just so you know,” she says, flipping open to the article about Edward and handing it to me, “your name is out.”
My stomach drops. Not just my name, but a picture of me that I’ve never even seen before, clearly taken at a party sometime last year. I guess I should be relieved that they didn’t somehow find a picture of me in my underwear, but I’m not thrilled. Technically it’s a good picture, but I’m laughing and I look like some kind of party girl, which I’m really not. And I look enough like my mom that associations will be made regardless of who I actually am. The only positives are that the magazine refers to me as “Eleanor” and the photo is far enough away that people here might not put it together.
James slides the magazine away from us to his side of the bar and his face falls. I wait for his inevitable condemnation but it doesn’t come. “I’m sorry,” he tells me. “This just isn’t right.” He pitches the entire magazine into the trash while the protest is still coming out of Ginny’s mouth, and he cuts it off. “Ginny, don’t bring this shit in here again.”
“I just thought she ought to know,” she argues.
“You heard me,” he replies in a tone no sane person would argue with. Even Ginny.
When my shift ends I head to Brian’s office to check out. I’m still uncomfortable around him, but ever since his last altercation with James he’s been unusually restrained. I come out to do my tables — clean them, refill the ketchup, the salt, the sugar packets – and discover that they’re done.
“Did you do my tables?” I ask Kristy.
“No,” she says with a hint of a smile on her face. “James did.”
Why? Why would he do anything for me when most of the time he acts like he wishes I was a million miles away?
“Thank you for doing my tables,” I tell him.
He shrugs and doesn’t even look toward me. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Why’d you do it?” I ask.
He stills for a second, still bent over the dishwasher. “You seemed tired.”
“Well, thank you,” I say, my befuddlement clear.
“You probably would have done a half-assed job anyway,” he says.
Now that’s the James I know.
By the time we get back from work, Max’s 150 closest friends are just getting started. Ginny’s been cranky all night, and coming home to a full house hasn’t helped her mood any.
“Have I mentioned how much I love working a double shift only to walk in and find people having sex in our downstairs bathroom?” she asks Max.
“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I told them to use your bed but I guess they didn’t listen.”
She rolls her eyes and turns to me. “I should have gone to Spain with Alex,” she says. “He won’t even be here for my birthday.”
“It’ll still be fun,” I coax. “What do you want to do?”
She sighs. “I don’t know. Everyone’s probably working anyway.”
“You know we’ll all take off. Do you want to go out or have a party at the house?”
She shoots a dirty look at Max. “A party at the house would be just like every other night.”
“You’re welcome,” says Max.
She yawns. “I have to call Alex at 7, so I’m going to bed.”
“That relationship of yours just gets better and better, doesn’t it Ginny?” goads Max. He turns to James as she leaves. “Speaking of tedious long distance relationships,” he says, sounding the tiniest bit snide. “Where is the lovely Allison? We haven’t had the pleasure of her company yet.”
James shrugs. “Working.”
“I hope you’re letting her know how much we all miss her,” Max says.
“Fuck off, Max,” James replies, but he doesn’t sound irritated.
“A little bird told me you’re planning to propose,” I say.
“Excuse me while I go vomit,” says Max, walking inside.
“Propose?” James snorts. “A little bird named Ginny thinks a whole lot of things that aren’t even vaguely true, and she mouths off about most of them, but that one’s even new to
My stomach drops. Not just my name, but a picture of me that I’ve never even seen before, clearly taken at a party sometime last year. I guess I should be relieved that they didn’t somehow find a picture of me in my underwear, but I’m not thrilled. Technically it’s a good picture, but I’m laughing and I look like some kind of party girl, which I’m really not. And I look enough like my mom that associations will be made regardless of who I actually am. The only positives are that the magazine refers to me as “Eleanor” and the photo is far enough away that people here might not put it together.
James slides the magazine away from us to his side of the bar and his face falls. I wait for his inevitable condemnation but it doesn’t come. “I’m sorry,” he tells me. “This just isn’t right.” He pitches the entire magazine into the trash while the protest is still coming out of Ginny’s mouth, and he cuts it off. “Ginny, don’t bring this shit in here again.”
“I just thought she ought to know,” she argues.
“You heard me,” he replies in a tone no sane person would argue with. Even Ginny.
When my shift ends I head to Brian’s office to check out. I’m still uncomfortable around him, but ever since his last altercation with James he’s been unusually restrained. I come out to do my tables — clean them, refill the ketchup, the salt, the sugar packets – and discover that they’re done.
“Did you do my tables?” I ask Kristy.
“No,” she says with a hint of a smile on her face. “James did.”
Why? Why would he do anything for me when most of the time he acts like he wishes I was a million miles away?
“Thank you for doing my tables,” I tell him.
He shrugs and doesn’t even look toward me. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Why’d you do it?” I ask.
He stills for a second, still bent over the dishwasher. “You seemed tired.”
“Well, thank you,” I say, my befuddlement clear.
“You probably would have done a half-assed job anyway,” he says.
Now that’s the James I know.
By the time we get back from work, Max’s 150 closest friends are just getting started. Ginny’s been cranky all night, and coming home to a full house hasn’t helped her mood any.
“Have I mentioned how much I love working a double shift only to walk in and find people having sex in our downstairs bathroom?” she asks Max.
“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I told them to use your bed but I guess they didn’t listen.”
She rolls her eyes and turns to me. “I should have gone to Spain with Alex,” she says. “He won’t even be here for my birthday.”
“It’ll still be fun,” I coax. “What do you want to do?”
She sighs. “I don’t know. Everyone’s probably working anyway.”
“You know we’ll all take off. Do you want to go out or have a party at the house?”
She shoots a dirty look at Max. “A party at the house would be just like every other night.”
“You’re welcome,” says Max.
She yawns. “I have to call Alex at 7, so I’m going to bed.”
“That relationship of yours just gets better and better, doesn’t it Ginny?” goads Max. He turns to James as she leaves. “Speaking of tedious long distance relationships,” he says, sounding the tiniest bit snide. “Where is the lovely Allison? We haven’t had the pleasure of her company yet.”
James shrugs. “Working.”
“I hope you’re letting her know how much we all miss her,” Max says.
“Fuck off, Max,” James replies, but he doesn’t sound irritated.
“A little bird told me you’re planning to propose,” I say.
“Excuse me while I go vomit,” says Max, walking inside.
“Propose?” James snorts. “A little bird named Ginny thinks a whole lot of things that aren’t even vaguely true, and she mouths off about most of them, but that one’s even new to
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