’t seem all that bothered anyway.