Sometimes these stories really do write themselves.
/ /
Out there, somewhere, is another you.
And she's got your life, got your car, got your loft apartment, got your beer and your morning-after grins. She's got your swagger, your stomp, your bump and grind and your arsenal of get-down-to-it.
She's got your streets and she's got your corners. She's got your subways and your taxis and your six o'clock alarm ringing.
Out there, somewhere, is another you.
And she wishes you'd catch up to her already.
/ /
Ashley leans against the counter, one ankle on top of the other and with her arms crossed, watching as her semi-bored, semi-hostile glare keeps all customers away from her aisle.
She sends all of them to Aiden. And he rolls his eyes and he shakes his head.
But what does Ashley care? He's just some guy who puts too much stock in a shitty job, puts too much effort into a talent that goes nowhere. He's just some guy who wears too much after-shave and thinks his smile is a gift from God and tries out tired lines whenever any girl gets within a five-mile radius.
Aiden is a loser – a harmless loser, but pathetic nonetheless.
And Ashley doesn't waste her time on his need to be the perfect cashier-slash-bag boy-slash-ass-kisser.
She doesn't waste her time with wiping down the counters. She doesn't waste her energy to greet the lady with the bags of cat food or the man with the six-pack and the frozen pizza. She doesn't bother to smile at them or tell them to have a nice day.
Her apathy towards this job extends even further, though.
She looks at her sneaker-covered feet and notices how the laces are dirty and untied.
The jeans she has on? She slept in them last night. The shirt is missing cuff buttons and the collar is tattered. Her skin smells of generic soap and she ran a toothpaste coated finger over her teeth.
She pulled a brush through her slightly curly hair, but she didn't wash it.
Because Ashley doesn't care about this job, but she barely cares about anything at all.
/ /
You lose things every day, you know?
One day, it is a toy. The next day, it is your virginity. One day, it is something simple. And the next day, it is something vital.
That's life for you and that's life for that other you, too. Maybe you lost parents. Maybe she loses lovers.
Maybe you missed all your slim chances. Maybe she is missing out on something real.
You've lost things, you know?
And that other you? She never had those things to begin with.
/ /
"Can you price check this?"
It is the question that Ashley hates to hear the most. The whole ordeal of ringing something up that possibly won't be bought and then having to cancel it out, the buttons you must push and the drawer pops open regardless…
It is a fucking pain.
Ashley glares at the girl opposite her, but that is just a brief reaction. She settles, as always, for a lack-luster expression and minimal vocal response.
She sweeps this can of organic soup past the laser and the cost flashes on the screen.
"Four dollars and ninety-nine cents." Ashley says with a well-practiced sigh.
The girl's mouth forms an irritated line, one that speaks of not wanting to pay that much for soup from a stupid can. Ashley agrees, but keeps this to herself.
"How can anyone afford to eat well when they charge you an arm and a leg for some chicken-and-noodle soup?" The girl questions out loud, eyeing the can with annoyance.
Ashley doesn't really reply back, she just sits the can back onto the counter and sort of shrugs her shoulders.
Aiden appears out of nowhere at that moment, startling the girl and merely causing one of Ashley's eyebrows to slowly arc upwards.
"How about you save your money and I'll take you out to eat?"
His voice is so slick that Ashley is surprised that any of them are left standing. It is nauseating, that's what Ashley thinks. And a little bit creepy that he just materialized like that. Ashley decides that Aiden Dennison has officially become the cheesy and horny ghost of Five Points Grocery Center.
But the girl looks at Aiden like he has lost his mind and then the girl looks back at Ashley.
"Is he for real?" The girl asks and Ashley can't help it – she laughs a little bit and nods her head.
"Yep."
And Aiden looks between the both of them, flickers of confusion and frustration in his gaze. The girl turns away from him completely and grabs the can of soup.
And, quite unexpectedly, the girl and Ashley look right at each other. Not one of those quick glances either, but a full-on eyes meeting and holding.
It's not a polite look, Ashley gathers this much – it's beyond polite. It's friendly. It's a look that says 'I get you and you get me and that's nice, right?'
Ashley blinks to break stare and the girl smiles.
"Well, this awkward and weird interlude is worth five bucks, so I guess I am getting organic soup tonight."
Aiden frowns and walks off. And the girl gets the rest of her food, plus the soup, tossing it all into a box instead of a bag. Ashley just watches silently, not even acknowledging the 'have a good rest of the evening' the girl says as she walks away and out the automatic doors.
"Some chicks just don't get it." Aiden says from somewhere behind Ashley.
"You need to stop being a stalker around here, okay? It's disturbing." Ashley tosses out quietly, still staring at the now closed doors. But the comment just goes right over Aiden's head.
"Still, she was hot as hell, right? Hot. As. Hell."
And Ashley doesn't say anything, but Aiden certainly isn't wrong.
/ /
What does it take to wake up?
Is it the dawn? Is it affection against your lips? Is it the taste of something sweet? Is it the ground beneath your feet? Is it the glimpse of a blue sky?
Is it Jesus and his bible text? Is it the devil and all those wicked notions?
Is it where you used to be – a child who runs across the playground and thinks those squealing tires sound like ancient birds in the clouds?
Is it where you are – a woman who runs through companions like water through a sieve, always unavailable even as your tongue in down their throat?
What does it take to wake up, hmm?
What does it take for all these pieces to come together and make you a new morning?
/ /
Two for one deals and half-price items and yellow stickers – it is just another day in a long list of similar days.
Just another day of cash and credit cards, of screaming children and elderly people who cannot hear, of managers who scold from afar and the cackle of the bakery women which drowns out the soft-rock/random jazz piped into the atmosphere.
And yet, when two cans of organic soup turn up on the conveyor belt, Ashley looks up quicker than is acceptable to her own sense of personal detachment from the world.
There she is, though, the girl who didn't want to spend so much on soup and who didn't like Aiden's smarmy approach. The very same girl that looked at Ashley like the two of them could be more than supply and demand, more than a means to an end.
There she is, that hot as hell girl, and Ashley is not at all amused with the fact that this girl makes her notice things like attractiveness.
Like blue eyes. Like blonde hair. Like a pretty smile. Like everything about this girl.
Ashley is also noticing that she should have worn a nicer shirt, one that doesn't have a stain on the lower left front. Or she could have ran a comb through her hair instead of jerking it back into a haphazard pony-tail, which isn't tight enough and strands of brunette keep sticking to her forehead.
Ashley is noticing herself for the first time in a long while, her image reflected back in an open gaze from some girl in the check-out line.
And it's not the best looking sight around.
Ashley could confront this moment. She could ball up her fingers and create a fist, shaking her rage at her own lack of ambition. Or Ashley could turn her metaphorical skin inside-out, less of the outsider and more of a talker. She could look at this girl and grin and tell a damn joke that would make those nice blue eyes dance with mirth.
But, really, those actions require gumption and courage and other ten-dollar notions.
And Ashley is too good at being cheap.
The cans hit the bumper. The girl sends Ashley a knowing grin. Ashley sees Aiden in the distance, trying to flirt with some woman waving coupons in the air. The only reason to bail is because she can and so Ashley does just that.
"Code fifteen on seven. Code fifteen."
The girl looks perplexed and Aiden darts over, ever eager, and Ashley walks away faster than she ever has from anything or anyone. This time, though, Ashley doesn't need a pretty gaze to show her how this looks.
/ /
Out there, somewhere, is another you.
And she's got your desire. And you've got her heart. And maybe you'll meet one day, bumping into each other randomly, and your worlds will finally collide. Maybe you'll cancel each other out. Maybe you'll spontaneously combust if your hands touch. Maybe it'll be the start of something or maybe it'll be the end of something.
Maybe she'll want your calm and your angst. Maybe you'll want her fire and her infamy.
Maybe this, maybe that. Maybe it'll be nothing much at all.
Life is full of a millions shades of you.
And maybe, one day, you'll meet them all.
/ /
Ashley throws the last of her clothes into the bag and ties it up tight before she tosses it into the back of her car. And she slides the apartment key under the door, then kicks the door shut and pulls the handle to make sure it locks.
She drives by the Five Points and flings her name-tag at Aiden's head, messing up his pick-up patter with some bored looking lady on aisle two. Aiden doesn't ask where Ashley is going, but she didn't think he would. Everyone here knew that Ashley Davies didn't mean to stay – she just forgot to leave.
And now, Ashley has remembered.
Ashley remembers all the plans she used to make and all the daydreams she used to have and all the wishes she placed on stars. Ashley recalls lands she wanted to cross and seas she wanted to sail. Ashley remembers a time where she wanted more than a life half-lived.
She just forgot about those things for a while.
But not anymore.
/ /
Out there, somewhere, you are already living.
Time to wake up.
/ /
Spencer Carlin picks up a can of soup – this time the Southwest Chicken & Rice – and starts to put it into her basket. But then she notices a post-it note attached to the back of the label. She peels the note off slowly, reading as she does so, and a funny little grin works its way onto her lips.
I never said it, but you have the prettiest blue eyes. You really do. – Ashley, your unfriendly cashier
And Spencer Carlin can't be one hundred percent sure, but she feels like this post-it note is just for her. A post-it note from the girl on aisle seven who had the deep brown eyes. A note from the best-looking girl Spencer has ever seen, the girl who was here one day and gone the next.
A girl named Ashley.
Spencer folds the note and slips it into her back pocket. Then she grabs a couple more cans of the organic soup, smiling the whole time.
/ / / / / / /
:END: