A Day on the Job

She sighed and became so breathless that she felt as if she put the weight of the big, blue, happy world (except for her) down. She clicked to send the text message on her small, silver phone, that she had trouble pushing the vowel buttons down on. She had just sent the message, as even more of a trail of her family’s never-ending texts of jokes where they all made sense, but only part of her family understood even part of her simple, meek mind. Oh no. Had her large sigh snagged any attention from her co-workers? One in particular; how she always longed for one more glance those dark, hidden, deep brown eyes, like he would ever notice her as more than what she was. A frizzy brown-haired, clear blue-eyed, short high-school girl. They couldn’t be that far apart in age, could they? She even remembered her trippy feet sauntering clumsily in her old gray sneakers’ freshmen year past his, in his home, in the senior hallway. Even his feet were handsome enough to make her blush. Her eyes that we almost scarlet from the liquid blood flow as she glanced up, hoping that their eyes would meet happenstance in a small moment of perfection. They did. She was ready to tear the glance away and keep it in a picture of a memory that would last forever. She would, until his eyebrows arched up, creating somewhat of a dark landscape for his perfect brown eyes. “Ivy are you okay?” Oh no. What would she do now? He wasn’t supposed to say anything in his Baritone voice that flowed as smoothly as a river, for her red roses of cheeks. Eyes darting almost everywhere and finding nothing, despite knowing what they almost always were searching for. She said her response in an awfully uneasy voice, even though she tried to reach a female falsetto that was as gorgeous, or almost as gorgeous as his. “It was nothing. Just my family telling…it was nothing. I’m sorry, Weber.” She finished it shortly, relative to how a mouse would sound. She hoped it would soon be forgotten, the way the rest of their brief interactions were, to everyone but her. It wasn’t. “Conrad. You know my name, Ivy. Use it. I don’t ever call you Henderson, and I never will. We’re all friends.” Was his too long, too smooth, too suave response to her. She wished she could melt right where she stood in that moment. It wasn’t much that he said to her in his cunning, satirical voice, but it was something that gave her hope. He probably had said it, meaning it as a somewhat friendly approach toward the person standing next to her, just starting to work there that day, but she didn’t care in the split second. He never would call her by her last name, that was promising, though she didn’t care what he addressed her as in his voice, so masculine she swore she nearly fainted every time he used it in front of her miniature body with a miniature everything, including voice. The second thing that he said almost swept her off her feet, as if a tornado was straight for her and he referred to her as a friend. Of course, she hoped for a little more from him, as her dreamy boyfriend, sadly only in dreams but, she took what she could get in her sad, silent, meek life. Today, she was a practical mute as he was standing next to her, mere inches away from her body, as he was showing the new girl (whose name was Alyssa) what to do at the job of Front Desk. It was perfect. Him with his dark hair hanging over his face, as if creating a flawless picture frame, highlighting all his faultless qualities. Strong cheekbones, sun kissed tan skin, tall frame, enough hair touching his face that you got to wonder what he felt like, how rough his face was to your guiltless hand. Ivy would dream of him again tonight. She dreamt of him almost every night. Though he would never see her as more than a co-worker, she feared unfortunately. She felt as if she were solitary, on a lonesome island with her imaginings. Anyone could do anything to her, and she would scarcely notice. She liked days of work like this. When it felt like it would always remain a distant memory. She almost smiled at the supposed scarcity. She was grinning at her nothingness until she heard Alyssa’s laugh. It was as tinkling, beautiful, and curiously secretive as assumed for the blonde-haired, pink-lipped (as if she already knew everything about Conrad to enchant him. The witch.) girl. “Oh, Conrad. You’re so funny!” She sang out in a perfect Soprano voice (it didn’t take long to assume). Ivy’s eyes darted to Conrad’s face to see his reaction. There could be no reason for envy on her part, but his smugness did something horrid. It became shy. He never was shy. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t like her. Alyssa had the figure of one of the classic high school populars who got everything they wished for, as far as the school hours go. But Conrad was different, or so Ivy thought. He had graduated a few years ago. Didn’t that fact come with an unsaid maturity? Didn’t that maturity include not flirting with people that you dreamt about as a teenager? (Though Ivy was pretty sure she would always dream about Conrad, no matter what her age was.) Ivy forced herself to pay so much attention to her work that it was impossible to hear what was said next to her in their playful conversation. Disgusting. Whether it was about Conrad’s cute, blushing, middle-school sister, Briar or even better, his little baby brother, Nelson (“maybe we could have one of our own someday”), Ivy didn’t want to know. Blech. Ivy was probably imagining things much worse than they were. She had a tendency of doing things like that. (Not that it mattered, but she didn’t recall ever having told Conrad that she had three brothers, and their names were Oliver, Stanley, and Michael, she was the youngest of her family, that was what made her square face so dastardly adorable, her mother’s name was Charlotte (name starts with a C, like his), her father’s name was Isaac (name starts with an I, like hers).) There would be nothing as long, or as pain-staking as this day at work for her, unless— “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for working so hard, Aly.” Ivy was taken back to awareness of reality, and woke herself up with a jolt of action, that wasn’t noticed. Of course, her and Alyssa had to leave together, and what was this Aly business? Probably nothing, but probably something. (Conrad sometimes called her Ives, after all…after about a month of working there, not a day.) Ivy tried to fake a smile for them both as she started to walk away, at not too brisk a pace, but she couldn’t hide herself, especially at the moments that she wished that she could. She heard rushed steps catching up behind her. “Hey, wait up!” she heard, partnered with an adorable laugh that defined cuteness. Ivy didn’t want to talk and kept her mouth clamped shut. Luckily, Alyssa wanted to talk enough for them both. “What a day? I’m sure I’ll get the hang of this job soon enough. Conrad is so nice…I can’t wait to get to know him better tomorrow night.” Ivy had to slow down her pace a little bit more. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone working tomorrow, especially not a new worker. The place would be closed. She knew Alyssa paused to give her the chance to ask her what she meant, or congratulate her, or something else positive. Ivy refused to give her anything that she wished for. She was too busy convincing herself that cute, beautiful, musical Alyssa could not be going out on a date with hidden, mystic, handsome Conrad.