As Carla gave the payment for her items to the pimply teenager with the Farah Fawcett hair, her thoughts wandered back to the surprise meeting with Goofy and his friends. The shock of seeing him in such an unexpected place had really shaken her up. It was as if she for the first time acknowledged to herself that she had the crush of a lifetime. She was just in the process of further analysing her reaction – a wildly beating heart and a violent flutter in her stomach – when the young clerk sourly called her to attention with a rude "Yo, Cheese Weasel! Wake up!"
Carla blinked dumbly at her and then swiftly realized where she was and what was expected of her. She took the offered change and picked up her purchases, all the while thinking, Cheese Weasel? What the heck does that mean? As she walked out of the store, she came to two conclusions, the first one being that 'Cheese Weasel' probably wasn't a term of endearment, and the second one being that she needed to get out more. She was too young to be oblivious in the face of slang. She probably needed to 'get hip' with the current fashions as well, but that would have to happen some other time.
She spent the rather short walk home thinking about mundane, everyday things, such as the great weather and how dull it was to have to drag herself to work on a Saturday when she'd much rather spend the evening at home, curled up with a book. As she entered her building, her train of thought led her from her pathetic social life right back to the issue of Goofy and the feelings he evoked in her. It was pointless to keep pretending that she didn't care deeply about him, but that left her with only two options: stop caring about him, or do something about it.
Still deep in thoughts, she walked up the stairs to her apartment, opened the door, kicked off her shoes and put away her groceries in the fridge. She felt anxious and jittery, and she hated feeling powerless against her own feelings like that. Absentmindedly, she poured herself a glass of bitter, homemade ice tea and sat down cross-legged on the daybed. For some minutes she stared out into empty space, only sipping her beverage occasionally - but eventually, she forced herself to think about what was troubling her.
So, I guess that there's no doubt that I feel strongly about Goofy after all, just like Martha said. How could I have been so blind? - That's right – you're an idiot. She frowned at the realization that she, once again, was having a conversation with herself and tried to will herself to think in first person only. No, I'm an idiot, there's no 'you' in my brain, because only crazy persons talk to themselves, even if only in their heads.
And yet you keep doing it, the cruelest part of her mind taunted. Annoyed with her inability to stay on track, she tried to clear her head while she drank a few mouthfuls of the ice tea. As I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself, I've been blind. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised; I've never been an emotional person, so it's only logical that I should have problems recognizing my own romantic interest in someone else.
She finished her tea, put the glass on the small side table, straightened out her legs, and leaned back onto the pillow. Anyway, so now that I've learnt that I'm… in love? She let the word swirl around in her head, trying it out. No, not love, not yet at least. A crush? She wrinkled her eyebrows in concentration, but had to discard the word. No, it's more than that – and honestly, I'm not a teenager, so I shouldn't get crushes anymore. It's not love, but it's more than an infatuation… good word, by the way, much better than 'crush'… Anyway, that's not really important. Back to the subject at hand. So, what do I do about it? That's what I really should ask myself right now. What. Do. I. Do. She sighed tiredly and just laid there watching the ceiling, before she, at last, drowsily closed her eyes and fell asleep.
§§§
Two hours later, she woke up with a start. She still could remember fragments from the dream she'd been having. Something about her parents' house and a secret cellar where lilies grew. She put the memory aside and went to the bathroom. On her way to the kitchen she checked her wristwatch and guiltily realized that it was already 3.04 p.m. She considered making a sandwich, but decided that it wasn't worth the hassle. She was feeling slightly sick, something she immediately recognized as a sign of stress. Just perfect, she thought, even when I have nothing real to stress about my mind picks something completely innocent and turns it into nausea.
She picked up her keys from the brown bowl on the counter and left for work. She walked to Joe's without any hurry and kept herself busy by once again resuming to think up a good plan of action. Ignoring my feelings won't work, that'll just come back and bite me in the ass later. I can't stop feeling the way I feel, even I know that. I guess I'll just have to talk with him. She kicked irritably at some pebbles that were lying quite innocently in her way, and continued with her brooding. But what should I say to him? "Hey, Goofy, I like you." Nah, that's stupid. Maybe I could compliment him on something… his hat? No, he'll probably take it the wrong way. I could just go right out and ask him out, but I don't have the guts for that. "Aaargh!" She screamed in frustration and attracted some curious glances from passers-by in doing so. "Hehe, sorry about that," she said nervously and hurried away. Conveniently enough, she was just around the corner from her destination so it was an easy feat to sneak into the alley, away from all prying eyes.
"Ya're early." Martha took a last loving draught from her cigarette and crushed the remains with the sole of her shoe. "I don' think ya've ever been here this early before."
"I decided to try something different today, I guess," was Carla's amiable reply.
She opened the restaurant's back door and snuck in, leaving a surprised Martha behind her. The peace didn't last for long, however. She was in the process of changing into her uniform when Martha appeared in the doorway.
"Ya know, ya're a little too happy to be happy, if ya get my drift," she said and tapped her nose conspiringly.
Carla was glad that she was facing her locker, because she knew that she had never been any good at lying, especially not to a bright woman such as Martha. Not having to look her in the eyes helped, but not much. "I can assure you that I'm perfectly fine, I'm in a good mood, that's all." She cringed inwardly at her choice of words; she never spoke in such a stilted way unless she was nervous, something Martha of all people was well aware of.
"Somehow, I'm not convinced," she said archly.
Carla knew when a battle was lost and turned around to face her friend. "Okay, I might not be feeling very chipper right now. Happy?"
"Not by a long shot." Martha beckoned her to sit down and continued, "Now tell me what's buggin' ya."
"It's nothing really, just a silly idea I got today," Carla said, feeling too embarrassed to tell the actual truth.
That earned her a disbelieving look accentuated by a raised eyebrow. "What 'idea' was that?"
Carla looked up at Martha's face and the concern it expressed and decided that she couldn't lie to her in good conscience. She took a deep breath and said, "I realized that you've been right the whole time – I have to act on my feelings."
Martha lit up like a Christmas tree, and almost clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, hun, that's wonderful. What made ya change ya mind?"
"I met him at the grocery store today, and it made me feel so strange inside." She grimaced at her clumsy way of expressing herself, but rambled on mindless of that. "So I realized that I like him more than I thought I did, and thus, I need to do something about it." She finished her tirade and looked expectantly at Martha. When she didn't get a reaction, she continued, "So… What should I do about it?"
"Aww, that's easy, hun! Tell 'im."
"I don't think I can. What if he laughs at me?"
"Don't be silly, 'e's crazy about ya. 'e's just too shy to show it."
"Well, I'm shy too," Carla remarked crossly.
"Sometimes, ya have to put yer pride on the line for the greater good," Martha said seriously.
Carla sighed desolately and said, "You're right, as usual." She stood up and continued, "I'll talk with him today. He's bound to show up soon. He always does."
"That's great. Go get yer man."
"Thanks, I will," Carla laughed.
She went to work feeling much better than when she had arrived, sure in her decision to talk with Goofy. The anxiety from before was still there, but it was now mixed with an equal share of determination.
An elderly gentleman looked just about ready to place his order, and she walked up to him with a friendly hello. For a minute she was completely engrossed in her work, but the moment she noticed a familiar, gangly figure enter the diner, her heart started racing like crazy.