"You should let me read your palm," I say again. Then, when I blink, the girl is gone and I’m sitting at the booth alone. I groan. Why do I keep daydreaming? I order a coffee to go and shuffle home. To shelter. To bed. Away from the sweltering embarrassment I feel when I can’t differentiate reality and fantasy. I tuck myself in to sleep; and for a few weeks, the days continue on like this one, with me stumbling between imagination and truth.
…
“Oh, how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say ‘throw cares away’, Christmas is here, bringing good cheer!...” I sit up with the feeling that I have company and flop out of bed. Coming... I’m opening the door to a few teens singing Christmas carols when it hits me that it’s that time of year again. Gross.
“Noooo, thank you!” My voice comes out raspy and underdeveloped so I close the door quickly and put the chain back on. “What a bitch.” I hear one say. “...but she was kinda hot” another quips. I ignore the rest and stretch for the day...
That’s it Yonnie, breathe deeply. Arms up over your head. Higher..Higher...Higher.. Come on, you can get them higher then that. Beautiful. Now, relax. I smile to myself, muscles fully loosened and knuckles finally cracked. I think I deserve a treat for tonight, a flask of Jack Daniels, or at least a swig because I know I’m a bit of a lightweight.
…
“I’m gonna jump!”
“Yonnie, get down from there!”
“I’m gonna do it ‘Fonso! I’m no chicken. I’m not afraid to die!”
“Yonnie, no one’s calling you chicken. You’ve just had too much to drink. Get down from there or you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me! I’ll quit. I’ll do it ‘Fonso and you’ll have no one. I’m the best canoli at this pet shop.”
“You are! That’s why I need you to get down from there... That’s it, now just climb down. Watch your footing, you’re going to...”
“Gahh! My ankle!”
“Yonnie you’re all tangled in Christmas lights. You’re alright. Just... no more drinking in the storage closet. You’ll try to climb the shelves again.”
“My ankle ‘Fonso. I just want to go home!”
“I know, my little canoli. Give me that flask.”
“I paid for it myself.”
“Yes, but give it here. I will hold it for you.”
“Alright, but don’t drink it.”
“Never.”
“Never ever?”
“Yes, never ever. Now let’s get you home.”
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