Page 63 of Last Letters to Ara
I groan. “I can’t believe I’m outside of Starbucks, resorting to memorizing protocols against getting laid.”
Lou visibly relaxes before wagging her brows indicatively. “Theo strikes me as the type of guy who sticks around until he gets what he wants.”
Essentially what she’s telling me is that this is hopeless.
“I’m screwed.”
Lou winks. “There isalwaysthat option.”
“Lou!!”
“I’m serious. I don’t understand why you’re so against having a good ol’ tumble in the sheets and working it out from there.”
Sigh. “I can’t.”
“Why? Is your vagina broken or something?”
I give her a pointed look. “No, my vagina works just fine, thank you.”
It’s because of so many other reasons. At the top of the list is probably fear. I’m not delusional enough to pretend I don’t haveanyfeelings for Theo. It just terrifies me how strong they are when they haven’t even been given the chance to blossom further into a relationship. If I put myself in such an intimate place with Theo, I know that there will be no point of return.
Then there is the matter of stubbornness. It’s not a trait I’ve been able to apply toward things like chasing dreams or pushing through hard times. It’s more of a skill I use to get in my own way, stomping my feet over things that don’t matter.
“I just can’t. End of story.”
“You two have the kind of tension that brings the damn world to war. Good luck holding out.”
I frown. “That was oddly poetic.”
“It’s the truth.” Lou looks at her watch. “Now, get your ass to work and make sure you finish on time. I want to come over before my shift starts.”
“Only if we swear off all Theo-related topics. I can’t have my world turning on its axis.”
“Deal.”
I kiss her on the cheek and jog to my car. “Thanks for the coffee, Ms. Love Therapist!”
Lou gives me the middle finger.
• • •
Work goes by too fast, making me wish that there were more hours in the day. I spent the entire morning with Jane, learning the inner workings of the store. Since I already know my way around the supplies, art forms, and layout, she taught me about accounting, stocking, staffing, and the million other things that go into running a business.
I’ve spent my entire life underestimating the people that own businesses. It amazes me how much they’ve had to learn, and what they manage on a day-to-day basis. Jane says that she will still oversee most things but wants me to get the understanding of what goes on behind the scenes, so I can better improve the public front.
My main function is to keep the store running in such a way that Jane has the means to stay on top of expenses. Since we are a small group working here, it also involves me juggling the responsibilities below me when needed. When we get big deliveries, it’s all-hands-on-deck. If the register girl needs to break for lunch, then I’ll take over for her to do so.
My favorite part of my new role is that I have the freedom to create. Jane says she wants me to treat this store like it’s my own. I’m supposed to share any ideas on how we can better improve the store and bring in more customers. I never thought that running a business felt like an art form, requiring endless creativity. I don’t know what they were teaching in my college business classes, but it wasn’t this.
Over lunch, I sat down and made a list of all the different ways I think we could get more customers in. One of them really stuck out to me as a great opportunity, and I’m about to propose it to Jane. Even though I know Jane is the sweetest person on Earth, I can’t fight the nerves which drum up in the face of potential rejection.
This fear is too familiar. I know the route it takes through my mind and my body. Usually, I sit back and watch as it takes over, making me freeze. Except, today is different. It is mydutyto tell Jane my ideas, and I can’t let her down this early on.
I wipe my sweaty palms down my pants, practicing my proposal over and over, as I pace outside her door. I reassure myself that she is a good person, that she will let me down easy and not go out of her way to make me feel worse. All I have to do is tell her the idea, take the gentle refusal without crying, and my job will be done. I can go back to my comfort zone.
Taking one more final breath in an attempt to push my anxiety away, I knock on her door.
“Come in!” Jane calls.
