. . . . . . Tiffany Lawrence . . . . . . . . .
My first few weeks at the grocery store were amazing. It was more like a supermarket, and I worked alongside the other salesgirls and boys. I'd been on the evening shifts with one of the nicest guys I worked with, James.
James was a young Canadian guy who looked hotter than a guy you'd picture selling at some supermarket. That aside, he was nice, and did I forget to mention drop-down gorgeous?
Everything else seemed perfect about the place, plus our manager was down to earth too. He managed to squeeze me in and help maintain my working hours so they didn't clash with my time at the restaurant.
I was able to talk to my manager, Jeremy, too about the money I needed to pay for Amila's tuition fee, and he was more than glad to give me a month's worth of salary before I even started working. I couldn't show my appreciation enough.
At 8:30 p.m., I was getting ready to leave.
"Turn the sign over!" Jeffrey, one of my fellow workers, yelled from his side of the room.
"Got it!" I yelled back, seeing I was the one closest to the door, and walked over to turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED. I walked back towards my counter and started to pack my bag when James appeared from the corner. He had a smile on his slim pink lips. Like, when was he ever not smiling?
I smiled back awkwardly, shoving my phone into my jeans pocket, and asked, "What?"
"Nothing," he replied. "I just think you look really lovely tonight."
I felt the heat rush to my cheeks instantly, even though what he said was a regular thing any random guy would say to a lady, and the fact that he was grinning while saying that probably meant he was joking. But I blushed anyway.
"Thanks," I replied, rolling my eyes in order to hide my embarrassment. "Ain't you leaving yet?"
"I am. Just wanted to ask if you'd like to maybe grab a drink before heading home?"
"Oh, I ah. . . . . I'm sorry, I really should get home. I'll be running late if I spend even another thirty minutes outside here," I replied apologetically. Although having a drink with him was an offer I never would have turned down, Amila was coming home early today, and I didn't want to keep her waiting.
"Oh, I guess I'm gonna have to come to your house one of these days and take you out with the permission of your parents then," he said with a broad smile.
I tried to smile back, but nothing happened. I don't know if it's because of his mention of my parents or because what he said sounded like a big joke to me. Either way, I knew I had to leave right now.
Pulling my forest green checkered jacket down to show him that I was ready to leave, I opened my mouth to speak, but the door pushing open stopped me, causing me to look out a bit and see Amila pushing in, her backpack hung over one shoulder. She smiles immediately when she sees me, waving her hand a bit towards me.
"Oh hey, Ami," I called, turning to see James, who suddenly seemed surprised at who I was talking to. "Oh James, this is my sister, Amila," I told him just as she stopped before us.
James turned to look at her, an impressed smile lingering on his lips. "Wow, I see the beauty runs in the family."
"Hi, I'm Amila," she said with a smile matching his, pointing out her hand, which James took immediately.
"Alright, we need to leave now. I'll see you tomorrow, James," I said as I pulled Amila out with me.
"I wasn't expecting you to come here, Ami," I told her as we walked down the sidewalk, passing the several shops lined around.
"Yeah, I had this practical I had to do in school, but decided to wait behind a little longer so I could come see you straight from there," she replied.
I looked to the side to find her face, the smile on her face extending by the minute. Amila has always been a beauty, thick in the right places just like Mom, but black-haired just like me too. I always wondered if she was feeling lonely. I've never really been there for her since growing up; I was always busy working, but she never complained.
As soon as we got home, she decided to make dinner while I stayed in the sitting room chatting with Lauren on the phone. After ending the call, I handed over the money my boss had given me earlier to her.
"It's high time you get your fees paid," I told her. And as I'd expected, there wasn't a trace of excitement on her face, just sadness.
"I really feel bad taking all this money from you, Tiff," she said. "You already pay for this house and the other bills around here."
"That's because it's my job, Ami, and all I want in return is for you to just go to school and study, and don't you worry about me. I'm starting a school of my own soon, okay?" I faked a smile, even though the tears tugging at the sides of her eyes were triggering me to cry too. I needed to be strong for her. For both of us.
Amila nods before scooting over in her seat to wrap her arms around my waist in a long hug.
"Thank you," she said, and I smoothed her hair.
. . . . . . . . Gerald Larry Kensington . . . . . .
After the press conference I'd given to the media a few days ago, I'd noticed the drastic change. Things seemed to have gone down a bit, and I could see the happiness in Jacklin's eyes again.
Larry continued going to kindergarten, and after a few weeks, I was getting used to not having him by my side all the time.
But what bothered me most was the fact that I kept thinking about Caroline. It was a thing I couldn't stop, and it was like every day, I was reminded about that particular day. The day she called me out to that restaurant to tell me she was pregnant and was going to get rid of it.
When I wasn't working, I was thinking about her; when I was hanging out with Carlos, I was thinking about her. Her face, her hair, her smell, her lips, her smile, her voice, her body, everything. All the love we had, all the lovemaking, everything. Everything was coming back in flashes. I still wasn't over her after these years, and I knew I was only hurting myself. I needed to move on, but my mind wasn't. I knew it was my loss, but I was still holding on anyway.
I knew Caroline moved on a long time ago; I knew she did. She was probably with someone else now. Why couldn't I do the same thing? Why couldn't I be with somebody else? Why couldn't I find love and happiness in somebody else?
Ever since Caroline left, it was like I was suddenly immune to love. I could have a fling with women who wanted forever with me, but that was always it for me. Get satisfied and walk away.
Carlos walked into my office, cutting off my thoughts as he shut the door loudly, and when I looked up to see the smirk on his face, I knew he'd done that intentionally to get my attention. Jerk.
He had some papers in his hands which he threw across the table to me before occupying the seat in front of me.
"Take a look at those, man," he said proudly. "That's a big progress on my side, baby! Our Orano profit just went from seven hundred thousand dollars to one million dollars in two months!"
I looked over the magazines he threw on my table and remembered what he'd been getting himself into recently. The Orano energy drink my company had made a couple of years back had gotten a hot spot on the sales market last month when he took it on his wing to made advertisements with a new employee. A beautiful young woman. We all know the world loved beautiful young women in their primes.
I was happy for him, I really was, but I just wasn't in the mood to be happy right now.
"What's up, man?" Carlos asked, concern lacing his voice.
I rose up and grabbed my suit from my seat arms, swinging it over my back. "Come on, let's get some drinks."
"Does that mean we're going to be celebrating?" Carlos asked festively, rising up.
I nodded slightly before walking out.
. . . . . . Tiffany Lawrence . . . . . . .
Tonight was one of those nights where you have nothing to do and just sit at home in your old oversized sweatshirts and pants, lights off, with a bucket of popcorn, and watching a serial-killing TV show while you dwelled in self-pity and wished you were the victim of the documentary you were watching.
That was me tonight. I felt sick to the stomach, eyes hurting due to the all-night work I did at the restaurant last night. I pulled my hair up in a terribly messy bun over my head and leaned back on the old couch that seemed to make my back hurt.
Amila wasn't coming home today; she would be sleeping in her dorm room because of her upcoming exams. I had this old crappy apartment to myself.
As I chewed on the popcorn and saw my phone lying lifelessly beside me on the couch, I suddenly wished I hadn't called Lauren to come over. She was probably in some place fun with her boyfriend, and she couldn't say no to me when I called her to come over because I was her best friend. I suddenly felt bad.
Just then, the doorbell rang urgently, and I rushed to pull it open.
Lauren stood out, dressed up in an armless red mini flair gown that barely reached her knees, her high heels adding to her average height. Her hair was well made, looking brushed down her back in swirling waves, her face adorned with makeup. I goggled at her in surprise.
"Lauren, what. . . ."
She barely let me finish my statement as she pushed me back in and shut the door.
"Oh my God, you look so terrible," she said, like that could make me feel any better. Rolling my eyes, I walked back and sat down on the couch.
"Care for popcorn while watching Ted Bundy's serial-killing documentary with me?" I asked her.
"Hell no, I'm not here to join you on your lame night activity. I'm here to take you out."
"Wrong. I'm not going anywhere, Lauren. Thanks, but I'd rather just stay here and watch this bullshit."
"Bullshit, that's right," she said before pulling me out of the chair and screaming, "Go shower and wear something nice! I might just be doing you a big favor here, girl!"
I grunted tiredly as she pushed me towards my bedroom. It took all the restraining power in me not to scream at her to let me go.